An Obvious Relationship.

Esporao Olive Oil 

Drizzle, pour, fry, or simmer, It makes no difference. You know about the correlatives that take on a certain, if not indirect, human approach to eating well. Usually meaning, in some manner, there’s going to be good food associated with that most famous libation that serves as a culinary equal. Since biblical times, the serving of good wine was only outdone when there were better provisions, or when your assembly became too inebriated to know the difference between gluttony and parsimony. Over time, the chalices and the glasses began to appear as if they were filled to a near overflow, now brimming with the greener sentiments of winemakers and tree pruners alike. But what would happen If this junction between something verdant and powerfully carmine were to become popular enough? Could it prove to be a union that anyone could understand? Forget the utopian belief that there’s any duality, or any secondary dimension to this eating and drinking practice, because more so than ever, a new trifecta now offers something deliciously tangible. 

It doesn’t take even the simplest guess to know exactly why this almost tertiary part of our cooking projects has evaded our dinner table for so long. Well, enough vagary. All this is about, has to do with the practice of utilizing your olive oil in a way, to reflect the tender cares of the wine baron that makes it for you. Yes, you can actually peruse through your grocery store now to find not only what the winemaker is crushing, but what he, or she is cold-pressing. You may recall that it’s not uncommon for some who own vineyards, to also have a tree somewhere that can be plucked in order to create something with enough richness and green unctuousness to fortify soup, salad and red sauces alike. Not to say that wine cannot do the same, but there are striking gastronomic bounds for consumers to make; especially those who believe in producers that easily diversify between two things that can be complemented with similar adjectives. 

Frescobaldi Olive Oil

You’re probably wondering about the “Who?” and the “Where?” aspects of this post, and assuredly, I’m going to answer your questions. Ideally, the whole search really ends up being too easy if you’ve ever been to a Whole Foods market, or stepped-in to a gourmandize’s corner shop that excels in all things foreign. But what’s interesting and most easy to grasp, is that if you’ve ever seen a bottle of Frescobaldi Chianti, then you’re in luck, because the same quality that they reserve for the Sangiovese grape is nothing but a transport for the bottling of the most ubiquitous agent used in Italian cooking aside from tomatoes and garlic. If you’re not the type to agree with predictability, Portugal is quickly becoming a place where the marketing, distribution and overall consumption of wine and oil, is becoming more confluent. Like any of the reds, whites, or the irreplaceable vino verde, the interest in Portuguese products have wained, leaving the country to examine the potential successes of adding “Azeite” to their portfolio. If Monte Velho is something you can easily recall, then you would know there’s a red blend and an unblended sort of golden-greenery that each cost ten dollars and only require a little extra change. “Esporao” is a bit more familiar as the responsible producer, but it’s “Galega” olives are presented on your table side.   

What’s most striking, is the strict regard in which both Italy and Portugal have held their grapes and olives. The finished exports are expertly scrutinized well beyond recognized denominational practices, and continue to dominate our thinking when it comes to “good taste.” It’s sometimes hard to compare oil and wine, but there’s a nice similarity to the concept that one can work just as hard to bolster nuance from two different fruits that yield the same olfactory and gustatory sensations. One may not be as practical over the other, but with personal reasons dividing our potential excitement, who is to say that either is better? It’s like the Tea Vs. Coffee epidemic, but without the same need to polish-off a bottle of something labeled: “Extra-Virgin.” All I can say, is that the shelf-life of pressed olive pulp is evidently longer than the typical red, or white; which makes me wonder...How is it that we can mentally grasp spending ten-to-fifteen dollars on a cuvée that lasts forty-eight hours and never on something that can generate meals for an entire month?

Sorry olives, you’re just not equipped for instant gratification.

Brian Maniotis

Wine Warehouse Team

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