Holy Figs!

Figs seem weirdly overrepresented in religious lore. The Buddha reached enlightenment while sitting under a fig tree. Adam and Eve used fig leaves to hide their bums. Islamic teachings say figs are good for curing haemorrhoids. I will attest that if you eat 10 figs, your poops will be as smooth as God intended.

Long before humanity started farming, ancient foragers were eating these heavenly snacks. Figs were the first tree we domesticated, and people started planting fig trees thousands of years before crops like rice and wheat.

The common fig, Ficus carica, is now everywhere across Melbourne. Fig trees go absolutely feral, spreading wild along creeks and colonising forgotten back alleys. They're actually considered an invasive weed in some parts of Victoria. I even had one randomly pop up in my backyard, thanks to the birds who spread their seeds. It doesn't matter where in Melbourne you live, there will be a fig tree somewhere within walking distance!

There's such an abundance, even the fruit bats can't keep up. I've discovered laden trees along train tracks, in veterinary clinic parking spots, behind Asian grocer shopping strips, and in countless parks and gardens.

Suburban foraging reshapes how I see the natural world. Nature isn’t confined to the bush or the coastline, it persists, generous and resilient, even among city neighbourhoods.

So what are you looking for? Here's how to ID a common fig tree: Leaves  • Shape: Large, with 3-5 (sometimes up to 7) deep lobes • Texture: Top is rough like sandpaper; underside is softly hairy • Scent: Crushed leaves smell like figs and coconut • Latex: Broken stems bleed white latex • Arrangement: Leaves alternate along the stem

Tree  • Twigs: Stout, zig-zag, knobby • Bark: Smooth, silvery-grey, becoming gnarled with age • Type: Deciduous, large shrub or small tree

Fruit • Shape: Pear-shaped, 3-7 cm long • Colour: Green ripening to brown, purple, red or green (varies by cultivar) • Structure: Fruit is a syconium (not a true fruit), basically an inside-out flower cluster, filled with tiny seeds.

In late summer, the fig bounty is limited only by your ambition. You'll gather more than you could possibly eat fresh. I could never afford so many figs in the supermarket, which makes me all the more appreciative of them. None go to waste. Fig and ginger jam is shared among friends, and dehydrated figs last the whole year, topping porridge, added to banana bread, and served alongside cheeseboards.

My favourite way to enjoy the fruit is poached, on top of cinnamon french toast with pancetta, mascarpone, walnuts and maple syrup. It's a cafe worthy brunch that's easy to whip up. If you're looking for other ideas, figs are fantastic paired with honey, ginger, dark chocolate, vanilla, brandy, mugolio, or savouries like blue cheese and pork.

You can also harvest the leaves. I actually use fig leaves more often than the fruit. They have a fragrant fig-coconut-vanilla flavour. I turn them into an elegant cordial, served whenever friends pop by. I infuse them into cocktails (they’re especially good with tequila), or dip dehydrated leaves into dark chocolate for something chic and cheffy. They make a pleasant cup of herbal tea (even nicer with added lemon and sugar), and are delicious when infused into desserts like panna cotta, ice cream, or jelly. Fig leaves are useful as wrappers: around goat cheese, rolled into dolmades (there's a variation known as thrion), or wrapped around fish before steaming.

An embarrassing warning: fig leaves contain latex, so skip them if you have an allergy. And avoid native Australian fig leaves, like the Moreton Bay, Port Jackson or Sandpaper Fig, as their latex levels are much higher. I learned this the hard way after making a crème brûlée infused with about 30 Port Jackson fig leaves... in hindsight, not a sensible amount. A flush of anxiety hit after the inside of my throat felt tacky. I sheepishly called the Poisons Information Centre, feeling like a complete doofus as I explained my overzealous foraging. But I was fine, aside from my bruised ego.

Moreton Bay fig

Out of the 1,000+ different varieties of figs, around forty are native Aussie figs. The native figs look completely different, with smooth classic leaves, like a simple cartoon leaf shape. Native figs are also edible, but have a very narrow window of ripeness; dry and dusty unless picked at the perfect moment.

Sandpaper fig

Across from my house, a large Port Jackson fig spills over the fence. One day I picked pocketfuls of fruit, it was as sweet as honey, aromatic and jammy. A couple of days later I returned with a foraging friend, but all the remaining fruit had fallen. That fleeting moment of ripeness quickly passed.

Port Jackson fig, fruit is red coloured when ripe

Moreton Bay figs are better remembered as childhood climbing trees, with wide branches and secret gaps where you can sit, hide and play pretend. Once on my lunchbreak, I stopped under a magnificent Moreton Bay. I sampled the fruit; it tasted tragic. After a quick scan for witnesses, I scrambled up into the fig's forked branches. My impractical work shoes felt a little uneasy, so I then panicked and made an undignified retreat. If anyone had been watching, I hope they had a little laugh.

Moreton Bay fig

Each type of native Australian fig has a relationship with a unique species of Agaonidae wasp for pollination. The wasp is tiny, about 1–2mm, carrying pollen from the fig she was born in. She squeezes into a developing fig through a tiny pore, losing her wings and antennae along the way. Inside, she pollinates the flowers and lays her eggs. The males hatch first. They mate with the developing females while they’re still sealed inside their galls, then die while making escape tunnels through the fig. The females are born already pregnant, crawl out through those tunnels, and head off to find another fig. And the uncanny fig wasp cycle continues.

A lot of people assume the common fig also requires wasp pollination. While that’s how it worked in the ancient world, the common figs we enjoy today have been selectively bred to develop without pollination. No wasps were harmed in the making of regular figs, so don't worry, you don't need to be squeamish about eating dead bug remnants.

Mid to late summer is fig season, whether you’re chasing native figs or the common ones. But timing is everything. One decent heatwave can push an entire tree into ripeness overnight. Usually though, figs take their time, ripening in waves rather than all at once, so it pays to keep checking your spots. Figs don't ripen off the tree, so if you harvest an underripe fig, sadness awaits.

A fig is ripe when it gives a little under your fingers and feels heavy for its size. Colour isn’t much help, as some figs stay green when ripe, others turn purple, red or brown.

If you stumble on a wild tree that hardly produces, a prune can actually help. There are a few big trees near me along Darebin Creek that look impressive but managed to produce exactly two figs last season. Prune in winter while the tree’s leafless and you’ll see a better result.

Clear your afternoon and go for a little wander to suss out your local figs. There's not much better than a sun warmed fig, enjoyed straight off the tree. Happy summer foraging!