November: 1913, 1963, 1983, 2013…all significant dates…

Today, the 22nd November 2013 is a significant date for a great many people as it’s the 50th anniversary of the shooting and death of President Kennedy.
john-f-kennedy
I have a few more dates in November that are of particular importance to me.

My lovely Mum in the 1940's I think.
My lovely Mum in the 1940’s I think.

I’ve already celebrated the first date, the 7th, it was my mother’s birthday and this year she would have been 100 years old. Such a shame she didn’t make it, she left us when she was 91, so a good innings. She was a great old lady and a very lively woman until she had a massive stroke when she was 85. Then she was wheelchair bound for several years but she still managed to get the most out of life. The nurses who cared for her in two nursing homes loved her. She was uncomplaining and carried a sense of humour with her everywhere. She died in January 2004 at which time she had been widowed for over 40 years and that brings me to the next date.

My Dad in 1963...as I remember him.
My Dad in 1963…as I remember him.

The 28th November. In 1963 less than a week after President Kennedy had been shot my dear lovely Dad, or Daddy as I called him, was fatally injured in a car accident on a dark rainy night. He left the house to go out for a drink and a game of snooker with his best mate and he never came back. I was just thirteen years old at the time. I’ve thought about him so often since that day. Hundreds of events have occurred throughout my life and my dad wasn’t there to share any of them. This year it will be 50 years since I said goodbye. I still miss him. Fifty is too young to die just a little older than Kennedy was.

Twenty-seven is also too young to die, but sadly that’s how old my son Tosh (Thomas) was when he left us nearly three years ago (Jan 2011). The 22nd November (today) marks the third anniversary of the last time that I saw him alive, we spent a few days together in the UK with other family and then a few precious hours just the two of us, I didn’t realise at the time how precious those hours would be but I am truly grateful for them now. Lovely memories. The 30th November this year would have been Tosh’s 30th birthday. The three years have gone pretty quickly and it hasn’t all been doom and gloom. There’s been a wedding in the family and a new baby. Time moves us on, relentlessly and every day I can find a moment to celebrate his short life.

Tosh (Thomas Hartley) My love son.
Tosh (Thomas) My lovely son.

I can’t do anything to change any of the things that have happened but I wish I had known my dad better than I did. At thirteen I hadn’t had the chance to get to know him as a person other than my dad. I don’t even know which football team he supported but I’m sure he must have supported one as he was keen on football and he was a very good amateur referee. I know he smoked Senior Service or Players cigarettes without a filter and I remember he couldn’t play the piano very well because our family have joked about it for years. I think he had a pretty good sense of humour, but that is about it! Perhaps my brother and sister can enlighten me further as they are older than me. I’m always reminding them of that; younger sisters are meant to be annoying!

I intend to make as many notes as I can about my life for my children and grandchildren. It’s not a vain thing to do it’s just that I’m sad that I don’t know enough about my parents and grandparents and now it’s too late to find out from any primary sources. All my aunts and uncles are now gone. I don’t want my children and grandchildren to be left wondering.

I'm adding this picture because I love it! I love the clothes, the style, it's a great photo! From the left, my dad, my mum, Uncle George and Auntie Florence (my mum's sister)
I’m adding this picture because I love it! I love the clothes, the style, it’s a great photo! From the left, my dad, my mum, Uncle George and Auntie Florence (my mum’s sister) I have no idea of the date it was taken.
My mum (front) and her three sisters, Florence, Pip, and Vera (from the left). Sadly they've all left us now.
My mum (front) and her three sisters, Florence, Vera, and Pip (from the left). Sadly they’ve all left us now. Vera was the youngest and my mum used to shout ‘Vera!’ at me by mistake when she was cross with me!

‘Tis the Season to Pick Olives, tra la la la la la la la la…..

Empty boxes in the field waiting to be filled. Beautiful November day.
Empty boxes in the field waiting to be filled. Beautiful November day.

One of the first questions I am asked when I speak to anyone about olives is, ‘Do you grow green or black olives?’ The answer is that all olives start off their life on the tree as green olives and then they turn black when fully mature. I didn’t know that myself until I came here to Italy, I assumed, as do most people that there are two types of olives grown, green or black. If picked in the middle of October, some of the olives will have turned black and some will still be green. I also didn’t know how beautiful olive oil could smell and taste; it was a complete revelation to me. As a young child my mother had put olive oil on my feet, I did a lot of ballet dancing as a child, I’m not sure what the olive oil was supposed to do but what I remember is the smell, ‘Yuk’, is all I can say.

The first time I experienced newly pressed olive oil I was completely overwhelmed with the freshness of the scent. I had been picking for a few days and it was as though the tree, the olives, the leaves, everything I had been working in and around, had been brought together in liquid form. It was amazing and I honestly felt I could just drink a glass of it. I didn’t of course but I did taste it neat from a spoon without any bread, salad or any seasoning. It was delicious. Mild and fruity, there was a slight after burn at the back of the throat after swallowing. Perfect! The great thing is that after five years of harvesting I still get a thrill when I remove the lid from the 50 litre can of fresh virgin oil, breathe in the perfume and get ready to taste the content.

Empty 50 Litre Oil Can...most exciting picture I've posted.
Empty 50 Litre Oil Can…most exciting picture I’ve ever posted. I suppose I could have pretended it was a full can, (it’s dark inside…)

The next question asked is, ‘What is extra-virgin oil?’ Well, as far as I know it’s the oil that comes from the first pressing and when the temperature of the press does not rise above 30deg. In other words the olives are not pressed so hard that machines get hot and the oil is spoiled. A true extra-virgin oil must be tested to prove that it is free from additives and contain no more than 0.8% free acidity (oleic acid)… bla…bla…bla…I don’t really understand any of this so if you want to know more I suggest you Google it. The oil I have is bloody lovely, that’s all I care about!

Bottle of freshly pressed oil
Bottle of freshly pressed oil

Raccolta delle olive (Olive harvest)

Each year friends and family help to pick the olives. Whether you’re Italian or stranieri (foreigners) it’s the same. Most Italians families living in the countryside have enough trees to produce sufficient oil to last for the year. They use huge amounts of olive oil, not just for cooking but plenty for eating too. They take it with bread or pour it over salad with a little lemon juice or apple vinegar and seasoning. The average Italian family probably use around 40 litres a year, so I’m told.

Helping Hands
Helping Hands
Younger helpers always welcomed! Some eager visitors!
Younger helpers always welcomed! Some eager visitors!

 

More Helping Hands
More Helping Hands

Picking starts in the middle of October, although I have heard of some who begin very early in September in order to have very green oil but I find that a little to bitter for my taste. The press normally opens in October and operates until the end of November or perhaps into the early part of December. At the height of the season the press will be open for 24hours a day.

Spreading the Net
Spreading the Net

A large net (or two) is placed under the tree and then everyone scrapes the olives from the branches either with their hands or with a short or long handled rake. It is difficult sometimes to reach the very top branches but The Man usually gets up the tree with the clippers or a saw and prunes the tree (drastically!). The branches that are cut off can then be conveniently stripped on the ground; onto the net of course. It takes quite a long time and any newcomers are very keen at the start of the day but after about four hours picking the enthusiasm wanes. It makes your back, shoulder, wrists and legs ache and you find muscles where you never knew they existed! Coffee, tea and snacks are provided and then pickers are rewarded with a large lunch and lashings of wine! So it’s not all bad.

Lunch !
Lunch ! (actually 2012 lunch)
The Dog Helping (NOT)
The Dog Helping (NOT)

There are a few dangers associated with olive picking, falling out of the tree and being stabbed in the eye by the very sharp olive leaf. It happened to me a couple of years ago. It makes sense to wear eye protection. It’s also important to take care when climbing the tree, as the older branches can be quite brittle and not able to take too much weight. Take note, The Man.

The Man...at the helm of the olive tree.
The Man…at the helm of the olive tree.
Off to the press with a full load
Off to the press with a full load
Arriving at the Press
Arriving at the Press
Loriana and Maria Pia working hard at the press
Loriana and Maria Pia working hard at the press
Weighing in...one of these big boxes holds about 250k of fruit
Weighing in…one of these big boxes holds about 250k of fruit
The olives start their journey through the press
The olives start their journey through the press
Olives enter the first stage of pressing
Olives enter the first stage of pressing
End Product
End Product

Phew! Finished picking now until next year! Plenty of work left to do with tidying up and more pruning etc., Think I’ll leave that the The Man…and his dog.

‘Twas pig’s trotter…..

Yes, the mystery dish of the last blog post was PIG’S TROTTER, I think you either love it or hate it. It looked delicious and didn’t smell too bad, it had been cooked with fennel and sage in a tomato sauce. I took quite a large spoonful before I knew what it was. For me it was an unnerving experience, I did not like it at all. Gloopy, boney the texture almost made me gag. But I did try it, which I think is the important thing. A couple of people thought it was tripe which is a popular dish here in Le Marche but also something I just can’t stomach.

Pigs Trotter
Pigs Trotter

BUT for me this was the ONLY downside of the meal. The rest of it was absolutely fantastic. Delicate flavours, a variety of dishes, I have put the menu at the bottom and tried to translate it for you. My favourite was the butternut squash and potato soup with rosemary and sage. I also enjoyed the fried herbs, the pork with thyme, bay leaf, and marjoram (this was a pork scallop I think rolled and stuffed). Everyone around the table had particular favourites but the pigs trotter was enjoyed by a select few, or perhaps only two. The Italians seemed to enjoy it though!

I must remind you all that the cost of the lunch was only €22 per head for Antipasti (starters)  Primo (pasta, polenta, beans or other such dishes), Secondo (meat or fish mains) Dolci (desserts) and the price also  included, wine, liqueurs, coffee.

Antipasti
Involtino al centocchio e noci (nut rolls)
Frittelle di campo e crocchette mentolate (fritters and croquettes made from herbs and field plants)
Zampetti al finocchietto selvatico (pig’s trotter in wild fennel)
Pane del Parco aromatizzti (delicious variety of herb bread)

Primo
Crema di Zucca gialla e patate al profumo di rosmarino e salvia (soup as above)
Crespelle cicorie miste (pancakes with mixed chicory and tomato sauce I seem to remember)

Secondo
Maiale in velo al profumo did timo, alloro e maggiorana con contorno di cicorie all contadina
Stuffed rolled pork with thyme, bay leaf and marjoram.

Dolci
I dolci Petritolini
These were sweet biscuits with fennel seeds served with vino cotto (cooked wine which tastes a little like sherry/mulled wine)

After all this Lino appeared at our table with his homemade liquorice liqueur, it was very strong treacle like liquid. I managed a couple of glasses, just to be polite of course! I then spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping it all off.

Beautiful Sprig of Bay
Beautiful Sprig of Bay

 

A little taster for next blog…

Mystery Plate of Food
Mystery Plate of Food

Can anyone guess what this plate of food is? It was part of the ‘antipasti’ ‘starters’ for those non Italian speakers. I’ll be blogging about the meal next week so if you guess right I’ll let you know then. No cheating if you were there at the meal with me!!

Ciao

A Walk on the Wild Side…

mountains Escursione guidato nel parco fra erbe ed olive in fase di raccolta
Guided hike in the park between herbs and olives at harvest (literal translation)

Each Sunday during October and November Petritoli celebrates herbs and olive oil with the Erba Olio Festival. It is the time for picking the olives and taking them to the press, I’ll blog about that soon as we’re in the middle of our harvest now. The Comune (local council, pronounced co-moon-nay) organise events at different venues. They usually involve a talk about wild herbs and then a meal incorporating herbs and olives/olive oil in some way.

Last Sunday with friends, I decided to take part in a guided woodland walk before a substantial lunch priced at € 22 a head including wine, coffee and liquers. at Parco Galeano, a local Agriturismo. An Agriturismo is usually in the countryside, it will have a restaurant, accommodation (B&B), possibly a shop and a proportion of the food served must be their own produce and the remainder must originate within a very short distance (within 20k I think).

The walk and talk was supposed to start at 10am but when I rang to book they said to come closer to 10.30 which my two friends and I duly did. Of course, this is Italy so there was not another soul to be seen. They were working hard in the kitchen preparing our lunch but no-one had yet arrived for the walk…so…we sat in the glorious sunshine, it was about 25 degrees. We waited…and waited…A lady in a tracksuit, anorak, boots and hat arrived after about 20 mins, she carried with her a large bag, she was Italian, we knew she was Italian because of the amount of clothing she was wearing. As it’s October it’s obligatory to wear autumnal/winter clothing regardless of the ambient temperature. We expats of course were in T-shirt and light-weight trousers. We did sport our trainers in preparation for the ‘hike’. This well clad woman definitely didn’t need a guided walk as she proceeded immediately to fill her bag with all types of green foliage and it was soon bursting with a huge scrumptious feast for… a bunny maybe? At least that’s what we thought then, but later we would be so much wiser.

At last our guide Lino (pronounced Leeno) arrived. He was delightful and after introductions and lots of jolly laughter he looked around asked where everyone else was. We shrugged our shoulders and said, ‘solo noi,’ (only us) and pointed also to the bag lady, but she was bottom up in the corner of the abandoned vineyard, digging up some root or other. Lino must have realised immediately that she was ‘on her own’.

Me, the girls and our guide Lino
Me, the girls and our guide Lino

My Italian is not so bad, my understanding is better than my speaking and my two friends Helen and Jan, knew some and a little Italian respectively. It was going to be an interesting walk.  To look the part I wore my walking shoes and my small back pack. ‘Lets get going then! Andiamo!’ I pointed to the track leading down to the woods and parkland. We moved less than a metre, in fact the whole ‘hike’ took us no further than 25 metres from start to finish. Which I suppose is impressive when you consider I took over 60 photographs of different types of herbs, grasses, fruits and other plants, all with varying degrees of health giving properties, ailment fixers, de-toxing thingies, I mean this small area had more goodies in it than any health food shop or whole food store. Gosh and golly it was awesome!

One small area with many different herbs and grasses.
One small area with many different herbs and grasses.

The trouble was there were so many diverse plants with Latin names, family names, common names, nicknames etc., and they often looked very, very similar. I cannot remember a single one…oh I lie I can remember Rucolo Romana (Roman Rocket) with a white flower, but I didn’t photograph that. I already knew the wild rocket with a yellow flower, dandelion, cornflower and blackberry, that was about it. Shepherd’s purse I had heard of but would not have been able to identify. Lino told us it was called Shepherd’s purse because of the triangular shape of the seed pod, shaped like a Shepherd’s purse. Am I repeating myself here rather too much? I absolutely loved every second of Lino’s interesting talk, he knew so much and wanted to share his knowledge with us. We tried hard and he wrote lots of notes down for us in Italian or Latin but at the end all I could remember was,

Non mangiare. Va bene mangiare. Buono per cucinare. Non raccogliere (Don’t eat. Okay to eat, Good for cooking. Do not pick.)

DONT eat this!
DONT eat this!
Not good to cook!
Not good to cook!

Wild Rocket...okay to eat!Wild Rocket…okay to eat!

I’m sorry to say that I couldn’t walk through the fields now and identify many of the ‘va bene mangiare’ and experimenting would not be a good idea. I wrote down the number of each photograph on my piece of paper with the plant name beside it, but when I uploaded the photos I think I must have made a mistake somewhere as I had the blackberry bush identified as Corbezzotto Arbutus Unedo…WRONG as you will all know…the blackberry is Robus Hulmifolius…so there! (hope I’ve got that correct!)

There was one other category this was for the plants that were good for the ‘suocera’ (mother-in-law!) Hmm…

Don't know what this was...maybe one for the mother-in-law?
Don’t know what this was…maybe one for the mother-in-law?
Lino didn't know much about mushrooms and toadstools but he thought this one was okay.
Lino didn’t know much about mushrooms and toadstools but he thought this one was okay.
Cornflower..."put this in the ice cube" Lino suggested.
Cornflower…”put this in the ice cube” Lino suggested.
"veronica" she gets everywhere!
“veronica” she gets everywhere!
Edible fruit, tastes like custard with the consistency of blancmange.  Sounds weird? It was strange but okay.
Edible fruit, tastes like custard with the consistency of blancmange. Sounds weird? It was strange but okay.
Blanket of something delicious (I believe)
Blanket of something delicious (I believe)

Next blog will be about the lunch! Watch this space…..:)