Five days and a finely trained pair of picker’s hands later…it is a very rainy and cold Toscana Wednesday. No picking today. We were planning to finish the harvest by days end and to take the olives to the press tomorrow, but the skies have told us otherwise. Instead, we spent the morning bottling wine, and the afternoon zoning out in front of the fire. I’m still in my pajamas. The weather gods are threatening snow tomorrow, so we may be in store for another day of greasy hair and comfort food here at Camp Olive.
The crop is actually a bit disappointing this year. Very few olives. Mostly climate and drought related, but also due in part to the lack of pruning and maintenance to the trees after last year’s harvest. With under 5 crates picked, we will be lucky to get 20 kilos of oil, in comparison to the 120 kilos they got last year. In other words, don’t wait by your door for a FedEx bottle of Olio to arrive.
Team Olive ’07 is quite a laugh. Adam, Max, Ugo, and the lone lady, moi. Adam is a 27 year old Aussie, easy-going, patient, good guy. He has been living and working in London for the past year, and just completed the Camino, the 800K, 37 day walk across northern Spain before arriving here. In reference to the title of this blog, I will also note that Adam has a long-term girlfriend.
Max is a charming, intriguing character. He is 67 (single & looking) and has lived and traveled all over the world. He drove his caravan here from Bulgaria. I am still having trouble grasping the road maps for that. He is one of the most even–tempered, tolerant men I’ve ever come across. A strict vegetarian (and computer software consultant), Max runs 10K every other day, and today, took the day off to go in search of Muesili somewhere in Southern Tuscany. What a nut. I don’t think that Max or Adam have one ounce of body fat between them, so I, being the team player that I am, am storing their allotted amount on me.
And, of course, there’s Ugo. The Olive Boss Man. Ugo spends the majority of the day on a ladder in a tree, cursing at the branches. Ugo is a thorough, passionate (and stubborn) soul, but I am not sure that Ugo is synonymous with efficient. Enter Katie. I have felt a bit like the olive picker production coordinator, location scout, cheerleader, director, producer & supervisor of attempted efficiency. Go figure. But note, when trying to accomplish a time sensitive task, sometimes it is inefficient to load a surplus tractor with a few light-weight items to drive said tractor less than 50 feet. Especially when everyone has to walk to the same place as the tractor’s intended destination. Just pick up the equipment and go. And with 4 people and nearly 200 trees, I thought it wise to reduce the level of haphazard picking and doubling of efforts, and to develop some sort of strategic picking roles and order. Ha! That’s when I learned to keep my mouth shut and go to the kitchen where a woman belongs. Just kidding. (Though Barbara did teach me how to make her pesto the other day and I am still practicing Tuscan domestic goddess-ism).
Team Olive shared some good laughs, and exquisitely beautiful sunny days. A few where I had to stop and remind myself that my entire goal for the day was to pick as many olives off of the tree in front of me as possible. To take a deep breath, appreciate the infinite rolling hills on the horizon, and all of the characters surrounding me. And at that point, who gives a shit about methodical picking?
Italian farmers may beg to differ, but I think that we have given these trees so much to smile about, we have essentially guaranteed them health and abundance in the year to come.
Allora.
In case you pass a tree on Fifth Avenue, some techniques for your picking pleasure:
The Basic Grab
This is olive picking in its purest, simplest form. All you need are your hands. Clean or dirty. Think of picking a raspberry off of a bush, or a single grape off of a vine. This is an excellent technique for the lower branches of a tall tree, or for the totality of a smaller sized tree. Merely pick the olive and drop directly into your crate or basket.
Note: The utilization of this technique often results in random olives stored, and hopefully later found, in pant, shirt, and coat pockets.
The Milk The Cow
This technique utilizes the Olive Picker’s Glove. The OPG is a form fitting cotton glove, adorned with little rubber nubbies on the surface of the palm. Think “tote” socks, but for the hands. This technique also utilizes the Olive Net. The Olive Net is a huge mesh net that surrounds the base of the tree and prevents the olives from falling to the ground. It is really like one big tree bib. With a periphery of sticks hammered into the ground, the edge of the net is raised and rested over the sticks, providing a lip that allows for the falling olives to land on the net instead of scattering across the ground. When performing the “Milk The Cow” (Note: these are not yet universal picking terms, but merely, Katie’s terms) place one hand over the other and smoothly move down the branch, letting all olives fall to the net beneath you.
The Bamboo Bash
A favorite of mine. Though I’m not sure it is totally kosher with the more hard-core pickers. This technique involves a long bamboo cane that you beat & shake the branches with until the olives fall to the net. Very similar to a birthday party game of piñata. You can work up a good sweat with this technique, and it is incredibly satisfying when a strategically placed whack frees a very stubborn olive.
The Ladder Techniques: A Subset
All of the above techniques can also be performed while on a ladder in the tree. Additional techniques used with the ladder include the sawing off of and pruning of branches. Often I supervise the ladder techniques from my home base on the ground, as I am not always keen on climbing the “sturdy” ladder that is resting against the “sturdy” branches. Especially after a lunch with Vino Rosso and a shot of Bulgarian Vodka.
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An Anecdote
At 11:33 this morning, I received an email with the subject line:
“Ciao baby, I hope to see you in N.Y.C on Nov 23rd”
The email continued:
I hope you remember me, Michaelangeloleather.it Florence, Italy?
Aha! Alberto the Florence leather store owner. The note went on to ask me out for dinner during his 2 day trip to New York. Let us remember that Alberto is somewhere in his 50’s and wears some sort of eyeliner. Most unfortunately, I will still be in Toscana.
In other male news:
I was also asked out by Marco, the train conductor. On my way home from a day trip to Arezzo, Marco, instead of collecting my ticket, sat in the seat across from me and started to chat. As tends to happen when I engage in these conversations because I think of them as harmless, fun Italian practice, this conversation resulted in my declining interest in a “date.” Marco resembled Chris Farley, with a little more teddy bear in his face. And when Marco put his hand on my leg, I thought, hmmm, wait a minute, I would not tolerate this on an Amtrak train. And that is when I told Marco enough. Marco was a bit over the top in his heartbroken reaction to my lack of desire to see him again, and this is when another woman on the train, a daily commuter, told me that, yes, indeed, Marco is just a little bit crazy.
To top it off, the animals, though all male, have decided to slumber party in my bedroom. I woke up at 4am the other night, surprisingly warm (positive effect of excess carbohydrates?) and upon reaching down to remove my ski socks, found my legs wedged between two cats. While Billy the dog was snoring on the floor.
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A Second Anecdote
It’s 8:30pm and its fucken cold. I’m wrapped in more fleece than I would ski in, and yet, there seems to be no snow or slopes. There is, however, an abundance of bare olive trees!
We finished the harvest and picked up our oil from the press this evening. I think everyone was a bit tired and disappointed with the small amount of oil, but I think it was quite a celebration to eat dinner tonight with our own bottle of oil adorning the table. At least for me, it was pretty special to soak a slab of bread in the oil that comes from the olives that we hand –picked. (Or bamboo-bashed). Not exactly an every day affair.
And now, quite full on too much bread and oil, a Tuscan facial is in order. This is when I boil a huge pot of water over the stove and stick my face in the steam. A perfect way to feel clean, yet remain fully clothed through out the process.
Minor confession: I cheated and took a real shower last week. Alberto & Anna practically forced me into one of their four exquisitely beautiful marble showers. And I didn’t do much in the way of resisting. Tiles, jets, excellent water pressure, and Anna has an exceptional array of products.
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