The message reached me during an inordinately long stop-over in Auckland airport:

'The figs are ready! The figs are ready!'

It was Rusty McNeil. Plump little orbs were tumbling like Manna from the heavens all over her corner of Riverside.

Rusty and her husband, Keith, have been my steady supplier of figs for the past few years.

Sure enough, there were about 10 pounds of the wee devils waiting for me.

The best cure for jet lag is to have something to keep you busy whilst your body clock re-synchronises to more sociable hours.

It's not so terribly bad being wide awake at 3am if the rising sun finds the house smelling sweetly of fig jam.

(Oh, who am I kidding? Being wide awake at 3am sucks, regardless!)

I studied to be an archaeologist.

It was a trip to the British Museum that convinced me that all the really cool stuff had already been dug up.

But a few of those tragic myths and damsels lie buried in my mind like the unearthed pottery shards that tell their tales.

Jocasta was Queen of Thebes. It was a date (with her son, Oedipus) and a fig (used to curse the gods, 'A fig for your divination!') that spelt her doom.

This tart, with a delicious almond crust, a sticky date filling and caramelised fig topping is more afternoon delight than doomed damsel.

It is my gooeyest day of the year when I make this simple jam.

It is the only jam that I make every year and I have ceased bothering putting it into jars; it gets doled out to friends who turn up with tubs to be filled and consume it before it has any chance to spoil.

Meyer lemons are my preference but this year I made it with regular lemons and it was just as yummy.

The chunky figs, bitter lemons and spice of ginger make this a really versatile number. Great on toast or hot scones, perfect on a baguette with a hunk of chevre, you could even glaze grilled meats with it.

This was meant to be a leg of lamb. But I found a pork shoulder selling for 99c a pound and grabbed it.

So easy: I rubbed it with salt. Ground down some fennel seeds and cardamom. Added a pinch of cinnamon and pepper. Sprinkled and rubbed. Poured a glass of wine on top and roasted it over a bed of figs and red onions.

A nice low oven. 5 hours to get my way through the rest of the bottle of wine...

This roast was fork tender and the figs, onions and wine had caramelised down to the perfect relish for sandwiches the next day.

The spice mix was alluring, without being intrusive...like the perfect perfume on a lover's neck...

...except it was on a pig's shoulder.

Go figure!

Sexy breakky: thick slabs of toasted bread (like a ciabatta), wedges of grilled ricotta on top, a tumble of blushing figs all smothered in a blanket of eucalyptus honey.

Cozy supper: make a soft polenta by heating milk with some cardamom pods and cinnamon quills. bring the milk to a simmer, remove the spices, add the polenta whilst some figs brushed with butter and sugar are caramelising in the oven. When the polenta is done, spoon it into bowls and top with figs, pouring cream and brown sugar or honey.

Spiked figs: here's to Lisa who told me that in Germany they blend figs and vodka. You might add some fresh mint, maybe a dash of vanilla vodka. Pour over ice and call it a figtini!

Ever faithful: cut a little cone shape into the top of the figs, stuff it with a sizeable nugget of Gorgonzola and sheath each fig with a slice of prosciutto. Pop them in the oven or under the grill until the cheese melts and the prosciutto gets crispy.

These little tarts were really simple. I even made the dough myself (and I hate making pastry). None of that 'leave the dough to rest' nonsense.

30 seconds in the food processor. No rolling pin; just pressed balls of dough into the muffin pan, and then I blitzed some cooked chestnuts with some of my fig jam.

Spooned it into the dough and baked them for 15 minutes.

These are perfect with a cup of tea in the afternoon...

...but would be absolutely devilish served hot, maybe a knob of marscapone...and some cognac.

If figs could sing (and who's to say that they cannot?), they would want to sound like Susheela Raman.

My friend, Neale, put me onto this siren over a recent dinner in Sydney.

I had no idea how addicted I would become!

She's English, Aussie and Indian all rolled into one...Susheela is her own Commonwealth!

Click on the pic or below for the iMix

I had some left over dough from my tarts, so I rolled it out to fit a 5 inch pan, put a little jam in the bottom, then popped four small figs inside. I lopped off their tops, stuck a little butter on top of each. A sprinkle of brown sugar. Served hot with creme fraiche ice cream or flambeed with some spiced rum?

And just the right size for two to share!

There is something alchemic about the combination of figs, meyer lemons and fresh oregano. Spun together, these flavours turn to gold.

Add some smoky prosciutto, peppery arugula and just about any cheese, and you are in business!

This salad is a late Summer treasure.

I know I'd promised you part 2 & 3 of my Swedish trilogy, but I'm not Ingmar Bergman. And I had to do something with all of these figs (and I thought some of you might be facing the same predicament)

So stay tuned for Seamus Lopez and his adventures in Ikea cuisine.

And let the love flow!

cheers, Mannix

mannix@thelovebite.com