Gardening

AUTUMN Figs

WORDS LYNDA HALLINAN | IMAGE BRYDIE THOMPSON

Is it better to give a fig than to receive one? I suppose it depends on your tastebuds, though I'm sure most foodies would prefer to be given a bag of plump purple figs than a bucketful of free feijoas.

I’m a late convert to figs. Perhaps I was scarred by childhood Christmas memories of my father, a fan of dried figs, slowly and selfishly chewing his way through a sticky round of Turkish figs before embarking on the Griffin's biscuit sampler. Fresh figs were unheard of in our household – and most other Kiwi homes of that era – but now their fast and furious fruiting season is welcomed with the sort of salivation previously reserved for the first cut of spring asparagus. The first homegrown fig I ever ate, I’m sad to say, was as underwhelming as it was underripe. I’d bought a house in Auckland with a huge old Brown Turkey tree growing out from under the front deck. Every autumn, the birds had a field day, leaving me to waterblast the sticky carcasses of hundreds of hollowed figs off the timber. Rarely did I get to enjoy an unblemished fruit, its skin a balayage of green and purple, its ambrosial flesh a dainty shade of amber-pink. Take it from me that, in a home garden setting at least, the best sort of fig tree is a tree small enough to fling bird netting over. A city friend of mine enjoys a superb annual crop from her potted 'Panache' fig tree, a novelty variety with tiger-striped fruit, but a tree espaliered against a sunny wall, its branches splayed for maximum fruiting with a minimum of fuss, also does the trick. A few summers ago, another friend gave me a bag of ripe-to-burst Brunoro Black figs. I scoffed the lot and immediately ordered my own tree to plant. This is the most popular variety in New Zealand, according to Te Mata Figs in Hawke’s Bay, and for good reason: like a Hass avocado, the skin deepens almost to black, an obvious measure of ripeness, and the flavoursome flesh turns blood-red. The fruit is also perfectly sized to wrap in prosciutto or slather with goat’s cheese and honey. In a sheltered, sunny spot with protection from hard winter frosts, figs flourish a little too enthusiastically. A small tree rapidly becomes a big tree without some attention from a pair of loppers. As figs fruit on new season’s growth, it pays to tip prune in midDecember to remove excess growth, then thin back the trees by roughly a third at the end of winter. (Rather than cutting back each branch by a third, which removes any hope of an early or breba crop, cut back every third branch.) Figs aren't too fussy about soil conditions, but they do need the occasional deep soak during a hot, dry summer. Mulch heavily to conserve soil moisture and keep the roots cool, as drought-stressed trees will defoliate prematurely and abort their crop before it’s ripe. I've learned this the hard way this summer, as my parched young tree produced an inaugural haul of figs the size of cocktail cherries. Never mind. I'll gently simmer them in a heavy sugar syrup, let them drip dry then make a batch of gooey-centred chocolate truffles.

PLANT NOW: KOHLRABI

On the eve of the first Covid-19 lockdown in 2020, a friend shared a photo of my local garden centre, showing the shelves stripped completely bare of veggie seedlings … apart from a few lonely punnets of kohlrabi. I couldn't help but feel sorry for this most underrated of bulbous brassicas, for not only is kohlrabi a damn sight easier to shred into a tasty slaw than cabbage, it’s faster and more foolproof to grow than broccoli, Brussels sprouts or cauliflowers.

I suspect that the main reason Kiwi gardeners have sidelined this useful brassica is that no one knows what to do with it. White cabbage butterfly caterpillars seem to find it similarly confounding; although they'll nibble at the leaves, they leave the edible base alone.

In autumn, this quirky looking vegetable swells up reliably to the size of an apple, with a topknot of kale-like foliage. Plant seedlings now or direct sow early Purple Vienna, Azure Star or the lime green Duke hybrid. They’ll be ready to harvest in 8–10 weeks, just in time for some tasty recipes you’ll find in the winter issue of Nourish.

Lynda Hallinan

Waikato born-and-raised gardening journalist Lynda Hallinan lives a mostly self-sufficient life at Foggydale Farm in the Hunua Ranges, where she grows enough food to satisfy her family, free-range chooks, kunekune pig and thieving pukekos. She has an expansive organic vegetable garden and orchards and is a madkeen pickler and preserver.