Goodbye gym, hello olives!
Our first olive harvest at La Meridiana: from tree to tin. Read our story and discover our own Tuscan olive oil, now available to order.
10/25/20264 min read
Late October, and we’re realising that we’ve been here for just three months. Or three months already, depending on how you look at it. During those three months, we’ve had a little taste of our new Italian life. A bit of the culture, a bit of school, a bit of how people interact and a bit of farming life. Every new experience takes us another step further into discovering our new life.
And during harvest season, that life is anything but quiet. Watching the olives: are they turning black? What flavour do we want to achieve? How do we get them off the trees, and which mill do we take them to? You may have guessed it already: this blog is going to be all about olives!
I still work for the Netherlands, and three weeks ago, with another trip coming up and my eyes on the olives, I started breaking into a cold sweat. In Dutch, we call that feeling “Spanish anxiety”. Although Italian anxiety would be more appropriate here. I’d decided to give the soil one more light cultivation before harvesting the olives. Side note: driving a tractor is the most relaxing work there is. After a week of working with your head, it’s the perfect remedy for clearing your mind. Goodbye gym, hello tractor!
While working the soil in the lower olive grove, all I could see were black olives, with some already lying on the ground. To me, that was a sign they were ripe. The lowest branches of many trees were also completely bare. No leaves, no olives, nothing… A sign of wild animals. Together with the droppings on the ground, it became clear that the wild boar had started helping themselves to my harvest. Suddenly, the stress was back. I was about to leave for the Netherlands while a whole group of wild boar apparently planned to eat their way through my olives.
After a few days in the Netherlands, I return home and visit the olive mill with our agronomist. It all sounds perfectly straightforward: we deliver the crates, you call us, we collect them, and the next day you have your oil. Couldn’t be simpler. We agree on a price and, before I know it, I’m back outside. Easy peasy. Or so I thought.
We also arrange a harvesting team. Picking olives with friends and family might look wonderfully romantic in the pictures. In reality, it’s simply hard work, with a fair amount of time pressure thrown in.
But when do you start harvesting? You look at the colour of the olives and think about the blend you want to create. Then you need an available harvesting team, while half of Tuscany is naturally looking for one too. And finally, the weather has to cooperate. Suddenly, I feel like Johan Verschuuren (who remembers him? The longstanding weatherman at Omroep Brabant, our regional broadcaster back in the Netherlands), constantly looking up at the sky. And checking the weather app, of course, although Johan didn’t have one of those back then. Just try getting all of that to line up!
Last Friday, the moment finally arrived: the start of the harvest, our very first olive crop. It might sound strange, but it felt like a real milestone for us. The harvesting team was supposed to start with fourteen people that day. When work began, however, the headcount stopped at four. The explanation was clear: today we start with four, but tomorrow, tomorrow everything will be fine.
With that reassurance, Hanneke and I got to work on a few trees ourselves. I mean, how difficult could it possibly be? There I was with my pneumatic olive shaker. A shaker that seemed better suited to massaging the olives than giving them enough of a nudge to fall off. Either way, it took quite some effort. Eventually, we decided to pick them by hand. Something I wouldn’t recommend to anyone.
Meanwhile, the first small crate was full of olives. Looking at it, I also realised that the mill still hadn’t delivered the large crates. Messages and phone calls got us nowhere. The olives, however, were starting to come in steadily. Luckily, it was also the end of the working day. Still no crates.
The next morning, fourteen people are standing in the yard at seven o’clock, armed with supersonic olive shakers. Ready to tackle the trees. We temporarily lay out a tarpaulin to pile the olives on while we wait for those crates. And yes, they do eventually arrive. After plenty of chasing and a few rather irritated phone calls.
And then, just as we’ve finished two plots, it starts raining after all. Rain means no harvesting, so everyone stops. We tidy up, and the mill comes to collect the olives. The next day, a phone call: your oil is ready.
At that point, you still don’t know how many kilos of olives have been pressed, what the oil yield is or how many litres there are. So when I head off with Sofie, casually thinking we’ll pick up our oil, the man greets me with a friendly smile. Containers full of olio d’oliva, along with compliments from the miller on the high oil yield.
I couldn’t resist opening a container right there to admire the greenish olive oil. Then I was offered a spoonful of our very own oil. Honestly? Such an amazing feeling!
Home with a car full of olive oil, then down into the cellar, ready to be packed into tins. Because good olive oil doesn’t like sunlight. The first part of the harvest is complete. Part two will start when the weather is a little more settled and, of course, the team has time. The crates? I’ve already got those.
Reading this and thinking that oil would fit nicely in your kitchen? Then we have good news. Our olive oil is now available from La Meridiana, safely packed in one litre tins, with nothing added and ideal for cooking. For yourself or as a lovely gift.
You can order now by emailing info@la-meridiana.nl, and soon directly through the website too. The first shipment leaves for the Netherlands on 31 October. For those who are quick to decide: there’s still room for your tin!