For a couple of years we cooked whatever came off the trees together. The jam was good, and it was always slightly different, which we liked. But the more we paid attention, the clearer it became that the green figs and the dark figs were making two different jams and we were averaging them.
The Kadota and White Adriatic cook to a gold-to-rose jam with a honey sweetness. The Chicago Hardy, cooked with skins, makes a deep plum jam with a berry edge and more tartness. Put a spoon of each on the same piece of toast and there is no mistaking them.
So now there are three: white, dark, and the mixed jar for the days the basket refuses to sort itself. We still think the mixed one tastes most like the garden.