We had some glorious weather a few weeks back and while Jeremy drove our excess oil over to the UK I began cleaning, priming and limewashing exterior walls. Rather than do everything in one go I’m doing it a section at a time, so that I can be encouraged rather than depressed by my efforts. Sadly, rain has meant that I’ve had to put the painting on hold, but the bits that I’ve done are looking very tidy indeed.

Jeremy always drives to the UK with a friend so that they can share the driving, making Le Mans style driver changes every four hours. For a change they caught the ferry in Dunkirk so that they could avoid the majority of French tolls and seem quite happy with the new route through Luxembourg and Belgium, which took just 20 hours from southern Italy.

For such a long drive I usually make the boys something they can munch whilst driving. They’ve had panzerotti, calzone and Cornish pasties in the past, so this time, as a variation on a theme, I made them some mini-samosas.

As these went down a storm I thought I’d share the recipe, as followed from an old Rosie Elliot cookbook. I don’t know why I don’t make these more often, as they are so easy and delicious and if you do mini versions they are perfect party finger food.

To make 32 mini or 16 big samosas

Mix 300g flour, 1 tsp salt and 2tsp baking powder before adding 4tbsp oil and between 150 and 200 ml water, so it’s soft but not sticky. Knead for around 5-mins, then divide into 16 pieces. Roll into circles, then cut each in half, wet the edges, fold over, fill with cooked, spiced filling and fold shut before deep frying until golden.

For the big road trip I went for the classic pea and potato mix. Fry a chopped onion, then add 2tsps each of mustard seed, fresh ginger, ground cumin and ground coriander. If he wasn’t going to be sat in a car for 20-odd hours, I would have added a bit more spice . Season and take off the heat and add boiled potatoes, which have been cubed and either fresh or defrosted peas.

Among the goodies Jeremy brought back with him was an order I made with Real Foods, whom I’d thoroughly recommend. By bulk buying mixed Omega 3 seeds and various sizes of oatmeal I paid less than half the price for those for sale in healthfood shops and supermarkets. Best of all, Real Foods don’t charge for deliveries over £15 in the UK. They even post overseas, but obviously this would incur some postage.

Armed with oatmeal and seeds I made some oatcakes, which are both delicious and good for you. I’ve not tried to make the Staffs-style oatcakes yet, but here is a recipe for the Scottish variety, which go rather well with a sliver or two of Parmesan. The recipe is from Bill Cowie, of Rona’s in the Inner Hebrides recipe, as repeated by HFW in the Guardian.

To make about 20.

140g medium oatmeal
140g porridge oats
10 twists of black pepper
½ tsp salt
A small handful of seeds (optional)
75ml extra-virgin olive oil

Preheat the oven to 180C and dust two baking trays with flour. Mix all the dry ingredients in a bowl. Pour the oil into a well in the centre, then pour in enough boiling water to bind it into a firm, not sticky, dough. Work quickly. Don’t worry if you over-water a bit, you can remedy the situation by adding more oatmeal.

Form the dough mixture into a ball and leave it to rest for the time it takes to open a bottle and pour a glass of wine. Roll out the dough on a floured surface (dust with flour, too, if it’s sticky) to about 5mm thick.

Cut out discs with a cookie cutter or just cut them into triangles. Place on the baking trays and bake for 20 minutes, then turn and bake for a further five to 10 minutes. Cool on a rack. Store in an airtight container.

As some, which I cooked on the solid hob as an experiment, were a bit on the crumbly side I used these instead of breadcrumbs in a batch of spinach and spicy bean-burgers. A friend in Scotland uses them on top of pasta and I’m sure they would work well in any gratin.

While oatcakes would make the perfect food for lent there’s been no fasting in this house since Jeremy’s return as he came back from blighty laden with chocs and crisps. We also had a friend visit for Easter, so we ate out a couple of times and went to one of the Easter parades in our local town. The last time we watched an Easter parade it was just after the earthquake in L’Aquilia, so it was even more sombre than usual.

This time we didn’t bother to follow it around town with the faithful, but we did watch Maria Addolorata, looking understandably sorrowful and a selection of statues representing the various episodes of the trial and Crucifixion of Jesus Christ begin their journey around town.

It always amazes me how they manage to carry seven really heavy statues down such steep steps without dropping them.

Although I’m not religious, it’s impossible to not be moved by the procession, although our friend, who is Irish said it was a lot jollier than Easter events back home and she was particularly impressed that the bars and restaurants were all still open.

Like everything else in Italy, bread is regional and while the bread may differ, its appearance at every mealtime does not. In Italy a meal is not a meal without bread, so it’s no surprise that Italians consume more bread per day, per person than the rest of the EU.

Rustic Italian loaves are white and generally have a chewy crust and a soft, even-crumbed centre. Unlike French bread, which is full of large holes, Italian bread is just perfect for mopping up either oil or tomato-based sauces. Fare la scarpetta, roughly translates as “to do the little shoe,” and refers to mopping ones plate clean using a small piece of bread. This shows both appreciation of your meal and also helps with the washing up.

Another common theme of Italian bread making is the use of natural starters and wood-fired bread ovens. There are three types of starter: the everlasting starter (or madre) is a sourdough made from natural yeast, the starter dough (or biga) made from beer yeast a day or two before the dough is made and used in its entirety, and the mother dough (pasta madre) which is literally a piece of dough kept back from the previous day’s baking and added to the next batch. All these starters, to a greater or lesser degree, give the bread qualities that cannot be found in a loaf made without a starter.

The use of brick or stone ovens is still common throughout Italy, providing unique crusts and colour. Most homes in the country have a wood-fired oven and most bakeries in Italian towns are also wood-fired. Thanks to the wonderful skills of Chiahui (one of our visiting helpxchangers) we can even provide dragon-fired pizzas.

The dry cured olives, currently stored in olive oil have quite an intense flavour, maybe a little too intense for me. These work well with feta (the cheese cuts through the intense flavour) so I’ll be saving these for Greek salads.

The first water method olives are still quite hard and bitter, so I’ll continue curing them for a while longer.

The uncontested winners in the olive-curing stakes (in this household anyway) are the olives, which had been slit before being cured in salt water. These still have a strong fruity olive flavour but minus any bitterness. They are also soft enough without being mushy.

As we are already down to the last jar of olives cured in this manner, I picked another basketful at the weekend, but as a variation, I pricked each olive with an olive fork several times before immersing them under salted water.

These shouldn’t take too long to cure, as the olives are fully mature right now. In fact I was lucky to find any still on the trees.

The oil we produced back in November will soon be ready for sale. Details about the oil are here and we will add further details, regarding pick-up points nearer the time.

In other news, we’ve just enjoyed a week of wonderful weather, so we took the opportunity to do some planting and weeding. We’ve planted potatoes, kohl raab, french beans, chickpeas and some herbs and reclaimed some of the veg plots, which had become dwarfed by weeds.

Now we can see them properly, both the peas and broad beans are coming along nicely, but we’ve still to tackle the onions and garlic. I was hoping to attack them today, but the rains have returned, so I’ll just have to wait a bit longer. I really hope we don’t get too much rain though, as it feels really good to back out growing again.

Other good news is that the storm damaged mimosa tree has blossomed in time for International Women’s Day, which is held on March 8^th and it is marked in Italy (and Russia and Albania) by the giving of yellow mimosas, and if you are reading Jeremy…chocolate. Known as the Festa della Donne in Italy, I was intrigued to find out that in ancient Roman times one of the first spring festivals was held on March 8th for Ariadne, whom Thesius abandoned on the island of Naxos after promising to marry her if she helped him slay her father’s pet Minotaur. Seduced and abandoned she became a symbol of ancient womanhood. Ariadne was comforted by Bacchus, whom she later married. I’m guessing that things picked up after she hooked up with the God of wine/fulltime party dude.

I think it’s fair to say that Ariadne’s story has little to do with International Women’s Day, rather, it is about showing solidarity and respect for oppressed women worldwide. This tradition to give mimosa sprigs started in Italy after the end of WWII when men presented their mothers and wives with these flowers as thanks for their support during the war.

So be nice to all the women in your life and help support those who are oppressed.

All thoughts of spring and rejuvenation were somewhat soured, however by the sound of herbicide sprayers in the neighbourhood. It seems that a bit of sunshine and the slightest hint of anything green is enough to persuade most contadini to get the toxic chemicals out and the sprayers in.

On Saturday morning Jeremy had a chat with a contadino in a bar, who was bemoaning the fact that his land is too wet to walk on and that more of his soil had washed away in recent rains. After explaining that this was because there was no vegetation to help hold the soil in place: coverage, which, incidentally protects the ground from getting wet and muddy, the contadino’s response was ‘but how do you collect your olives without using weed killer?’

Compare our green non-muddy land to next door’s quagmire

Keeping the ground clear under olive trees and eliminating a fire hazard during summer are the two top reasons given by contadini for continual herbicide abuse. See the greening of the grove to understand why contadini prefer bare soil under olive trees.  I really think the big agrichemical companies did quite a number in Italy as these arguments are pervasive.

Land is tilled constantly and herbicide is used to prevent grass from taking hold, because the contadini firmly believe that this aerates the roots and encourages permeation of rainfall.

What it actually does is lead to soil erosion and desertification. Erosion reduces the soil’s productive capacity causing lower productivity, which in turn leads to greater use of fertilisers. While erosion is the result of a combination of many factors, such as: soil type, slope, rainfall patterns and inappropriate farming practices; the use of chemical pesticides and fertilisers causes impoverishment of soil, while over tilling compacts the soil, exposing it to the erosive effects of rainfall and reduces the soil’s organic content.

I mentioned in A windy start to the year that the worst damage to olive trees was on land with no grass growing owing to excessive herbicide use. I don’t think it’s coincidence that everyone I know who gardens organically suffered no damage in the recent storms.

The following two pictures were taken on a piece of land, which recently lost huge olive branches off six ancient olive trees. Not only was there damage to the trees, but you can see the damage done to the dry stone walls as water has gushed over them.

Water eroding soil

Taking the wall with it

Damage to the walls caused by soil erosion every time it rains leads to yet more reduction in the diversity and quantity of flora and fauna.

Walls help increase biodiversity

It’s not rocket science to realise that soil erosion can be limited by maintaining grass cover during key times of the year. I’ve mentioned before that we followed local wisdom for fear of starting wild fires and duly rotavated our land to ensure there was no kindling left during the harsh summer months.

Nowadays we just strim the grass before it becomes a fire hazard and despite the protestations of our neighbouring contadini, life is gradually returning to our land.  The grass cuttings get absorbed by the soil, so that when the September rains come and the soil is bare, the mud isn’t as sticky as the dead clay that is the result of weed-killer use.

Even more encouraging is the fact that when it rains we no longer lose any soil. The water, which trickles down our driveway, is clear in colour and it’s not a torrent, unlike our neighbours who all see to have brown rivers rushing away. When we’ve saved up enough money, we intend to put a new underground water tank at the bottom of our driveway, so having clearer water is going to make the job of filtering that water much easier.

Maintaining the stonewalls and terraces will also help any landslips and eventually, when the mammoth task is completed, enable us to graze sheep under the trees, which offers the best of all worlds: No need to buy and apply toxic chemicals, the sheep disperse ‘fertiliser’ as they wander around, and the fire hazard is eliminated.

Thanks for joining me here at my new blog address. I decided to look for a new host as I was getting a little peeved at the insidious invasion of adverts and with GrowVeg I’m guaranteed ad-free hosting.

As I was changing domain name, it made perfect sense to update the look of my blog. It’s still a work in progress, but I hope you enjoy the new photo slideshow and ability to either view the site in a magazine or mosaic format and I hope to add many more funky features in the future.

As my old site won’t redirect you here, make sure to change your bookmarks or subscribe via email by using the option at the bottom of the sidebar.

The address of my blog is now:

http://contadina.growveg.info

February 2^nd is Candlemas Day, or Groundhog Day in North America, and marks the midpoint of winter; halfway between the shortest day and the spring equinox, so it’s not hard to figure why it has spawned so much weather-lore around the world.

Known in pre-Christian days as the Festival of Lights; it was a celebration of the increasing strength of the life-giving sun as winter gave way to spring.

Never known to miss a trick for turning pagan festivals into Christian ones, the festival became Candlemas, where a mass was said for the candles to be used by parishioners the following year.

Alternative names for the day are: the Presentation of Christ in the Temple, and Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  I wonder if these hark back to the pagan Imbolc festival, which comes from a term for sheep’s milk, and is a reference to the first milking of the ewes in the spring. Imbolc is a fire festival and also a day of purification and beginnings. February comes from the Latin februare, furthermore, which means to purify and in Roman times February was a time of cleansing and purification.

Although there are slight variations across Europe, Candlemas proverbs pretty much all say the same thing…

If Candlemas be fair and bright,
Winter has another flight.
If Candlemas brings clouds and rain,
Winter will not come again.

The use of animals, most notably groundhogs in North America to predict the arrival of spring or a second winter on February 2^ndcan be traced back to ancient Rome. When conquered by Romans, the Teutons picked up on the

tradition, and concluded that if the sun made an appearance on Candlemas Day, a hedgehog would cast a shadow, thus predicting six more weeks of bad weather. If no shadow is seen, then spring will come early.

German settlers in Pennsylvania continued the tradition but used a groundhog rather than a hedgehog. Having never met a groundhog I couldn’t say whether the similarities are physical or relate to their hibernation cycles.

Wolves, badgers and bears also feature in many Candlmas celebrations/superstitions, performing much the same task as the groundhog.

At Putignano in Puglia a Bear Festival is held on February 2. If the weather is good, the bear (a costumed actor) builds a haystack to protect himself from the coming bad weather; if the weather is inclement, however the bear can relax because the weather will be good from then on.

Another Puglian take on the use of the natural world to predict the weather on Candelora (as Candlemas is known in Italy) is the laying of eggs. In local dialect, osc’ e a Cannlor e tutt l’ jaddin zeccn all’ov translates as on Candlemas day the hens begin to lay. I found similar old English proverbs refering to geese, with the gist meaning that good geese lay on Candlemas and if they haven’t laid then they won’t until St Valentine’s Day.

Eggs are a symbol of spring, rebirth, and fertility, which ties in rather nicely with the over-riding theme of all the Christian, pagan and secular celebrations held on February 2^nd. In Ireland it is known as Brigit’s Day, in honour of the great Irish Goddess of fertility called Brigit.

With all these thoughts on new beginnings and fertility, we made a pact with a neighbour yesterday to hold a seed swapping party at the end of the broad bean fava season. We’ll hold the Festival of Fave once the beans have dried at the end of May or the beginning of June. Guests will swap any seeds they like, not just fava beans, but the reasoning is that swapping of the same variety with other gardeners will help maintain a healthy stock of seed.

Whilst Tuscans are known as bean-eaters, in Puglia the preferred staples are fava beans and chickpeas. Fave are refereed to as la carne dei poveri, or the meat of the poor. An octogenarian neighbour confirms how important they were to the poor in Puglia as when he was growing up he ate pureed fava beans for breakfast, dinner and tea.

Ncapriata is a puree made from dried peeled fava beans (with or without a potato added), dressed with olive oil and eaten with cooked bitter greens, preferably wild chicory. It’s a Puglian staple and is one of life’s simple pleasures, which definitely helps fill the hungry gap when the garden is less productive.

Everywhere you go in Puglia, people have their own variation on this recipe, but this is the favoured method in Ceglie and the one, which will feature heavily in the Festa di Fave.

First soak your beans overnight and then remove skins before boiling for around half and hour if using a regular saucepan or around eight minutes if using a pressure cooker. The use of a pressure cooker is probably sacrilegious as the dish is generally made in terracotta jugs nestled next to a fire.

Drain the beans and then add some chopped peeled potatoes (a couple of large potatoes for every 500g of dried beans) to the pan before returning the beans. Salt and cover with water (not too much mind as you don’t want a watery mix). Cook until the beans are soft and the potatoes disintegrate. I use a vegetable to mill to puree the mix but you could use a potato masher or ricer or go the traditional route by pummelling it with a large wooden spoon. Season with salt and lashings of Puglian olive oil.

Whilst the beans are cooking you need to wash and cook your wild chicory. If you can’t get hold of wild chicory then any mix of bitter greens, such as dandelion, rocket and chard will do. It takes around 20 minutes to braise or steam the chicory but it’s a good idea to change the water midway though cooking to leave a hint rather than an overpowering bitterness. Alternatively, strain the chicory really well before sautéing with garlic in olive oil.

Serve either side by side on a plate or mix the greens and pureed beans together, just remember to check seasoning and use lashing of good green oil. Embellishments are optional and include red onions marinated in vinegar, bread chunks, fried or pickled green peppers, steamed lampascioni, fried black or green olives, and other condiments.

Puglians really love their fava beans, so in the summertime pureed fava beans often appear with the classic Puglian stewed peppers with onion and tomato dish called pepperonata. The bitterness of the greens and the sweetness of the peppers cut through the creamy/nuttiness of the beans perfectly. So simple and yet so sublime.

This highlights the importance of pruning the trees well and regularly feeding them. It could be coincidence, but the damaged trees were either on land regularly poisoned with weedkiller or they were on abandoned land, where the trees are large and unwieldy. Abandoned trees become too dense at the top causing too much wind resistance.

The only damage we suffered was a rather large split in our three-year old mimosa tree. Finger’s crossed though, some rather swift action with some grafting paste, an old rag to bandage the wound and a haircut should save the tree.

One the subject of wind, we’re now into the fartichoke….er…artichoke season…

The artichokes, which grow so well here are the best I’ve ever tasted and Carciofo Brindisino (globe artichokes from the Brindisi region) recently received PGI (Protected Geographical Indication) status. Our Christmas visitors from London were astounded by the price of them in the market €2 for 10; apparently it’s more like 2 for 10 in the UK.

For Jane and Jules and anyone else who is interested, here is a little tutorial on preparing artichokes hearts to be used in a variety of recipes.

First wash your artichoke, then cut off the stem (you can still eat the stem, but not today we won’t).

Then cut the artichoke just below the halfway mark (you can cut it a wee bit higher but you run the risk of including inedible stringy bits in your finished dish).

Then break off the tough outer leaves (once again, don’t be shy to take off more than you think as you really don’t want any tough, scratchy bits remaining).

Next cut it into quarters. If there is no hairy heart pop them into water, which contains the juice of half a lemon to stop them turning black.

If there is a hairy choke, cut it out before popping it in the water. Smaller artichokes, when fresh, don’t always have a hairy choke.

Boil enough water to cover the artichoke hearts with the juice of the other half of lemon and pop the artichoke hearts in and boil for a few minutes if you are using small artichokes and about 10 minutes for larger ones.

Drain and leave to cool, before either popping under oil as anti-pasti (great for putting on pizzas and in salads too), dipping in batter and frying tempura style or chopping or using whole in any other recipes.

To serve whole, cut the tough tips of the leaves off with scissors, holding the stalk to keep the artichoke steady. Using a knife, slice the base off, so that it will sit upright, before trimming off the pointed top (the younger the artichoke, the less you’ll need to cut off). Pull the pale centre leaves out, and then scoop the choke out with a spoon, without disturbing the heart underneath.

As before, drop each one in a bowl of water to which lemon juice has been added. Cook them in a pan of boiling salted water for 35-45 minutes (when they’re ready you should easily be able to pull out a leaf). Drain upside down.

To eat pull the leaves off and dip them in hollandaise sauce, garlic mayo, melted butter or garlic butter etc, drawing the leaf through your teeth to remove the tender flesh before discarding the rest.

Monsoon-like rain seems a good enough excuse to get in the kitchen as any, so I’ve been preparing a few Christmas goodies. Christmas for us is a mixture of English and Italian, and as we have abundant supplies of both figs and almonds, I always make a figgy pudding. The recipe I use doesn’t need any suet, so it makes for a much lighter pudding, which I prefer. I’ve never been a fan of suet puddings (veggie or not) as I find them too cloying. Using butter makes for a lighter dish and no greasy film left in your mouth. If you don’t have any figs, you could use whatever combination of dried fruit you fancy.

Ingredients

8 oz butter
6oz brown sugar
2-3 eggs
4oz plain flour
generous pinch of salt
half-teaspoon nutmeg
half-teaspoon ground ginger
1 and half teaspoon mixed spice
2oz ground almonds
3oz finely grated carrot (or small apple chunks work well)
16 oz dried fruit I used about 8oz figs and a mix of currants sultanas, mixed peel and cherries for the rest
2oz chopped almonds
4oz breadcrumbs
grated rind and juice of one lemon
1tbsp treacle
4 tbsp of water mixed with either rum or brandy
butter for greasing bowl

Grease a two-pint pudding basin. Cream together butter and sugar, then whisk in beaten egg a little at a time. Sift flour, salt and spices on top of the butter mix. Add the remaining ingredients with enough boozy liquid to make a soft mixture, which will fall heavily from a spoon. Mix well. Spoon the mixture into the basin and cover with pleated greaseproof paper and then foil. Tie securely and place in large saucepan. Pour water until half way up sides of the basin. Bring to the boil and cover the pan and simmer gently for 4 hours (or two and half if you are using a pressure cooker). Check water level and top up with boiling water when necessary. Remove the pudding from the pan and store in a cool, dry place. Come Christmas, steam for three hours, or less, if using a pressure cooker, before flaming with brandy.

Luckily I had a generous spoonful leftover, so I made a mini pudding, which we greedily sampled.

I also experimented with some savoury biscuits to have with cheese over Christmas. They are a bit too rich for that but I reckon they’d be perfect for passing around with drinks.

Pesto biscuits

Ingredients

shortcrust pastry
2 or 3 tbsp pesto (I made regular basil pesto with added sun-dried tomatoes, but I reckon mint pesto would work just as well)
good handful of Parmesan or Pecorino cheese
some extra basil leaves
1 egg
seasoning

While the pastry is resting in the fridge make your pesto. Roll your pastry into a rectangle as thin as you can. Spread pesto all over, but leave about 1cm from the edge. Add some torn basil leaves and most of the cheese. Season and fold in half. Roll as thin as you can (some pesto will escape ) and then cut into shapes. Brush milk on top and then scatter the rest of the cheese on top and leave for around 10-mins before popping in a fairly hot oven for around 5-10-mins until they begin to brown and the cheese is bubbling.

Cool on a rack before scoffing with a festive tipple or two. Although these are only made with shortcrust pastry I reckon the oil in the pesto makes them a bit more melt-in-the-mouth.

While on the subject of drinks: no Christmas would be right without a good supply of limoncello, so I’ve got my freshly picked lemons peeled and the rind is currently steeping in a couple of bottles of alcool. They will remain infusing for a week before I strain the lemon peel and mix the lemony-boozy remains with some sugared water. For quantities I find a third of each is about right, providing the perfect kick and sweetness balance.

If you need inspiration to make your own booze and cordials for Christmas I’d thoroughly recommend Booze for Free by Andy Hamilton of self-sufficientish fame. If you pick up a copy now, you can still get some drinks ready before Christmas, alternatively it would make a great Christmas gift for anyone interested in home brewing.

Saluti !!

First, a few notes on last year’s olives. I’ve decided, after trying it quite a few years in a row, that I’m not a big fan of lye-curing. This seems to be the most popular method in Puglia as it’s both quick and effective. It works so effectively though that I can’t really taste the olives, although it does smell wonderfully Christmassy.

To be honest, I didn’t really see a great difference in the two brine-curing methods. They both tasted good and kept us in olives for the year, but they were, perhaps a little too salty for my taste (even after several water changes). It’s quite a balancing act between getting rid of the bitter oleuripenals, to reveal the taste of the fruit and not making them taste too salty.

Now, onto this year’s quest to find the perfect table olive, choosing several methods from the multitude, which have developed in olive-growing nations around the world.

Dry cure method
This is one of the more basic curing methods and just involves covering the olives in rock salt. Traditionally this would have been done in a hessian sack, basket or wooden box in which you cover the olives in salt and wait for the bitter juices to leak out. By shaking daily and adding a little more salt every few days the olives should be cured in around three or four weeks.

I’ve tried the same method in a glass jar. Alternate layers of olives with course rock salt and shake every day for three weeks, adding more salt to absorb juices. Once cured sufficiently, rinse, add warm water and 4 tablespoons of red wine vinegar to cover and top with a layer of olive oil. They will be ready to eat after 4-5 days. You can also store these in olive oil after you have rinsed the salt off after leaving them to drain until they are dry, so maybe I’ll try both methods when they are ready.

Water method 1
Cleaned olives are placed in a non-reactive bowl (terracotta, ceramic or glass) and covered in water. The water is changed daily for 10 days before the olives are jarred and covered in a brine solution (1 part salt to 10 parts water) until they are cured of their bitterness. As I glaze over at the mere mention of numbers, I used the floating egg method again (place your olives in jars and cover with sufficient water to allow you to pop something over them to ensure they remain submerged, strain the olives but keep adding salt to the water until an egg will float in it). I’ll change the brine solution when I remember (hopefully once a month) until they are ready.

Water method 2
Make a vertical cut or two down each olive using a sharp knife or prick them with a cocktail stick and place them in a brine solution (see above). Cover the bowl, ensuring that the olives are submerged.

Shake the bowl daily, changing the brine solution once a week. Start tasting olives for bitterness after week three but continue until necessary.

Once they taste good, remove the olives from the old brine. Make a new batch of brine, and fill jars with it. Put the olives in the jars, and top off the jars with four tablespoons red wine vinegar, and a tablespoon or so of olive oil. They should keep for a very long time if properly stored.

As a bonus, I’m hoping to use some of this solution to make dirty martinis with over the festive season. ☺

Water method 3
I’m using Fasole (or Pasole as they are known locally) olives for this method as they are little sweeter than other varieties so should cure slightly quicker (one month, rather than three) For every kilo of black olives use around 30g of salt. Place the olives in a container with the salt, and cover them with water and some sprigs of wild fennel and blueberry. Cover the pan (ensuring the olives are submerged) for one-three months changing the water every fortnight.

No-cure olives
Luckily for impatient olive-loving souls, such as myself, Puglia is famous for two even sweeter varieties of olives, which can be eaten without curing. Both Nolche, which are ready in September and Amelie, which are ready in October are sautéed, either on their own with salt or with any combination of garlic, chilli and chopped tomatoes. The salt helps rid the olives of any bitterness, but I prefer to fry them with garlic and tomatoes as well.

Just heat some olive oil in pan, add olives, salt and whatever else you wish and fry until the olives soften. These really are a taste sensation so if you ever get a chance to try some then I heartily recommend that you do. Each bite involves a burst of bitter/sweetness, which is quite heavenly. A friend told me you can even buy these olives in trendy London markets nowadays, so keep you eyes peeled for fresh sweet olives for sale.

So there you have my tale of bringing olives to the table. I’ll keep you posted on successes and failures.  In the meantime, we’ll be starting our olive harvest to make oil shortly as the olive mills open for the first time next week, so think nice weather thoughts everyone.

* An important note for all methods, which require that olives be submerged in liquid, place a weight on top of the olives to ensure that all the olives are submerged. I use plates when they are in a bowl and cut the bottoms off ricotta moulds to keep the under water when in jars.