San Francisco Magazine
December 2009
There are times when Bay Area renditions of traditional European foods make me pine for the old country. Aioli is not mayonnaise with chopped garlic thrown in; properly cooked confit should not shred like carnitas; and watery mashed potatoes topped with melted cheese should never bear the moniker aligot. But sometimes we get it right: Like in December, when local markets fill their shelves with Tuscan-inspired, just pressed local olive oils.
New olive oil, called olio nuovo in Italian, is an important tradition in Tuscany, where the newly pressed oil is used immediately on, well, everything. New oils can be stunning—green, vibrant, intensely peppery. The fall olive harvest marks the end of the region’s growing season, and dinners and festivals featuring the oil are held throughout Tuscany to celebrate the last bounty of summer.
Olive trees are not new to California either; The first ones were planted by missionaries who settled here in the 18th century. Those original trees were later joined by a variety of cultivars, and by the late 1800s, California was producing world-class olive oils. But the local industry collapsed in the early 20th century, when Italy flooded the California market with inexpensive products. Over time, many of the local groves were torn out, and production shifted to black, ripe, “table” olives—a misnomer, given that most of them were destined to be sliced into the black, flavorless, washer-like rings commonly found in salad bars and on commercial pizzas.
In the early 1990s, however, the California olive-oil industry began to change. A few small producers, determined to make oil that rivaled the best in the world, found a supportive clientele in our increasingly savvy and Eurocentric local food culture. Bruce Cohn, the manager of the Doobie Brothers, makes excellent (albeit astonishingly pricey) oil from the picholine trees on his winery property, which sells out as quickly as it is made. Ridgely Evers, co-owner of DaVero, brought in trees from Italy to make delicious Tuscan-style oil. And on a vast estate nestled into the rolling hills west of Petaluma, Nan McEvoy began producing oil that many now consider the finest made in California.
McEvoy originally bought a 550-acre property in 1990 as a vacation home, but soon discovered that strict zoning laws required her to use the property for an agricultural purpose. Inspired by Feast of the Olive, a book by Oliveto co-owner Maggie Blyth Klein, and by her own love of Tuscan cuisine, McEvoy hired Italian olive-oil consultant Maurizio Castelli to create an estate oil. The initial 100 Italian olive trees they brought in grew to more than 18,000, and today, they run a nursery that sells young trees grown from their cuttings. The ranch also imported state-of-the-art Italian crushing equipment. McEvoy’s operation employs both traditional stones and a sinolea press, which uses slow-moving metal blades that dip into the olive paste to extract their oil.
New olive oil is one of the great joys of late fall, as fleeting and intense as the fading sunlight. New oils are expensive, but do not confuse them with fine wines: Because the sediment has not settled, the shelf life for these oils is a few months at most. They should be used quickly after being opened, and with abandon—on vegetables, salads, soups, beans, crostini, and even as a sauce for meat (especially braised) or fish. What you should not do with new olive oil is cook it, which will destroy the qualities that make it special. Use it only as a finishing sauce, and the simpler the accompaniments, the better.
Our local oils have yet to surpass the best Italian ones, although if global warming in Europe keeps up, that may change (excessively dry, hot summers do not produce profound oils). If you’d like to compare production here are some of the highest quality that Italy has to offer, the Rare Wine Company, in Sonoma, brings in a well-chosen selection of Italian oils every year.
New olive oil has a primal, dominant flavor that requires no recipe. But for a local take on a Tuscan classic, you can cook dried beans in vegetable or chicken stock with chopped carrots, onions, fennel, and any other vegetables you can lay your hands on. Simmer until the beans are tender. Season the mixture with black pepper and perhaps some parsley, ladle it into bowls, and douse it with new olive oil. Serve with grilled bread rubbed with a garlic clove—and feel thankful for the harvest, for our Mediterranean climate, and for a few people who are taking the best European traditions and making them our own.
