“…a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive oil and honey; a land where you will eat food without scarcity, in which you will not lack anything" - the Promised Land according to Deuteronomy
“Nature also forges man, now a gold man, now a silver man, now a fig man, now a bean man.” - Paracelsus
I’ve been a “fig man” for nigh unto 20 years now. This predilection, or obsession if you will, began with a trip to Thomas Jefferson’s home place, Monticello in Virginia, where Tom grew fig trees among other crops and is described as having had a passion for this fruit, helping to popularize it in spite of naysayers. While the “White Marseilles” fig is most commonly associated with Jefferson, he is said to have grown other figs including “Green Ischia”, which I found among the potted plants offered for sale at the Monticello gift shop. Thinking it would be a kick to successfully raise figs in Ohio (where I then lived), I bought one. Every year it was killed to the ground by cold, but always revived to grow six feet or more and display its tropical looking leaves - but no fruit, even when I tried it in a pot brought under cover during the winter. Eventually I discovered other fig varieties that did bear in my climate.
This will not be an exhaustive treatise on growing figs. There are tons of articles and videos available on the Internet on various facets of fig cultivation. I hope to provide some useful advice on growing and propagating figs, especially for those living in the so-called “zombie zones” (z. 5-7).
Figs may have been the first crop cultivated by mankind. There’s evidence of this dating back over 11,000 years. It’s thought that figs originated in western Asia, eventually spreading to the Mediterranean region and other countries. Figs may have been brought to the U.S. by Spanish settlers in the early 16th century, though not everyone agrees on this. More on early fig history along with details of Ficus carica’s life cycle and genetics can be found here. Figs have long been cherished in Italy and were transported to the New World via cuttings by immigrants. A common sight on Staten Island when I was growing up was one or more fig trees in the yard of a suburban home in neighborhoods where Italian-American families lived. Every winter these intrepid fig growers carefully mummy-wrapped their prized fig trees in burlap for protection. Wrapping and careful siting along the south wall of homes enabled these trees to survive winter lows into the teens and sometimes colder without serious damage.
Historically, fig trees have suffered from botanical ignorance and pique. Again, from the Bible (Mark 11:12-20): “The next day as they were leaving Bethany, Jesus was hungry. Seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to find out if it had any fruit. When he reached it, he found nothing but leaves, because it was not the season for figs.”
“Then he said to the tree, "May no one ever eat fruit from you again."…In the morning, as they went along, they saw the fig tree withered from the roots. Peter remembered and said to Jesus, "Rabbi, look! The fig tree you cursed has withered!"
Epictetus had it right:
“If you tell me that you desire a fig. I answer you that there must be time. Let it first blossom, then bear fruit, then ripen.”
That’s practical advice for the fig grower.
Sometimes, a poorly-producing or non-fruiting fig just needs awhile to make up its mind to bear. A case in point: my two LSU Tiger fig trees never did anything noteworthy over the first ten years or so of their existence. Then in 2023 for no discernable reason, one of them bore a luxuriant crop of tasty figs. Violette de Sollies also took its good sweet time to bear figs (not quite as long as LSU Tiger) but produced bountifully in 2023. Both varieties had not been transplanted or otherwise treated differently in recent times, but something (being rootbound? a sense that I was becoming tired of their nonsense?) triggered better behavior.
A lot has been said about alleged gourmet figs, whose taste is so divine that they vastly outshine their brethren. Sayeth Jeremiah 24:3:
“Then the LORD asked me, “What do you see, Jeremiah?” “Figs,” I answered. “The good ones are very good, but the bad ones are so bad they cannot be eaten.”
Gotta disagree with Jeremiah here. Maybe he picked unripe ones or trees were cursed with a pestilence that made their fruit inedible, but I’ve never had a similar problem. A ripe fig from even the most humble varieties like Brown Turkey and Celeste is still a treat. In the world of ultimate fig enthusiasts this viewpoint would be anathema. Connoisseurs, sounding like their counterparts evaluating fine wines, routinely detect “notes” of berry, honey, melon and other flavors in their preferred fig varieties, disdaining well-known and pedestrian sorts. In evaluation of figs, it’s typical for these folks to exclaim over the flavor of a single harvested fruit, while what I most want to know (is it a vigorous fig? productive? winter-hardy?) goes unmentioned.
There are “hot”, “must-have” figs that top enthusiasts’ lists, coveted to the extent that cuttings, not to mention plants, go for up to hundreds of dollars each, though as time goes on and more of a variety enters the marketplace, prices go down. Sometimes but not always, demand seems to be driven by how exotically-named the fig is. For example, a fig named Santa Fabuloso Del Raritino XXV will likely command higher prices than Bob’s Fig from Raritan, N.J.*
A problem that arises when acquiring figs is uncertainty about identification and duplication of names. Quite a few figs/cuttings were brought to the U.S. by immigrants, and are linked with the names of those who brought them over or the location where they were first planted. It’s probable that at least some of these figs are the same tree known by different names. Intrepid fig detectives have decided for instance that “Stella” and “Dalmatie” are the same fig, also known as “Staten Island Bomb”. “Negronne” and “Violette de Bordeaux” are widely considered identical. According to a monograph on the subject:
“As to variety names, Starnes and Monroe wrote, in 1907, that “no fruit comprising as in this case but a single species, is so badly mixed as is the fig in its nomenclature.” Reference to the text shows that the Brunswick has had at least twelve different names attached to it, and the Brown Turkey has at least fourteen synonyms. This confusion in nomenclature is emphasized by a comment from a correspondent in Algeria, “.....but the names change from one village to another for the same variety, and it would need a volume to establish complete synonyms.” Such varieties as Brown Turkey, Brunswick, and the Ischia figs are undoubtedly identical with varieties grown over a long period in some Mediterranean districts.”
“Brunswick” might be known by two dozen other names, according to this peeved collector.
There are lists of fig varieties which may be helpful in clarifying confusion about nomenclature, but it pays to be cautious when acquiring a new plant, lest you duplicate something already in your collection. And despite what you may hear, one can distinguish between varieties by appearance of fruit and foliage only to a very limited extent; for instance a fig might fit into the sizable category of Mt. Etna figs based on appearance, but good luck trying to distinguish the various Mt. Etnas on sight.
“These figs are known and distributed under many names, including: Hardy Chicago, Takoma Violet, Gino’s Black, Sal’s EL/GS, Maryland Berry, Zingarella, Rossi Dark, Marseilles Black, Keddie, Malta Black, Black Greek, Spanish Unknown, Dark Portuguese, Salem Dark, Black Bethlehem, Macool, St Rita, Kesarani, Sicilian Black BC, Lebanese Red (Bekaa), Ginoso, Danny’s Delight, Jersey Fig, Martini, Don Fortis, Hardy Pittsburgh, Hardy Hartford, Mt Etna Unknown, GM #11 (Sicilian Dark), Abba, NJ Red, San Donato (Calabria), Dominick’s, Bari …”
Got all that? Good. And we haven’t even touched on the problem of individual growers mixing up what they sell, losing nametags, deliberately misrepresenting their wares etc. In recent years there’s been a Fig Gold Rush of sorts in California, where “found” figs growing wild are being propagated and marketed by sellers under newly assigned names. Whether some of those are duplicates of known figs is an interesting question.
In recent years I’ve acquired cuttings of dozens of fig varieties, mostly selected due to reputed cold hardiness (it’d be great to be able to depend mostly on in-ground figs instead of having to move heavy pots in fall and spring into and out of protected winter locations) and productivity. I have most of the ones touted heavily for cold resistance, though it’s difficult to resist picking up another that, say, someone’s great-grandfather brought over from Sicily and which supposedly thrives and bears fruit every year in Ossining, New York.
The basics of fig growing are relatively simple.
Provide decent, well-draining soil (incorporating elements like peat moss, vermiculite and compost is a good idea when growing figs in tubs), full sun (or as close as you can get to it), fertilization to provide a boost to growth early on with a cutback on the nitrogenous component later so plants put energy into figs and not vegetative growth, and a growing season long enough to ripen the crop, and you’ll get figs.
More on the nitty-gritty details in upcoming installments.
*real-life example of the potential for name snobbery: I have a variety known simply as “Sal's Fig”, a Mount Etna type from Sicily said to have good cold hardiness. My most recent cutting acquisition is called “Madeleine Des Deux Saisons”, a variety popular in the Brittany region of France, whose name comes from its touted ability to reliably produce two fig crops (breba and main) annually. I was able to acquire cuttings of both inexpensively, so go figure.