Ricochet is the best place on the internet to discuss the issues of the day, either through commenting on posts or writing your own for our active and dynamic community in a fully moderated environment. In addition, the Ricochet Audio Network offers over 50 original podcasts with new episodes released every day.
Friday Food and Drink Post: Olive Me
I don’t really like olives all that much. But I adore the idea of olives. And olive groves. And the Mediterranean. The stories by Peter Mayle and Carol Drinkwater. The presence of olive trees, olive oil, olive wood, and of course “olive branches” in our mythological, literary and cultural traditions. And the history of an ancient industry that has survived, in many cases relatively unchanged, for thousands of years.
The idea of olives is so very different from my own chilly and pedestrian life at the moment. The idea of olives is beautiful, and soft and warm. (Important as I write this because, even on the third day of Spring, the view from my window is dreary, the wind is bitter cold, and nasty, little chippy bits of frozen something are falling from the sky.) So I’m thinking about temperate breezes from warmer climes, and the joys of olive farming.
Sorry about the music, approximately seven minutes:
There are, apparently, over 600 varieties of olives, and each of them is unique both in texture and flavor, and much affected by the soil, climate and altitude in which it grows. Olives are harvested at varying stages of ripeness: green-ripe, all the way through black-ripe. Because olives right from the tree are almost inedible, they must be cured before being eaten, a process which is done by fermenting, soaking, salting or drying, or some combination thereof, and all of which must be done before the olives arrive in jars, or cans, or fresh at the salad bar at your local market. (I think about an gnarly ancient, pulling down the tempting-looking little fruits from the trees and sampling one, spitting it out, and thinking “Ugh. What can I do to make these sour little lumps edible? I know! Lye! I’ll soak them in Lye!” I mean, really. Who thinks that way? Someone must have, I guess. Wonder how many people died before they got it right, though.)
Although I don’t like my olives “neat,” I sometimes like them “in” things, and one of those things is Tapenade, an olive spread that works as a dip, or a spread on crackers or toast:
1 1/2 cups brine cured olives (be very sure all of the pits have been removed)
2 anchovy fillets, squashed with a fork
1 1/2 tablespoons capers
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
2 cloves garlic
3 tablespoons lemon juice
Salt and pepper (I usually don’t add any more salt, because between the olives and the anchovies and the capers, there’s enough)
4 tablespoons olive oilBlitz everything except the olive oil gently (use the “pulse” rather than the “on” function) in a food processor till chopped (you don’t want it like hummus, you want some texture)
Drizzle in the olive oil and pulse a couple more times.
Refrigerate if you’re not going to eat it right away. But let it warm to room temperature before enjoying.
Do you like olives? What kinds of olives? Stuffed or plain? Brined or in oil? Fresh or dried? How about olive oil? Which, in your opinion, is the nicest or the best, and what region of the world does it come from?
And what, besides the obvious, do you do with olives in your food and drink? Recipes welcome.
Published in General
Wonderful! Thanks.
Thanks. And an insightful and correct bit of a book review, BTW.
I love cookbooks with lots of pictures. As convenient and comprehensive as recipe searches on the Internet can be, there’s nothing like the old-fashioned way, if you want to be transported on your culinary journey. And I’ve made flavored oils–it’s quite easy if you’ve got the time to let them steep. And fun. (Pro-tip: Start with a decent quality mild oil, doesn’t have to be extra-virgin, or the most expensive).
I have tried for years to like olives, hoping that I would experience what the olive lovers assure me is attainable, the desire to pop an olive in the mouth and not spit it right back out again in horror and outrage…
Olive oil, on the other hand, is a delight.
A woman pretty much after my own heart! Yes, it’s that whole “triumph of hope over experience” business. The only olives I remotely enjoy are the dried black ones, usually from Crete (they look like large raisins).
Yes it is.
I ate an olive once.
Once.
When I was in Spain on business, cocktail hour always was accompanied with a large plate of the most delicious olives. They were a light-ish green, often mottled with light brown spots, buttery, very small, and absolutely addictive. To me, at least. It got to the point that when I would arrive a chorus went up: “has everyone had their olives? Barbara’s here.” Some would say that there was a swath thru Spain that had been denuded of those olives…
Growing up there were the green ones with pimento and black ones, period. Every so often a jar would appear with those huge green olives that were supposedly very special. By the time I was traveling over seas, tapanade,etc., and cooking with olive oil still were not common. So my olive education was very slim. Had I known that there are over 600 types of olives I would have asked what variety they were for I have yet to find them even at olive bars in specialty shops. I have found some very tasty ones but no luck in finding those little Spanish ones. As for those huge green “special” ones that come in jars (they’re wretched!), no one could ever fault you @MattBartle for having eaten an olive, once…