Olives under pressure

 Today I had a mysterious caller whom I could not for the life of me understand.  He called back twice, and I pretended we were cut off because I was hoping it was a wrong number.  The same caller tried me a third time, and I finally figured out that it was Nonno Enrico!  For those of you who didn't follow our last adventures here, Nonno Enrico ("Grandpa Henry") is the man with the olive oil.

I had asked him last time I'd seen him to let me know when he'd be pressing his olives, because I wanted to see the mill and the process.  Today was a good day!

You understand that he speaks in a dialect, he's older, and it's really hard (for me) to speak Italian on the phone.  When I got off the phone, I wasn't really positive that I'd understood our transaction.  When I invited the children along, I presented it as follows:

I'm going on a field trip to see olives being pressed.

I don't know where the mill is.

I don't know how long it will take.

I don't know what's involved.

I don't even know for sure that I understood our conversation.

I only know that I'm meeting Nonno Enrico at 2:00 at his shop.

At which point, Florence chimed in brightly with, "You don't even know that!" With a laugh, I had to rephrase it as, "I only know that I'm going down to Nonno Enrico's shop at 2, and I might meet him there."

As luck would have it, I understood properly! And he was there! So we followed him down a road I'd not yet explored.  At the end of it was a metal shed; I parked where he gestured, and then walked around the shed to find Eleonora -- not my Eleanor, but the woman who works at the school supply store.  The folks at the school supply store and I are best buddies by now; that is to say, I have paid several months' worth of the electric bills, courtesy of school book lists.  And Eleonora has been very helpful the whole time, so it was a very pleasant surprise!

I wasn't sure what to expect, but I thought it would either be very high-tech or very ...ahem... rustic.  Let me tell you, they take their olives seriously here.  The process, while small scale, was pristine, finely controlled, and thoroughly delightful.

On the theory that a picture is worth a pile of description, I'll start my photo (and video) essay here, and will be quiet -- with the exception of explanatory captions.

Our welcoming sign

Nonno Enrico and his van

Olives!

Nonno Enrico and Jeremy feeling like strongmen.

Florence making them feel like weaklings.

Enrico's bin for this trip.

Bringing the olives to be weighed.

Olives on the scale

The scale and book.

The record book

First hopper! The rattle of olives was great.

Another view of the first hopper

I also have a video, but it's sideways (sorry):

A dead olive on the ground -- amazing how oily they really are!

This is a shaking conveyor belt that gets out the initial trash/sticks/leaves.

The leaves end up in the bin

Shaking olives

I have a video of them shaking:

Inside the production area (which is immaculate) -- first step: bathe the olives!

Conveyor belt feeding the olives to their bath.

Closeup of the belt.  The dams are made of wood...glued on?

Olives doing the backstroke

Olives swimming:

Out of the bath, into another hopper...which leads to the masher!

The masher.  The first chamber grinds the olives (unseen) and the bottom two  chambers mix the mush with water, where the mash is heated to 80 degrees Fahrenheit for an hour.  If you get close to the grille (below) the smell is rather pungent -- the aromatics are enough to give me an instant sinus headache.

The mixing chambers on video: 

The control panel ensuring the olives are kept at the right temperature.

The tag on the masher -- each person's olives are done separately.

Now the slurry is sent to the centrifuge (the first one), where the liquids and solids are separated. The machinery is made in Foligno, not far from Todi.

Jeremy and Florence inspecting the liquid coming off the first centrifuge.

Next centrifuge.  This separates the oil from the water.

A closer view of the second centrifuge.  Notice the higher spout on the right (oil) and the lower on the left (icky water and olive guck).

Liquid arriving from the first centrifuge.

Closeup of the liquid.  It really looks rather nasty.  The brown particles are olive guck.

This is the icky water...looks a wee bit worse than stagnant pond water.

Liquid emerging from the second centrifuge.  It really is a poison green -- quite astonishing.  The baffle further separates the oil from any remaining water.

Florence inspecting the oil.

Conveyor in the basement deposits the solids in a pitiful heap.

This regurgitated yuck is sent for hot-pressing and the subsequent poor-quality oil is used in processed foods (think crackers, "With Real Olive Oil!").

An amusing note -- amid all the rotating machinery & conveyor belts (not to mention forklifts!), the drink du jour in the break room is...wine.  One would think there had been miracles in this place: check out the water bottle -- you guessed it! There's wine in there, too!

There's the working fireplace in the corner.  When it gets colder, they'll do bruschetta with the fresh oil.  We've been invited back...Any bets on whether we'll go?

Jeremy, of course, found more machinery to inspect.  This is a seed distributor (and I don't know why I can't come up with the correct English word).

This is an amazing wooden seed sorter which is still used today.  It's spectacular.

Love,

Alexandra