What’s in a Name?

The Flying Fig…where did you get that name?  That is one of our most-oft asked questions.   

There’s a two-part answer.

Part 1:  Over a year ago, I lost my biggest fan…my dad.  Some dear friends gave me condolences in the form of generous words and homemade fig cake and a gift certificate for fig trees from  Wildcat Ridge Farm near Asheville.  In the wake of loss, this was not a gift I received lightly.  Special, I tell ya. 

Part 2:  Fast forward a few months…I’m at home, by myself, and frustrated.  Aloud, the words came… I don’t give a flying fig.  I laughed out loud.  I had never used that phrase before, but the alliterative turn of expression made me laugh.  For the life of me, I don’t remember why I was frustrated…but I do remember laughing out loud.

So, what’s in the name?  Some big and weighty stuff.  Some small and light stuff.  The stuff of life.

What’s in a name? Juliet asked this while making sense of the senseless Montague/Capulet drama.  Though out of context, maybe Shakespeare’s words can also address The Flying Fig…such stuff as dreams are made on.

WARNING:  Do not take me to Whole Foods or The Meat House unless you want to see me pitch a fit at the checkout counter because I  must have a piece of expensive fig cake.