It’s mid-November and autumn has finally hit the Sabina with temperatures around 43º in the morning and central heat necessary in the evening. Reds and oranges dust the hills, which were solid green only ten days ago. Many Casperians have finished their olive harvest, but the larger landowners are still picking away and will be into December. The local mills send out their aroma of freshly pressed oil that tastes exactly as it smells—earthy, thick, and a touch bitter but delightfully so—and tasters know that wonderful flavor won’t last long, for in a matter of weeks the thickness and richness settles to the bottom of the vat and clear oil remains for the rest of the year, the flavor tamer.
Olives were plentiful this year, abundant, and after last year’s paucity the farmers are humming happily as they pluck with electric clippers to the finish line—case after case brimming over with olives—some trees yielding four or five cases of olives, when the norm is more like one or two. Some olives are black, some green, and some black-and-green; some are large and some like hard pits. The blend of all these varieties is what counts. And Sabina oil is pure, not mixed with oils from other regions or countries. Each family returns from the mill with his or her own product. I call ours “Caprignano” after the hill such trees have grown on for more than one thousand years.
Day Tours
Our Mangiare Bene establishment is now doing Day Tours to the Sabina for Rome visitors who love nature and Italian hilltowns and seek a different experience—the same one the Romans themselves sought for their leisure time. Newlyweds came in October asking for a morning cooking class followed by sightseeing. It was a memorable day, both in the kitchen and out—we visited Casperia’s Presepio, Cottanello’s hermitage church S. Cataldo, and by chance, the Forani palace and garden, because the owner happened to be in town. For me it was especially wonderful to spend a day with newlyweds—Kim and Adam—on their honeymoon.
When olive season arrived, Emma A. called from Rome to ask if she and her visiting relatives could come pick olives. The day was sublime, in spite of its New England-style weather. Sunshine first thing in the morning, as I laid out the nets under the trees we would pick. By the time I drove to the train station, a serious downpour threatened to ruin the day—the entire landscape of hill and valley was blanketed in dense cloud, the kind that never lifts. Thus it seemed a miracle, when fifteen minutes later, as I pulled up to the station, the sun broke through and spread a glittering shimmer over the Tiber River and the soaking fields surrounding it. We did not see rain like that again, though we had alternating sunshine and clouds most of the day. Later, while eating a delicious lunch prepared by a friend in his frescoed dining room, rain returned, but also stopped by the time we finished eating.
During our picking, Emma and her relatives—Chuck, Mary, and thirteen-year-old Sofia—cleaned off five or six olives trees with meticulous attention. I’ve picked many more trees in my time than they, but whenever I finish a tree and look back at it for a final farewell, I always find clumps of olives I missed: Why didn’t I see you? I think. But my visitors left nothing behind, and even picked up the olives on the ground that had fallen through several holes in the nets.
One of the best parts of olive picking is the communal spirit around the tree. Raking olives off the branches is pleasant work, mirrored in pleasant conversation. People get to know each other, they share stories and ideas; they joke and laugh together as if old friends. The olives are a delightful fruit with a great destination—heavenly ingestion—and for this reason they inspire love for nature, for food, for home and the table. These sensations imbibe the work and convivial spirit around the trees. Fortunately, I had oil pressed from earlier in the week to send home with the visitors; I imagined each succulent, savory drop poured over bread would bring back a fond memory of Casperia and olive-picking. “Caprignano 2008” has been an incredible blend!
-Gail