olives

Arnie drove us down to Chatsworth in his tech filled van to visit Kayla for Thanksgiving. Every day we would take Poncho for a walk through the park behind their rented house in the Simi Valley. Walking with Rian, we came across a tree full of ripe black olives. The limbs were heavy, and the ground was littered with them. I picked a few and then filled my pockets with as many as I could carry and suggested we return with a bag, so I could collect more. I wanted to try pickling olives.

The next day Amanda, Rian, and I returned, and I kept them waiting while I foraged, combing the ripe berries from the dry leaves. I would have gathered more, but I felt guilty making them wait, and it was difficult enough to get the ones I collected back home on the train.

I opened a half dozen olive pickling recipes online and selected this one. The process has taken a few months. I started by discarding the damaged berries and slicing the rest with three or four vertical cuts to help the oleuropein, a nasty tasting chemical, leach out of the skin. Then I soaked them in 9 water baths, changing the water every day.

They just finished the last of four week-long soaks in brine and I bottled them in three large resealable jars with a mixture of brine and balsamic vinegar and apple cider. They should be ready to eat in a week. The ones I tried after brine baths already tasted fine.

For the effort put into them, it would have made more sense to do two or ten times more. If I lived closer to that olive tree I would have collected gallons and made a press to squeeze the oil out.

I now have three jars of olives crouched on the floor by the cat feeder in dark pools of spiced brine. They will garnish my meals and I will eat them whole as an afternoon snack. In future Novembers, I will pay more attention to olive trees.

posted by na on January 9, 2025 16:10