The figs we ate in Montenegro are lime green, with the plump tender skin of a young girl. You press them to your lips and tongue and gently push through the skin with your teeth to the surprise of bright pink and delicately sweet pulp within. To the texture of the skin and the sweetness of the pulp add the crunch of tiny, tender seeds for an extravagant gustatory experience. Never have I tasted figs so sweet or partaken of them in such abundance. They were offered in large bowls and we plucked them off roadside trees. The Adriatic figs of Montenegro.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
On Figs in Montenegro
The figs we ate in Montenegro are lime green, with the plump tender skin of a young girl. You press them to your lips and tongue and gently push through the skin with your teeth to the surprise of bright pink and delicately sweet pulp within. To the texture of the skin and the sweetness of the pulp add the crunch of tiny, tender seeds for an extravagant gustatory experience. Never have I tasted figs so sweet or partaken of them in such abundance. They were offered in large bowls and we plucked them off roadside trees. The Adriatic figs of Montenegro.
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