There is something comfortably familiar about fig jam. It's hard for me to place, because I don't remember eating any fig jam when I was a kid; in fact, my only exposure to figs was the unpleasant fig newtons my dad used to eat. Yet something about it tastes like I've been eating it my whole life. The only thing I could come up with was it tastes remotely like a Serviceberry, an obscure sort of berry that grew in our backyard. But we didn't exactly go around gobbling up the sweet blue berries, in fact most of the time we just ignored them. I just spent the entire weekend making jam. Three days, 15 dozen figs, two trips to the grocery store (I'm not going to have enough jars for all this!), and a boat load of sugar later... I've added 36 more jars to our stash. I was determined not to waste a single fig. I wanted to highlight the subtleties in the different varieties (emphasis on subtleties, they are very similar and it is hard to taste much of a difference between them). So I made

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