Though I spent a not insignificant portion of time with my writing group on Sunday taunting the kind of ironically insubstantial literary elitism that mistakes dogmatism and exclusion for Doing Something — oh, you know the kind I mean — here I am with an undeniably impractical and feckless recipe for Fig Leaf Gin. Not that I ever promised practicality, but I try to keep things within the realm of possibility. This is an outlier — a delicious one, though, and what it lacks in justification for its own existence it does, at least, make up for in ease of execution by being very, very easy to make.

After enjoying a fig leaf cocktail back in December I had my ear to the ground for opportunities, and happily a co-worker — the same champ who gave me all the tomatoes from the previous triple tomato risotto recipe, actually — came through with the green stuff, also from her endlessly bountiful garden.

Having had a go at a rapturously successful fig leaf ice cream (which you will hear about imminently) and with a yearning to continue getting dazed and infused, I turned my eyes towards fig leaf gin. It’s quicker to describe the recipe than it is the flavour — you just dunk some torn fig leaves overnight in some gin, nothing more nor less.

Fig leaves don’t exactly impart a 1:1 fig flavour — it’s elusive, perfumed, twiggily vegetal with a long, faintly jammy flush of sweetness at the finish that hints at the fruit’s grainy pink interior. The figginess is fresh, mind you, not the crystallised density of the dried version in the baking aisle. Gin isn’t entirely a blank canvas, with its juniper and citrus botanicals, but this very arboreal quality makes it an ideal backdrop to, well, more leaves. You could certainly try it with vodka — it might even be a little more elegant, but if nothing else using gin is an easy way to make it seem like you’ve toiled far more than you have.

And what can you make with this green-tinged liquor? My two suggestions are as follows. As always, 1 shot = 30ml = 1oz = 2 tablespoons.

Southside of Eden: In this figgy variation of the Southside, vigorously shake 60ml fig leaf gin, 30ml fresh lemon juice, 10ml agave or 15ml sugar syrup (the former is sweeter), and about eight fresh mint leaves over ice. Double strain through a sieve into a waiting coupe and garnish with a mint sprig. Fig and mint is a recommended combination in Niki Segnit’s The Flavour Thesaurus; somehow it and the lemon’s bold freshness only uplift, rather than disguising, the fig leaves.

Fig Leaf Martini: Rinse a mixing glass with a splash of sweet vermouth — by which I mean swirl a little around then pour it out, potentially into your mouth — and then to the same glass add 60ml of fig leaf gin and stir down over ice until its sting is softened but not removed entirely. Strain into a chilled coupe glass. A twist of orange zest would make a good garnish. You can leave the vermouth in, but it might muddy the beguiling green of the gin.

For recipes of a more practical nature, I recommend these Catalan Chickpeas and Spinach; my One-Pan Fried Chickpeas, Rice, and Greens, my Sheet Pan Gnocchi Puttanesca and this Hands-free Black Bean and Brown Rice Casserole. And for something that’s doubly impractical — by which I mean, it takes ages — this homemade passionfruit liqueur is exquisite.

Speaking of the literary world, there is a lede I have not so much buried as placed inside a sarcophagus and hiffed into the Mariana Trench; this is partly because I — further irony — lack the words right now to adequately convey it to you. It does not feel like so long ago that I was sharing the news of my cookbook with the single-minded focus of someone who is sure their dreams have come true, and for those of you who have followed my erstwhile Patreon and my various online, printed, and vocal attention-seekings, you will be aware of how much this watched pot has been simmering and simmering and waiting to boil. Oh god, I’ll just say it: This year I will have my first novel published through Āporo Press. I am proud, I am excited, I am shaking like a chihuahua, I am in cool and excellent hands and — and! — as well as being my first novel it is also the first novel for Āporo. What a singular honour, but as with the best kinds of honour it’s shared and communal. This year Āporo will also publish works of poetry by Jo Bragg (Ngāti Porou) and Nicola Andrews (Ngāti Pāoa) and if you want and can, you can support this — to borrow Nicola’s good words — “inclusive, independent, Māori press that knows when we need to take a principled stand for our communities, and when we just need to have a laugh or get a little weird” with the Boosted campaign that will supplement these publications. If you can’t — and times sure are tough — your eyeballs and attention are a significant currency, don’t you worry.

This probably isn’t even the first you’re hearing about this because I’m so disorganised against my will BUT I will be maintaining this blog at the irregular clip you currently enjoy while collaborating in the novel editing process and holding down a job that keeps me in fig leaves; you will absolutely hear more about this dream that I’ve been dreaming of since I was three months old but consistency — inasmuch as it ever existed — will prevail, I promise. If you only know me for recipes this still shouldn’t be that much of a shock, right? Look at all these ten dollar words where a two dollar one would suffice! (Also — if you want to hear more about this novel, regularly, I’m setting up a low-key little email list — I’ll get a form created but also feel free to get in touch directly if you’re interested.)

Isn’t this the most though? Just knowing it can happen is almost its own reward, but — I cannot wait to hold that book.

Fig leaf gin

Fragrant, floral, figgy — and fast. Make it into perfumed cocktails or give it as a gift, however you serve it this is surprisingly practical and immensely delicious. Recipe by myself.

Note: Some people may have sensitivities to the sap in these leaves — frankly I’m surprised I didn’t — and there are varying insistences on the internet saying both that they can be used raw or that they need to be toasted first in a hot, dry pan to kill off any enzymes. If you’re given to nature-based sensitivity, perhaps do some googling first and see what sounds right to you.

• 5 large, fresh fig leaves, with some stem attached
• 500ml decent, but not overly so, London Dry gin — I used Beefeater

1: Rip away any exceptionally browned edges from the leaves — some cracking and crazing across the surface of the leaves is fine. Tear the leaves themselves into irregular pieces and drop into a jar large enough to contain the gin.

2: Pour over the 500ml gin and let it sit overnight. Truth be told, it was headily fragrant after an hour, but the next morning it was even better.

3: Drain and decant into a bottle or jar for storing indefinitely.

Makes 500ml.

music lately:

Smallpox Champion, by Fugazi, what an irritatingly pertinent song! I also love the dizzying swirl of guitar at the start and that exuberant final stretch but the real star is the delicious unpalatable truths in the lyrics.

Wish I Didn’t Miss You, by the sadly, sadly late Angie Stone. This song, with its silky urgency — what a perfect marriage of sentiment, voice, and arrangement. Unsurprising that Andrea Martin’s pen is on it when she also gave us En Vogue’s Don’t Let Go (Love) and the title track from Set it Off, among so many others.

Bye, Bye Life as performed by Ben Vereen and Roy Scheider in All That Jazz, one of my favourite films of all time which I finally saw last night on a big screen with my girlfriend, happily running into my Āporo publisher slash friend Damien in the process — a film that asks the question, can someone be such a genius, and can it be so much the 1970s, that self-awareness becomes resolution? You’d be surprised how often I ponder this as a food blogger, but anyway, the orchestrations on this prosaically simple, overcooked-ly obvious song are HYPNOTIC, and through clever cutting you genuinely believe that Scheider is in fact an aging dancer extraordinaire; naturally Ben Vereen easily carries the performance and should be better remembered for this moment. Oh! And I say this with deadly sincerity, if you haven’t seen this film, stop the video at 10 minutes sharp. Admittedly your attention span might run out before then.

PS: The people in Gaza are suffering more than ever and desperately need help. Locally-based humanitarian org ReliefAid’s Gaza Appeal continues to work to deliver food and water so give it if you’ve got it. Recently we went to the Defying Destiny protest in Albert Park held by People Against Prisons Aotearoa, it was powerful and invigorating and frequently joyful and heartening, if grim in its necessity. The parliamentary petition to deregister the violently erroneous charity status from Destiny’s Church that I linked to last time continues to grow in signatures, I’m not sure how much weight it carries but it only takes a moment to correctly agree with it and sign.