Fig and Pepper Bread (Recipe from FIRST FROST) (2024)

Ever since I read First Frost, I’ve wanted to make the Fig and Pepper Bread that Claire Waverley bakes for her town’s First Frost festival. The bread is eagerly anticipated by her family and friends as one of autumn’s first pleasures, and while I was skeptical about the unusual combo of flavors, I was more intrigued than anything else.

I got to the end of the novel, and I was delighted to find…the recipe for the much-discussed Fig and Pepper Bread! I love it when books do that. I mentally made a note to give the recipe a try one day.

Ummm. After that…about two years passed? *ducks head in shame* I’ve thought about the recipe often, but I’ve never actually tried it because, confession, you guys: I’ve never made a yeast bread before.

For some reason, working with yeast scares me. I’ve managed to make a simple homemade pizza dough, but that was only after watching my sister-in-law make it first. I observed her meticulously and asked many (probably annoying) questions, then made it on my own soon after watching her so I wouldn’t forget anything she did or told me.

However, that tried-and-true pizza dough has been my only yeast-y baking accomplishment.

UNTIL NOW.

I don’t know why I was so scared of making bread! This recipe was easy. So easy, I was pretty floored by how easy it was. Admittedly, a large part of that has to do with the fact that I used my stand mixer’s dough hook (for the first time!) to knead the dough. But, hey, I’m a modern girl, and there’s nothing wrong with doing things the modern way.

Plus, the recipe told me I could.

So, if any of you are fellow bread-making newbies, never fear. This is probably the best recipe to start with.

The recipe for Fig and Pepper Bread is available online, but I’ve rewritten it below with my own notes and some slight alterations to the ingredients…and some clarifications. The recipe calls for “figs,” but it doesn’t say if they should be fresh figs or dried figs.

Husband and I had a Great Debate in the middle of the grocery store about which should be used. Said debate may or may not have involved putting a package of fresh figs in the cart, walking away, walking back, replacing the figs, and then later picking them back up again.

There was a lot of indecision. Baking is hard.

In the end, I went with fresh figs based on Husband’s assumption that “the recipe would have said dried figs if it wanted you to use dried”…as well as the fact that there are little drawings of fresh figs on the online recipe card. (I did, however, buy a package of dried figs, juuuuuust in case I changed my mind last minute. I didn’t.)

Turns out, fresh figs were DEFINITELY the way to go. They made the dough extremely watery when it was raw, but they caramelized beautifully in the oven once the bread baked. I don’t think the bread would be the same if I had used dried figs.

So, definitely use fresh ones if you can. And, make sure they are really ripe. A few of mine had some juice leaking out the bottom – not a lot, just a little – so I knew they were full of flavor.

While making this bread was easy, it was definitely…an experience. All was going well until I had to “softly knead the chopped figs into the dough.”

Let me tell you, fresh figs do not want to go so easily into that good night. I had floured my hands, as the recipe suggested, to make working the dough easier, but the juicy figs soon made everything slippery, and it was difficult to get the dough folded back on itself after I had tried to knead the figs into it.

Eventually, I gave up, going Que sera sera, and plopped my amoeba of fig-studded raw dough on the baking sheet. It did not look appetizing, and neither will yours. My earlier skepticism about this recipe was back, and for a second I wondered if I should just throw in the towel on this particular adventure.

But, I persevered, dusting the dough blob with flour and pushing the baking sheet into the oven to see what would happen.

Dude. What emerged was AMAZING. My amoeba had magically transformed into a gorgeously brown, crusty, rustic loaf of artisan bread. I actually gasped when I opened the oven to check on its progress.

I was unable to let the bread cool completely before cutting into it because I was so excited to taste it. It made a delightful, crusty sound as I sawed into it with the bread knife – like I was cutting real bread that came fresh from a bakery – and that just got me more excited.

The bread itself is dense and mealy, thanks to the whole wheat flour in the recipe. The crust is crispy and crunchy, cracked in all the right places, but the interior crumb is soft and slightly chewy. Each bite contains a subtle hint of pepper, which is a welcome, savory change to so many breads containing added sugar (this one does not).

However, the crown jewel is when you reach a fig. Gone is the pale, green taste of the raw fruit, replaced by the robust, earthy flavor of a sweetly caramelized fig. It’s a complete contrast to the peppery base, and I loved it.

Eat this bread with a thick slathering of salty, European butter and a cuppa tea. Or, serve it alongside a bowl of cauliflower potato soup. It’s also delicious slathered with jams or jellies, and it makes a hearty snack with a few slices of sharp cheddar cheese or creamy brie.

Offer it one hearty slice at a time (it’s wonderfully filling), with more on the side in case anyone’s stomach is bottomless.

My only complaint about this recipe – and, this is completely my fault – is that there were not enough figs in the bread. Because of the kneading difficulty I mentioned earlier, most of my figs remained near the surface of the bread and didn’t make it into the interior. Knowing how amazingly the figs turn out, I’ll try harder next time to incorporate the chopped pieces throughout the dough. I encourage you to do the same.

And, yes, there will be a “next time” for making this bread.