So Sue comes home from the market with figs, the first this year. I, wise virgin that I am, have dough lurking in the fridge for just such an eventuality. A few curls of serrano, the odd spoonful of the elixir (honey 2, olive oil 2, balsamic vinegar 1) and we’re away:
All it needs is a sprinkling of rocket.
Figs
The PArtisan Baker 