I’ve taken a circuitous route to olive oil, starting with bacon drippings. One, the fruit of the Mediterranean, the other, well, the pig. Whenever she cooked bacon, which was several times a week, my grandmother saved the drippings in a small aluminum container that had its own built in ‘filter’ in the top. Any bits would remain in the filter and whatever dripped through would be the pure bacon grease. Gross to some I suppose, pure heaven to my grandmother and to those of us who ate her food. She fried steak in bacon grease, potatoes, embellished green beans with a spoonful, and used it to make her wilted green salad, a salad which as a young child I loved. The bacon grease did it – I would eat anything with the essence of bacon. Still true, though I’ve added olive oil to my repertoire.
These olives and their oil are not my grandmother’s bacon grease, but they’re equally delicious. Pork fat has come into its own again as a ’safe’ fat, and some say we should be eating it for its benefits. Likewise with olive oil, its origins in the drippings of the olive.
I’m in Italy for a few more days, bathing in the whole olive experience. Orchards everywhere it seems (perhaps not on the northern borders). We’ve had olive oil tastings as well as wine tastings; pasta and vegetable dishes shimmering with it; empty plates with residual juices plus a little more olive oil – you can’t let that go, one more piece of bread, please; picnic olives from tiny Cetona’s own small meat/cheese market, which was stocked with everything from decadent Italian butter, coffee, proscuitto, pecorino and parmesan cheeses to olives harvested just a few months ago. If it leaks in the plane I’m in trouble (I’ve been told it won’t). I’m carrying home a hefty can of olive oil from Tuscany’s November 2009 harvest.
But what about the other olive oil . . . the California variety? The one that comes from my own region of the world, more or less.
The domestic and imported versions look almost the same, are almost the same. However, one was transported five to six thousand miles to arrive in PNW grocery stores, the other more like seven hundred miles. One is steeped in romance and ancient history, the other not so much, though California has a little olive oil history of its own. Olive trees were originally planted at Spanish missions there in the 18th century, thrived for a while and then languished during most of the twentieth century. Clearly there’s a revival happening now. Italian, Greek and Spanish oils are not easily abandoned and I don’t suggest that, but we do have a domestic alternative that deserves consideration.
California olive oil can be found in most grocery stores. I admit, you have to check labels a little compulsively, and there’s a hitch. Several, but not all of the domestic brands, are a mix of California and imported oils. This includes organic Napa Valley Olive Oils (the Napa Valley Naturals brand), which can be found at many grocery stores, in bulk at PCC and is a mixture of California and Argentine oils. You have to be tenacious about discovering your own best source, and there are options to explore online. Links below are a source of additional information.
I’ve heard rumors that there may be a gutsy B.C. farmer willing to try growing olive trees. It sounds crazy, but there’s more and more evidence about the variety of foods we’ve given up trying to grow that we might grow successfully again. PNW olive groves may or may not be one of them. So, what’s the point? If you enjoy the taste and health benefits of olive oil, and wish to find ways to diminish your carbon footprint and the affects of global warming, then domestic olive oil is something to consider. (Or, you could buy a pound of locally produced bacon every couple of weeks.)
While you’re thinking about it all, try this herbaceous mix with a delicious loaf of bread. 
Pour a little dish of olive oil (from California?) and add to it a few morsels from the garden: a sprig of rosemary, a smashed clove of garlic, bay leaf and a pinch of salt. Dried Sungold tomatoes from last summer are a luxurious addition. Dive in with a piece of that bread, take a bite, savor it and be grateful that seven hundred mile olive oil is an option, which is about five thousand miles closer than the admittedly luscious imports from southern Europe.
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Sally, I’m transported to the “mercado” in Cetona and can smell all the wonderful “odori” of beautiful local foods. Your words from the land of living locally and stepping lightly is especially fitting for Mixed Greens. What I am always impressed with is the manner with which you can bring us in the PNW news of the ways that many are trying to live more locally and lightly. Mille gracie por tutti!
Jeanette
Thank you, Jeannette. I’ve been tuned in to the seasonality and regionality of everything here. There’s such pride in that, which I think we have a version of too, but not with the same intensity. Seems to me a good thing when it comes to the environmental issues of living more locally vs. globally with regard to food.
And since I’m right here I might as well bring back a little of their olive oil, though California’s is decidedly our regional alternative.