This afternoon I go to the mailbox and lo and behold, there is a well-wrapped box from Texas with two pint jars of whole fig preserves inside.
Like a kid at Christmas, I tore into the package with great anticipation.
And then–discovered that Santa did not bring me the ball glove I wanted so badly. I was distraught as I tasted the first one. It missed the mark by a long way. The figs are the biggest I have ever seen. Like the size of golf balls. But lot more just mush that sweetness. Of course I did not have any of mama’s biscuits to shove one into, so I plumped two of them down on a piece of bread, folded the bread over the figs and chomped down.
The results were the same. Bland. Little taste at all. And I spent $20 for two jars and shipping.
My ball glove became a pair of pajamas.
However, ever the optimist when it comes to food, back to the internet I went. Four more jars are now on the way. Two from Columbiana, AL and two from South Carolina.
That’s another $50. But this time it is do or die. Either I find a supplier of figs I’m looking for–or I’m off to Dairy Queen for a banana split.