Erin's Olives: My Cure

Olives plucked directly from the tree are edible, but, unbelievably bitter. "Bitter" is really an understatement, for having tasted them that way, I can tell you that that they are pretty much spit-out bitter. Planted extensively in Southern California for their ornamental beauty and also for commercial purposes, the olive is, unless genetically engineered, a messy tree, spilling a blood-indigo colored carpet beneath its arbor when that season comes. Many years ago, when I lived in Tucson they banned new plantings for just that reason arguing that the trees were an unwanted source of allergens. There are many varieties, and one of the local favorites is the Russian Olive which is a very beautiful gray tree reminiscent of a weeping willow. The fruit of an olive has a gestation that takes it from pip, to firm greenness and shades on to a deep dark fleshy, fluid filled blackness that signals complete ripeness. One can choose to cure the fruit at any point between greenness and ripeness.

The curing of olives is one of the great achievements of mankind. Olive oil, is, and for centuries passed, has been used as a condiment and cooking medium, and probably more importantly as a vital fuel for lamps. Most olive oil comes from the stone, or pip, ground down or pressed. Olive oil has a very strong flavor and can overpower many Northern European or traditional American dishes. I remember being 15 and thinking that I would surprise my parents by making Southern Fried Chicken for dinner. I had watched my mother make the dish repeatedly over the years and learned her method, but, not having developed a real palette, I thought olive oil would be perfect as a medium, and of course it completely overpowered the dish. I was crestfallen for all my efforts even though we all managed to eat it up.

Times change. This last Christmas I was walking up the pathway to Erin Chairez's house in Bakersfield, and I saw that the young Russian olive tree, originally planted as an ornamental, was dripping with plump fruit. I went in, got a large bowl and began picking the the juicy morsels from the tree. I filled the bowl and brought them back down to L.A. You can cure olives with food grade lye and also with salt. Since it was an experiment I thought I'd forgo the cost of the mail order lye, which is also a poison, and try to do it with salt. I scored each deep dark olive with a knife at the branch end and poured water and salt over them to make perhaps a 15% brine. I love long haul food experiments, having learned patience with wine making and meat curing, so, I boned up on various methods from the internet and came to my own process. I poured the whole lot into a gallon ziploc bag and put them in the fridge and after two weeks I pulled them out and changed the dark maroon water with fresh brine and tasted one. Hardly a difference. I repeated this again and again , changing the water less frequently mostly out of apathy, almost thinking that it was never going to happen.

Last week, some three months on, having forgotten about the bag tucked away in a corner of the fridge, I pulled them out and tasted one. It was barely salty but deliciously olive-y. Time to rinse them and dry them. I spread them on a baking sheet at a 225 degree heat and checked them every ten minutes over a half hour period until they had shrivelled ever so slightly and I pulled one out and tried it. The flavor had intensified from that ever so slight dehydration. I resisted the urge to add chopped rosemary or garlic reminding myself that I am something of a flavor purist. I coated them very thinly with olive oil to seal them and unify their color and then canned some and slapped a quick label on the jar(see pic). I must say they are delicious. My only regret is that I did not pick and cure five times the amount. Ah well there is always next year!