AT THE FRANTOIO - 2009

I didn't think we were going to visit a frantoio this year.  Art helped Giacomo haul his olives to the frantoio, but didn't stick around for the actual pressing, and I didn't even go along.  Our favorite frantoio in Pigge didn't have enough oil to sell this year, and it was rainy on the "Frantoi Aperti" weekend.  Luckily our friends Larry and Shelly arrived back in Italy to harvest their olives, and invited us along to watch them turn into oil!  There were ten of us, so it was a party, especially when the owner of the frantoio brought out the bruschetta, dripping with the new olive oil!  YUM!  Here are some pictures from our visit to the La Pace Frantoio in Massa Martana, not far from Todi.

























Two Franciscan priests stopped by....








And FINALLY Larry and Shelly's oil started pouring from the spout!  They had a record amount - 70 liters!

















And the leftovers…..

MORE OLIVES, MORE OIL

We'll be helping friends harvest their olives this weekend - and I can't tell you how happy we are with the wonderful weather we're having! Picking olives in a coat and gloves isn't near as much fun as being able to do it on a beautiful, sunny day with mild temperatures!

The olives seem to be hit and miss this year - friends near San Venanzo had every tree filled with olives, and others have had practically NO olives at all. I'm hoping this weekend will yield lots of olives - meaning lots of new oil!

THE 2009 RACCOLTA

All the photos are HERE on our Flickr page. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to go to the frantoio to see ‘our’ olives pressed, but if I do, you can be sure there will be more photos!

THE NEW OIL 2008

Last week we visited the CIPOLLONI frantoio to sample the new oil. CIPOLLONI is located outside of Foligno, and initially I was worried that their oil wouldn't be the spicy mix of moraiolo and other olives we like so much. The man who was our guide immediately put my mind at ease by telling me they used 80-90% moraiolo, so I knew we'd like their oil!

Although we've seen the process many times before, it's still fun to see the olives go in one end of the building and eventually come out as oil at the other! This oil was so green....and delicious!




More pictures on OUR FLICKR PAGE.

IT'S ALWAYS SOMETHING!

We continue to stay busy, and usually in very unexpected ways. Oh the advantages of being retired! Lunch tomorrow? Sure, why not? Can I stop by for a few days for a visit? Great! Can you help us pick olives this weekend? Glad to! And so it goes….

After finishing with Belinda and Giacomo’s olives, we thought our olive picking season was over….but no! We knew our friends Larry and Shelly would be back for a week or two to host their annual Thanksgiving get together, but we didn’t know if they’d had someone local pick their olives for them, or if the trees would be waiting for them once they arrived. I emailed Shelly to tell her we’d be happy to help and waited for a reply.

Meanwhile, Beverly and Ron, who we met in August at the Rotecastello medieval festa, had emailed to say that they too would be returning to Umbria for a few weeks. We’d never been able to get together during August, so we were determined to make it happen this time. Although we’d only talked to them for a few minutes, they seemed like people we’d like to know better. I told them to email us once they were recovered from their jetlag and we’d take it from there.

Additionally, we had yet another surprise email….from Rhonda, who we’d met at a SlowTrav get together in September. Rhonda, aka Limoncella on the message board, had been traveling throughout Italy since then, and was ready to leave Sicily and head north. Umbria was a good place to stop along the way, and she said she’d arrive on Saturday and leave on Monday. She knew she wanted some local wine and olive oil, so we thought maybe a trip to Montefalco might fill the bill.

Beverly called us with good news and bad news. The good news was they were in Italy safe, sound and recovering from jetlag. The bad news was they had no heat…at least no heat from the radiators, and were relying solely on the fireplace for warmth. Calls to plumbers and other technicians hadn’t yet produced any definite results. We invited them for lunch at our house on Friday, and hoped they’d stay warm enough til then.

When the phone rang early Friday morning we thought “Oh no, it’s Ron and Bev calling to say they can’t come for lunch!” We figured the heating repairs had been set for that morning, and when you don’t have heat and the technician says they’re coming to fix it, you drop all other plans, so we certainly were prepared to understand. Except that it wasn’t Ron OR Beverly…it was Rhonda, saying that she was on the train to Marsciano, and that she’d be arriving at 9 a.m. HUH??? Wait, she’s not supposed to be here until tomorrow, right? Well, we looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and Art got ready to go pick her up.

And so lunch that day was us with three Canadians in our kitchen. We had a great time getting to know everyone better, and I had a ball listening to their accents….I just love it when they say “aboot” for about!

Ron and Beverly left that afternoon with the WISH for having us to their place for lunch, but with the heating situation still not resolved, Ron was toying with the idea of taking the next flight back to Toronto.

Art had run into Belinda and Giacomo earlier that day when we stopped by the post office, and they’d invited us over for a drink, and to meet Giacomo’s dad, Santi, who was visiting from Sicily. Well, at least Rhonda was getting to meet several of our friends.

On Saturday morning we headed to Montefalco. Trying to accomplish as much as possible in a short time, we figured the drive to Montefalco would give Rhonda a chance to see some wonderful Umbrian scenery, Montefalco itself would give here a chance to see a cute medieval hilltown, and as a bonus she’d also be able so buy some olive oil in 1 liter tins. We like the one liter tins because they’re small enough to squeeze into a tiny space, there’s no worry or breakage, and the tins are much lighter than a bottle. Trouble is, one liter tines aren’t always easy to find, but we were pretty sure we could find them in Montefalco.

Once we arrived in Montefalco we were distracted by a few other shops along the walk up into the centro, but eventually we arrived and headed straight for our favorite enoteca. Yes, they had olive oil in one liter tins, but it was all last year’s oil! Boo! The proprietor told us the new oil would arrive within a few days, but of course Rhonda didn’t have a few days. We checked with another shop but found the same situation. And then Art had an idea….

When Shelly called to take us up on our offer to pick olives and learned we were going to Montefalco, she asked us to stop at the local hardware store and pick up several one liter tins. We’d done that when we first arrived in town, but now Art suggested that Rhonda buy another tin or two and that we have them filled at our local frantoio. Great idea!

Our plan was to have some lunch, return to San Venanzo, then later drive over to the frantoio. We weren’t 100% sure that the frantoio was still open for the season, but it seemed likely. Just to be safe though, we decided to watch for any signs along the road announcing ‘new oil’. As luck would have it, there WAS a sign…and it was just seconds outside of Montefalco’s walls! I’d forgotten about this frantoio since we hadn’t visited it previously, but we pulled in and smelled the wonderful fragrance of olives/olive oil as soon as we opened the car doors.

Once inside the small frantoio we asked about having Rhonda’s tins filled, and were happily accommodated. The tins were wrapped in plastic and taped up so there was no danger of leakage, and we were on our way. Mission accomplished!

Of course lunch would be at our favorite pizzeria in Marsciano, Nestor's. We hadn’t been there in several weeks, and Belinda and Giacomo told us Giuseppe and Mara had been asking about us. We were only too happy to say hello in person! We ordered pizzas from the oven and were entertained by six year old Annalaura, who was anxious to show off her artwork….Babbo Natale!

After lunch we returned to San Venanzo, and later Art would walk with Rhonda down to our local grocery store to buy a few small (375 ml) bottles of 1997 Brunello for an incredible €15 each!

Sunday morning was partly cloudy, and definitely colder than the previous olive-picking weekend. We bundled up and headed south towards Massa Martana to pick olives. As expected, some trees were loaded while other contained only a handful of olives. We made quite a bit of progress, and later, when neighbors stopped by, they pitched in too! What could be more Italian than picking olives with a cigaret in your mouth? Well, I guess he could have been talking on his cell phone, but that might have been pushing it!

Once we lost the daylight…damn I hate that it’s dark by 5 p.m!...we warmed ourselves at the fireplace with a glass of wine, then went to meet friends for pizza. The neighbors came, kids in tow, and twelve of us enjoyed the meal and the company.

On Monday morning we took Rhonda to the train station to catch a train for Venice. We got to the station in plenty of time, but needn’t have worried; the train was about five minutes late. We piled all of Rhonda’s belongs on board and she settled in. We waited for the train to depart so we could cross the tracks and return to our car. And waited……..and waited. Conductors conferred. People stuck their heads out the window. Calls were made. Most of the other people on the platform eventually walked around the front of the train to cross over and go back to the station and/or their car. We didn’t want to leave Rhonda stranded, just in case, so we waited.

At first we thought we were waiting for another train to arrive, but eventually it was discovered that there was a problem with the switching device, and workmen had to manually switch the track. After about a thirty minute delay, the train finally left the station, and we hoped Rhonda would make her connection in Florence. We told her to check with the conductor on board about connection times, and reminded her that she might be entitled to a refund if the more expensive train she’d paid for had already left the station. Rhonda’s been traveling since September, so we were confident she could handle the situation.

Back home the house was quiet, but not in a bad way. Now it was time to relax, do some laundry, maybe have some of that new oil on freshly toasted bread for lunch.......and wait to see what tomorrow would bring.

PICKING OLIVES 2007

We helped Belinda and Giacomo pick their olives last weekend. We should have picked them a few weeks earlier, but events conspired against us, so we picked them as soon as we could. Most yields are down this year due the dry weather we had last winter. For Giacomo and Belinda this problem was compounded by the fact that many of their older trees were moved last spring to make way for a new building project. Although all the moved trees seem to have survived the process, as you might expect they didn’t produce much (if any) fruit this year. On the good side, the younger trees produced exceptionally well, but of course still didn’t equal what an older larger tree would have. Additionally, I would expect that last year’s bumper crop might be followed by a lean year. In the in we ended up with half the olives we had last year.

We had beautiful weather for picking the olives…always a blessing. With shorter days and cooler temperatures, having a sunny day makes all the difference in the world. As we picked we could hear the neighbors in the next field talking and laughing as they too finished up their raccolta (olive harvest).

Giacomo had to make a quick trip to Amsterdam to see his children, so on Monday we helped Belinda load the car with our six crates of olives and take them to our local frantoio near Collelungo. Once there the crates were sent upstairs on a conveyor belt where they were weighed and transferred to large wooden trays. This is the process used for those who don’t have enough olives for their own pressing. These small groups will eventually be combined and pressed together, with each person getting their percentage.

I don’t know how many olives (by weight) are needed to have your own press. Last year the twelve crates we had were enough, but the six crates this year were not. Additionally you must make an appointment to have your olives pressed, and when you make the appointment you must estimate how many olives you’ll be bringing in order to help estimate how long each pressing will take.

Once the olives were weighed, trayed and labeled, we went into the office to see when they could be pressed. The rather impatient woman in the office told Belinda that her olives could be pressed “maybe on Friday”. Since many of the olives were VERY ripe, we all knew that they should be pressed as soon as possible. The woman insisted to Belinda that this was impossible! Impossible! But of course this is Italy, and nothing is impossible, you simply have to find a way around the problem.

Belinda asked if any of her neighbors had pressings scheduled. Alberto had an appointment on Friday, but another neighbor, Daniele, had an appointment on Tuesday afternoon. Could we possibly combine our olives with his? The woman at the mill said as long as Daniele agreed, it would be fine with them. We left for home, and Belinda called Daniele to see if she’d let her add her small harvest with his. Daniele, a friendly, smiling, guy told Belinda of course she could add her olives to his, so we arranged to meet on Tuesday afternoon.

Once we arrived at the frantoio none of us were surprised to find out that they were running behind. You’d think after years of doing this that both the frantoio and the farmers would have figured out a better system, but for some reason people seem to underestimate their yield, meaning that their press takes longer than expected…and throwing the schedule completely off.

We took the opportunity to drive Belinda into Ripavella, just down the road. Our friend Wendy has a lovely house listed there, and Belinda and Giacomo have a client who’s searching for the perfect property. We hoped we’d be able to help all our friends do some business and make some money. We’d seen the property just outside of Ripavella about a year ago with some friends from Poland. The house is beautiful and the land has over 300 olive trees. The clincher for us was the pool, with it’s amazing view of Montecastello di Vibio.

We then drove into Ripavella, a tiny little place, to have a coffee. I think Ripavella has one bar and one tiny grocery store, and because it was barely 3 o’clock, we weren’t sure if the bar would be open. Normally bars do stay open during the afternoon, but in such a tiny village things might be different.

Luckily we’d been here before and knew that the bar was around the back of one of the buildings. As we walked down the hill we saw a woman on the balcony above and asked if the bar was open. “Certamente!” she said, but when we tried the door it was locked. She told us to wait, and just then a man came around the corner to unlock the door. Art and Belinda ordered coffee, I had a bottle of water, and we sat at the table chatting.

Belinda asked the man behind the bar a question, and of course he could tell that none of us were Italian. He told us that an American couple had bought an apartment in Ripavella, but that they didn’t live there fulltime. Another man entered the bar and he too joined in our conversation about the many ‘stranieri’ (foreigners) in the area. He told us that his cousin had been married to an American, and I immediately said “Frank!” “Yes”, he said in English!, “my cousin was married to Frank.”

Of course that led to a conversation about our friend Frank, who died last November. Although he had continuing heart problems, Frank continued to smoke, and eventually his heart gave out. It wasn't surprising to find a relative of his in this area...Frank's wife was bron in Ripavella and most of her family lives in San Venanzo.

We decided we’d better get back to the frantoio to see if Daniele had arrived, and if by chance they might be ready to begin pressing our olives. When we arrived we saw that Daniele had arrived with his cousin, and they were getting ready to empty their crates into the huge hopper. Belinda’s olives were dumped down a chute, and the olives gradually began their journey into the frantoio. Out of the hopper they sent via a short conveyor belt and were sucked into a long tube. This tube took the olives to the inside of the building where they were washed, and where many of the larger leaves and stems were separated. After this they were sent to large stainless steel vats were they were crushed into a red looking mush. As you can see in the slide who, one of the vats was overfilled, and the mash (and eventually it’s oil) oozed out.

The olives filled up four of these vats…well, three and a half… and they churned away in the vats while the olives of the person before us were processed. Once it was our turn the valve was opened and Daniele and Belinda’s olives began the final step. The liquid was extracted and the semi-solid waste was removed. A centrifuge separated the water from the oil, and eventually the oil began to flow! We all ran a finger through the stream of oil to have our first taste! The oil was thick and silky, but with a nice spicy taste.

The oil was then sent via a tube to the lower level where it collected in a large tub. The residual scum was skimmed off the top, then a pump was hooked up to send the oil to the containers. Each container was set on the scale and weighed before it was filled so that the weight of the oil could be determined.

We knew that Belinda’s olives weighed 117 kilos, about 10% of the total. Last year’s olives had yielded about 14% oil, and of course we were all curious to see what this year’s yield would be. Belinda thought she’d be lucky to get ten liters, but once the numbers were crunched the yield was 17.7%, and Belinda’s share was 22 liters….probably enough to last them the whole year.

It was around seven o’clock by the time we left the frantoio, and we stopped at the store on the way home to buy some bread for bruschetta. I opened some cannellini beans too….another perfect food for drizzling the new oil! Of course it was delicious, and knowing that we’d all worked hard for this oil made it taste even better. The three of us toasted the new oil, and enjoyed a well-earned dinner at last.