I am calling it Vegan Figs Diablo… with bacon. It’s a clear night in Charlottesville, and I really should be writing about the gorgeous full moon that hangs above the reservoir behind our house. The ancient moon god, Nanna-Suen, is one of my most favorite character’s preoccupations, and I’ve been learning more about magic in ancient Babylon, Nabonidus’ fascination with history, and the temple where he installed his daughter as high priestess 2500 years ago. Fascinating stuff. I spent yet another day with my nose in the books.
But then, around 7:30 pm, I opened a bottle of white wine from a vineyard down the road and poured myself a glass. I decided I would enjoy it as I prepared pork loin chops, whose recipe called for 1/2 a cup of such wine. Now, I had been planning for some time a dish using fresh figs, sauteed onion, and jalapenos from the garden. I have an amazing fig tree in Richmond, and even with the neighborhood and local restaurants availing themselves of the fruit, tantalizing from the alley, there was still plenty for us. So many in fact that I’m trying to fig-ure (sorry) out how to use them all. For tonight’s din, I had made some super-speedy bread on the grill (ate half a sheet straight away), and was cooking up some rice — brown, a concession I decided my husband a white-rice-prefer-er would have to make because everything else would be so good. But after I’d prepped everything else, the pork gave me a nasty surprise.
I had bought it last week, thinking that we’d have it then. But the days got away, and I went out of town, so I bagged it up for the freezer. Trouble is, I put it back into the fridge. Despite the sell-by date, just a couple days ago, when I unwrapped it to cook this eve, it had some funky stench going on. Now, I hate to waste things. I especially hate to waste meat. It costs a bit, sure, but I especially hate the thought that some animal lived for this and died for this and I throw it away without so much as a wow-that-was-yummy experience. But the pig was already dead, and if we ate the meat, we just might find ourselves wishing for the same such fate.
But what to do with our dinner? I did have some bacon in the fridge (that needed cooking), and I had a jar of black beans I’d cooked with a huge pot when the temps dropped last week.
So Vegan Figs Diablo… with bacon was born. Here it is:
In some olive oil (really — don’t worry about measuring, just put in enough to lightly coat the pan), sautee a clove of minced garlic and some thinly sliced sweet onion (about 1/2 cup, say).
Meanwhile, cut about 12 figs in half onto a big plate. Mine are brown turkey figs, which get so deeply purple when ripe that they’re almost black.
Grab a few peppers. I had both jalapenos and hungarian wax from the garden. Remove the membrane and seeds (compost) and slice. Scuffle the peppers over the figs.
Discover that the pork you thought you’d cook is no good. Pour another glass of wine.
Scrape the onions-garlic over the plate of fresh peppers and figs.
Bring out the bacon. Cook it up, nice and crisp. Put slices on paper towels and pour the fat into something to cool — preferably a newly-dirtied dish.
Slide the contents of the onion-pepper-fig plate into the pan and listen to it sizzle.
Find some black beans. A can would work really well. Drain them. Add them to the pan.
Pour the cooled bacon grease over your dogs’ dry food.
Try not to trip on the dogs while you stir the contents of the pan around a little, taking care to keep some semblance of shape in the figs. Salt to taste.
Serve over brown rice with bacon slices on top and a side of arugula. Give your dinner companion the half a sheet (okay, maybe a little less) of grilled bread that you didn’t eat.
True: you can do this without bacon. Vegans rock.