Oil
I am trying to streamline the page look, just click on a photo to see it full-sized.
I told you I went to a frantoio with my friends at Massa Martana in southern Umbria Thanksgiving Day, right? Well, here are some photos of that day and evening. The mill pictures were all taken in deadly fluorescent light, but that’s what there is.
Larry and Shelly, whose olives they are.
These olives are waiting to be transported to sorting and washing.
This part shakes them to remove leaves, stems or other possible contaminants.
What I hadn’t remembered was how much water is involved – water that is removed at the very last step, leaving that golden ribbon to flow cleanly into the stainless steel containers.
The truth is that when I took that backlit shot of the oil I saw red glowing through, but nothing I could do in my photo program could get it back.
Oil never tastes again exactly like it tastes as it flows from the mill. Whether you hold bread under the stream or just a finger, it’s a flavor you can never forget. There may not be a finer food in the world than real, cold-pressed olive oil.
3 comments December 15th, 2006
