For almost an entire month, I have been in an olive oil induced haze...yes, we picked olives this year.
With the help of many friends, I have laid out nets under at least 200 trees, moved ladders to and fro, hand scraped more olives from their branches than I want to count,
emptied crate upon crate of olives into bags,
made exactly 3 trips to the frantoio, olive oil mill, for pressing,
bottled and labeled specialness for friends, and ate a boat load of fire toasted bruschetta with just a hint of garlic, salt, and a drenching of electric green oil.
I have to say, it certainly was not as much as I have done in years past, but it was still a bit of work. However, the reward is incomparable. Tuscan olive oil, yes I am biased, especially when it is freshly picked and pressed has to be the best in the world. It has an almost harsh spiciness in the back of your mouth that makes you eager for more. I drizzle it on salads, soups, veggies, of course bread, anything I can really. In fact, over the past month I cannot tell you how many times I have uttered the words...excuse me while I wipe the olive oil off my chin...
