A Weekend in Puglia

Puglia in August is a different kind of heat. It is dry, it is golden, and it smells of basil and baked earth. We drove to a small town called Martina Franca, where a friend of a friend had a fig tree that his grandfather had planted in 1930.

The tree was enormous — its branches cast a shadow across the entire courtyard. The figs were black mission, almost purple, with a pink flesh that tasted of honey and something floral, like jasmine. We picked a basket, ate a few on the spot, and knew they would become our Fig & Honey gelato.

In the kitchen, we roast the figs with a tablespoon of wildflower honey from a Tuscan beekeeper we work with. The roasting concentrates the fruit's sugar and deepens the floral notes. Then we fold the roasted figs into a soft milk base, leaving the seeds whole for texture. The result is not a fruit gelato that tastes like candy — it is a gelato that tastes like the tree, the heat, and the courtyard.