September Food Haiku Winner + Steel Cut Oats with Fig Sauce

My recommendation for fig season is a simple one: don't hesitate. As in, if you see a basket of figs while you stroll through your weekend market, buy them. If you say to yourself, I'll get some next week, they might be gone. I speak from personal experience, it's worth noting. 

So, now that you have your basket of figs, you can make this comforting fall breakfast. It's a warm bowl of steel cut oats with syrupy figs, made sweet from fresh orange juice and a touch of maple syrup. But first, congratulations to Vivian Tu, this month's food haiku contest winner! 

steel cut oats with orange-stewed figs

for the oats
1 cup steel cut oats
3 cups water
1 cup whole milk or almond milk

for the figs
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 basket figs (about 3/4 pound), tops cut off and sliced lengthwise
1/2 cup orange juice
1 tablespoon maple syrup
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
Pinch salt

To make the oatmeal, add the oats, water, and milk to a 4-quart sauce pan and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer 20 to 30 minutes, until tender. I like to add a splash of milk at the end, to make it a bit more soupy.

To make the figs, melt the butter in a 4-quart saucepan or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the sliced figs, orange juice, maple syrup, cinnamon, and salt. When the liquid is bubbling, reduce the heat and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes, or until the figs are tender and most of the orange juice has evaporated, leaving behind a sweet and thickened sauce. 

Pour spoonfuls of fig sauce over the bowls of oats before serving. 

[BOOK ENDS] Introducing the Cover of Eat This Poem + Pre-Orders!

Pre-Order on Amazon!

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Book Ends is an occasional series where I share insights about the cookbook writing process. For even more, subscribe to my newsletter.

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In the life cycle of a book, there are many milestones. Some are small, like finishing a chapter, or settling on just the right sentence. Others are large, like signing your publishing contract. I believe they should all be celebrated with a glass of champagne.

I often talk about milestones because when you consider your writing career—hopefully one that spans many years and even decades—quiet moments are common. There are more days spent choosing the right word, receiving an email from a reader, or attaching your poems in a submission email (or receiving rejection letters) than finishing book proposals or giving readings. 

The big moments are exciting. They provide momentum to keep going, certainly. But it's how we devote ourselves to the time in between that the life of a writer is really made.

I'm currently in a season where big moments come in more rapid succession. This, after three years of relative calm, testing recipes and working on chapters bit by bit, until a whole manuscript appeared. Now, we've only six months to go before Eat This Poem arrives in bookstores. And you can pre-order it! (I'll be writing more about pre-orders in a bit, because they're HUGELY important.)

I'm also taking a final look at the proofs, with pages designed and illustrated by a very talented artist named Cat Grishaver. You can get a sneak peek in this video.

And the cover!! What do you think? I smiled ear to ear when I opened up the email with draft art a while back. I wanted something timeless with a touch of whimsey, and I think this is exactly right. 

I hope you love it!

Haiku Contest Finalists | September 2016

Fig season is fleeting, and I consider the fruit sort of an emblem of transition. They arrive at the market in the last days of summer with matte, slightly shriveled skin, and a tender interior well suited to pair with honey or cheese. The days are not quite blustery, but no longer scorching hot. Fall is imminent, yet restrained. We are waiting for the inevitable, seasonal shift, which is the exact moment plump figs appear.

When it comes to matters of the seasons, and what to do about it, recipe-wise, I'm fond of thumbing through The Kitchen Diaries by Nigel Slater. The entry from October 26 is especially poignant. 

“The last fat, yellow leaves fell off the fig tree this morning, leaving next year’s buds at the tip of each gray branch and forty green fruits that will never ripen.

You approach the tree with caution, each piece of stone around its base splattered with potentially lethal squashed figs, hoping for just one edible fruit. But there is no such thing, and the tree that promised so much in May has failed to deliver.”

— Nigel Slater

The moral of this story is to find a few figs and eat them before they disappear, and in an effort to encourage you, three poetic offerings are below. Choose your favorite food haiku before September 16th!

VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITE FIG HAIKU