Professor Butter Beard and “It’s All About the Fig (Leaf)”

Apoxyomenos (Scraper), Roman marble copy, probably after the bronze original of c. 330 BCE by Lysippos, Musei Vaticani, Rome.

“Some people need a fig-leaf on their mouths.” – Martin Luther

Ooooh, Mr. Luther. A bit harsh?  But I know we’ve all thought it before. I will admit I have endured meetings by envisioning the Pope and his minions strolling in and ceremoniously placing a marble fig leaf over the presenter’s mouth, inciting a standing ovation from the audience, but luckily my daydreams remain quiet. Or so I hope!

Alexxa Gotthardt writes, “Consider the fig leaf: a little piece of foliage that’s shielded the genitals of famous biblical figures and nude sculptures for centuries. It’s a plant that’s become synonymous with sin, sex, and censorship. And in large part, we have art history—and the artists determined to portray nudity even when it was considered taboo—to thank for that.”

The fig leaf’s role in art history can be clearly traced back to the age-old tale of Adam and Eve. The original duo, humbled by their nudity after eating from the tree of knowledge, “sewed fig leaves together and made themselves aprons,” as chronicled in the Book of Genesis. Early artistic depictions of the purported events (such as the mosaic example below) show the once shamelessly nude figures sheathed in fig leaves that obscure their genitals, subtly representing original sin and a fall from grace.

The Italian Renaissance brought about the revival of classical Greek statuary and with it, nudity. Donatello's small bronze statue of David from around 1440 is still considered by art historians to boldly be the first nude statue since antiquity.   Yet it was another David, by Michelangelo, that would cause a cultural gasp due to its larger-than-life nudity. When this master’s David was installed in the Piazza della Signoria in Florence in 1504, nervous authorities immediately placed a garland of twenty-eight copper fig leaves around his waist in order to cover his impressive nakedness. This “modesty wreath” was kept in place for another fifty years!

The art historian Monica Bowen has researched the history of using fig leaves to censor nudity and promote “modesty” in the early modern period. She points to the “Fig Leaf Campaign” begun in 1541 by a fundamentalist named Cardinal Carafa and Monsignor Sernini, the Ambassador of Mantua. These men, in an effort to promote the modesty preached within the Reformation, unsuccessfully advocated “modifying” the naked figures in Michelangelo's “Last Judgement.”

Popes like Paul IV began to speak out against nudity, but it was not until the Council of Trent (1545-1563) that the Catholic Church took an even firmer stand. Art historian Arthur Frederick Ide writes, “the Council of Trent condemned nudity in religious art while most of the bishops and cardinals maintained pornography in their personal collections. Pope Paul IV mandated the use of concealing fig leaves, promulgating the church’s attack on nudity in art in a papal bull dated 1557.” Oh dear.

One of my favorite infamous fig leaf stories involves Queen Victoria herself!  Around 1857, the Grand Duke of Tuscany presented the Queen with a fig leaf specifically created for a plaster cast of Michelangelo’s “David” that had been produced for the Victoria and Albert Museum collection. The Queen was reportedly quite scandalized by the plaster David and thus the fig leaf was kept at the ready by the museum’s curators to be rushed into place before every royal visit.

As another giggle, I offer up Eugen Sandow, a German bodybuilder and showman from Prussia. Born in Königsberg in 1867, Sandow became interested in bodybuilding at the age of ten during a visit to Italy. Sandow's resemblance to the physiques found on classical Greek and Roman sculpture was no accident, as he precisely measured the statues in museums and helped to develop “The Grecian Ideal” as a formula for the “perfect physique.” In addition to strongman sideshows, he performed "muscle displays" by posing in the nude save for a fig leaf that he would don in imitation of statues he had seen in Italy as a boy.

For me, the most important thing protected by a humble fig leaf is the delicious ripe fig itself. As the nights become cooler and the crickets become louder, I start to see small baskets of gloriously ripe figs appearing at the farmer’s market stands. My cravings for dark chocolate return and I play with new recipes creating a dance between the bewitching chocolate and the sensuous fruit. Throw in a handful of toasted hazelnuts, and you’ll need to catch me as I swoon in a culinary daydream. So much for the Reformation!

Fresh Fig and Dark Chocolate Frangipane Tart

One delicious twelve-inch tart

For the crust:

  • 1 ½ cups all-purpose flour

  • 2/3 cup toasted hazelnuts

  • ½ cup granulated sugar

  • ¼ tsp fine sea salt

  • 12 Tbsp cold unsalted butter, cut into ½” cubes

  • 2 large egg yolks

For the filling:

  • 6 -8 fresh figs

  • 1 cup granulated sugar

  • 14 Tbsp unsalted butter, room temperature

  • 2 large eggs and 3 large egg yolks

  • 1 ¼ cup dark chocolate, melted and slightly cooled

  • 1 1/3 cup toasted hazelnuts, finely chopped

  • 4 Tbsp all-purpose flour

  • ¼ tsp chili powder

  • ¼ tsp fine sea salt

  • 2 Tbsp granulated sugar to sprinkle over tart before baking

1)     In a food processor, coarsely chop the 2/3 cup hazelnuts.  Add the flour, sugar and sea salt and pulse until evenly mixed.  Add the butter cubes and pulse until the consistency of breadcrumbs.  Add the egg yolks and pulse until the dough forms a ball.  Pat the dough evenly into a 12” tart pan coming 1/4” up over the rim. Chill the crust in the refrigerator while you make the filling.

2)     Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

3)     Melt the chocolate either in the microwave (20 second zaps) or over a double boiler. Stir until smooth and set aside to cool slightly.

4)     Whisk together the 4 Tbsp flour, chili powder and salt (I also added ½ tsp cinnamon.)

5)     In a standing mixer, cream together the butter and granulated sugar. Add the eggs and mix to combine. With the mixer on low, add the chocolate and mix until evenly combined.

6)     Remove the mixing bowl from the stand and fold in the chopped hazelnuts and the flour mixture until evenly combined. Spread the filling in the chilled crust.

7)     Cut the figs into quarters and arrange on top of the filling in a decorative pattern. Sprinkle the 2 Tbsp sugar over the figs and filling.

8)     Bake for 70-75 minutes until set and the center has a slight wiggle (like a brownie).

9)     Cool completely on a wire rack before removing the tart pan rim.

Fragment of a Floor Mosaic: Adam and Eve, c. late 400s-early 500s, Marble and stone tesserae, Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland.

Ganymede and Zeus' eagle. Marble, Roman artwork of the Imperial era now at the Vatican Museums.

In this 1894 photograph by Benjamin Falk, Eugen Sandow portrays “The Dying Gaul,” a pose taken from an ancient Roman sculpture.

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Professor Butter Beard and the Relocation of the Temple of Ramesses II