Olives olives olives

I thought I would bring you all up to speed on the work that I've been doing since I am supposedly volunteering on a farm.  Picking olives is pretty easy work, but it gets a bit tiring day after day after day.  Basically the system is this:  we spread large nets around the trees to catch the olives and then we just pull the olives off of the branches, either by hand or with small rakes.  Some people use a machine that looks like a spider on a stick to shake the higher branches and knock the olives down.  We don't use one here, which is nice, since they are loud and obnoxious. Instead we use ladders or just climb the trees to get at the high branches.  Olive wood is incredibly flexible. Most of the branches can be pulled down to ground level.

Once a tree is harvested we dump the olives into a crate and store them in the house until we have enough crates to go the the mill.

The mill is called Il Frantoio, which comes from the verb 'to smash up.' I like that.  The building is very old.  It has been a mill for hundreds of years, and used to be powered by water which was directed to the machines through a small system of canals and dams. Now all the machines are electric.  Not quite as romantic, but effective.

Anyway, when we arrive at the mill we carry the olives upstairs where they are weighed and then dumped into a big cermaic bin. Once the machine starts the olives fall through a hole and into the 'olive oil assembly line.'  

Here's Dino, il padrone, encouraging the olives to go and become oil.  After this step the olives fall past a vacuum which sucks out (most of) the leaves and other junk.  Then they are washed and passed over a conveyor belt.  This is a good oppurtunity for 'quality control,' and Louise, our English neighbor and partner-in-oil, provides this service.

The olives then enter a series of grinders, much like big horizontal concrete mixers.  After this the mashed up pulp is directed into a large centrifuge, and the solid material is carried outside of the mill and dumped into a large pile of odorless, brown... stuff.  Then the oil is seperated from the other liquids.  Finally it arrives, in all of its glorious color!

Now for the fun part.  We all go into the next room, make a big fire in the hearth, cook bruschetta, sausages, and whatever else we have, and try everything with the most virgin oil you can get!  The taste is peppery, a touch bitter, and 100% olive.  Oh yes, and of course there is plenty of wine.  Even the dogs try some.

Well, there you have it: olive oil from harvest to taste.  I hope that all of you are well, and I wish you a happy Thanksgiving!  I have been invited to an American's house for a Thanksgiving meal this Sunday, so I will get my fill of the usual fare.  In fact, that's her up above, sitting next to the crazy South American painter who is giving the dog a taste of wine.  I love this place...