Olive Oil

At any given time, on my pantry shelves, there is one, usually two, (sometimes three) open bottles of olive oil. It’s always the same kind: Whole Foods "365 Everyday Value", Extra Virgin Olive Oil, cold-pressed, “100% Mediterranean blend.” I know its precise location in the store— the first shelving unit, across from the seafood section amongst other oils and not coincidentally, various balsamic vinegars. I know its exact (current) price: $5.99. Say I’d just come from the optometrist and my eyes were dilated, my vision blurred, and I find myself unable to read. I could still pick it out: white label, with an eye-catching blue-green strip, highlighting the “100% Mediterranean blend” just above a white bowl full of plump green olives. Every once in awhile, I’ll hold a replacement bottle by the neck and quickly scan other varieties, intrigued by their labels and distinguishing characteristics. But the decision always comes back to price, and my go-to Whole Foods brand is the store’s cheapest. 

I don’t appreciate olive oil. Out of all the ingredients in my kitchen, it’s one of the ones I reach for the most. I use it to coat a pan before I cook eggs, or mix it in with rice to prevent it from sticking, or drizzle it atop a dish, if I fear what I’ve cooked is bland. Olive oil has bailed me out on countless occasions, preventing me from permanently welding a protein to a hot skillet. It’s made me look like a better cook than I am, the finishing touch of golden liquid strategically dripped onto a clean white plate makes the dish look worthy of a magazine cover, if in looks only. Olive oil is a backup singer— you don’t always acknowledge or appreciate its presence, but without it the dish would be…off. In short, I know my indifference towards olive oil is a culinary sin. This assignment isn’t so much penance, but the catalyst for my personal discovery of an entirely new food item. I want to appreciate olive oil in the way I’ve come to do with craft beer, specialty coffee and lesser known cuts of meat. 

At the suggestion of Heather Cramer, proprietor of Olive and Marlowe, a small, artisanal olive oil shop in East Liberty, I began my journey with Tom Mueller’s 2012 book, Extra Virginity: The Sublime and Scandalous World of Olive Oil. The book was an extension from an August 2007 exposé in the New Yorker, “Slippery Business”, in which Mueller reveals the seedy underbelly of the modern olive oil industry: “a story of globalization, deception, and crime in the food industry from ancient times to the present.”

According to Mueller, the first textual reference to olive oil is on cuneiform tablets at Ebla (Syria) dating back to the twenty-fourth century B.C. Throughout history, aside from food, olive oil has been used in religious ceremonies, as a means of exchange, used in soaps, applied to skin and imbibed for health benefits. Historically, the olive tree is indigenous to the Mediterranean region (including southern Europe and North Africa). According to the North American Olive Oil Association, this is where 95% of the oil is produced today, though its cultivation has spread to North and South America (namely California, Argentina and Chile). According to Livestrong.com, a tablespoon of olive oil contains 119 calories, and 13.5 grams of fat, 75% of which is monounsaturated fat, which has been shown to lower total blood cholesterol. 

Olive oil is predominantly a condiment, though some people will drink it neat (in moderate amounts), either for taste or for its health benefits. (See the above linked-to Livestrong article.) It’s culinary application is quite wide, from dressings and sauces, to a butter substitute in pastries. As natural products increase their market share, especially in Europe and the U.S., olive oil is increasingly (re)appearing in beauty products such as soaps. Olive oil not considered edible can be used as heating or lighting oils, though this use is probably quite narrow. 

Lastly, and most controversially, are the matters of meaning and taste. No two oils taste the same, though mass producers, through their corporatist standardization, produce a highly consistent flavor. In artisanal products, taste depends on myriad factors: region, temperature, soil composition, acidity, elevation, weather, rainfall, etc. Much like wine varietals, the final product will differ from year to year. Among the vast array of high quality extra virgin olive oils, taste, color, texture, mouthfeel and viscosity will vary considerably. One oil may be light and peppery, with notes of fresh cut grass, while another is dark in color, with notes of fig and currant.

As with so many other food products, global demand has increased and as Mueller explains in Extra Virginity, the market, especially the American market, has been flooded with inferior products that do not come close to meeting the stringent standard of being classified as “extra virgin.” Unscrupulous producers include additives from other oils (e.g. hazelnut or rapeseed) or use chemicals to enhance the flavor or expunge unsatisfactory tasting notes. The degradation of this ancient food item is cause for concern among enthusiasts, agriculturalists, farmers and anyone else who worries about the commoditization and standardization of food. Ultimately, as with other products such as beer, wine, chocolate, cheese and coffee, there is a small but growing number of growers, purveyors and consumers that are fighting this industrialized food chain and demanding diverse and quality extra virgin olive oil. I’m making room on my pantry shelf for a few quality bottles, myself. 

(For more information, visit Tom Mueller’s website, truthinoliveoil.com and check out his book, Extra Virginity. The website is a true resource, with a plethora of information, including a buyer’s guide, blog and schedule of events.)