a taste of late summer.

Whenever I eat figs (which is quite rarely), I'm struck by the intensity of the memories that accompany the taste.  I feel as though I'm again in the orchard at Due Santi, standing beneath the massive fig tree and luxuriating in that absolutely divine and unique aroma that fills the air (honeysuckle, pine boughs, and sunshine....that's the closest I've come to describing it).  Those warm, golden Roman afternoons, sticky fingers, buzzing bees.  Intoxicating.  How I miss it!