Casa da Carmine: Homage to the Olive

A bit ago, a friend - a kindred Italophile - pointed out something I'd never known - In olive groves, the centers of the trees are cut out to make room for sun to reach the rest of the tree. Ahhhh...sun seekers...like me!

I love olive trees. They're dramatic and expressive. They have personality and each seems to be a different character. Several years ago I used the image a 500-year old tree as the centerpiece for the set of a production of "The Crucible" I directed. It was deformed, dark, commanding, and scary as hell.

Here in the Fino Valley, there used to be 11 frantoi - mills that crushed the olives to make oil. Few remain, but the tradition and importance of olive growing, gathering, and pressing is strong. Both Virgil and Ovid (our Abruzzese native son) wrote about the "olivacolture" here. The pressing of the olives is referred to as "transforming" the olive. Indeed!

Olive trees are both sacred and mundane. Like the buffalo of US first peoples, everything is used. There is the olive itself. A "paesani" recently gave me a jar of them preserved in brine. When I told him how much I enjoyed them, he came to my door and presented me with two more jars!

When the branches are pruned, they are left on the ground to fertilize it. They're also burned to smudge the trees to protect it from freezes.

The wood is hard, dense, and non-porous. It's fashioned into spoons, bowls, washboards, axe handles - even, at one time, pistol grips.

The pits can be burned as fuel for heating and cooking.

Then, of course, there is - THE OIL! Oh, the glorious look and taste of fresh pressed virgin olive oil! The pungent, peppery taste that enhances everything from bread to pasta, to grilled vegetables. The pressing of the oil is a community event. Many hands are needed to shake olives down from trees, carry them to the olive presses, press and conserve the oil. It was and still is a time for gathering of friends and neighbors - and all-hands-on-deck activity that has a very short window of opportunity. Usually it takes place anywhere from late September to early November, depending on the weather. It often coincides with all saints' day - Olgnisanti" It signals the last physically demanding work of the farmer. It's a short window of time. A lot rides on getting the timing just right for optimal taste and volume of the olive. So - when everything aligns right - it calls for a party. What's a party without good food, especially from the recently pressed oil! One of the foods is "spaghetti alla trappitarra" so named for the "trappa" - a part of the olive press. It's thin pasta with olive oil, hot peppers, and garlic. Simple, but oh so tasty! Tradition says that a person who heads into winter with "una buona corta (a good supply)" of olive oil is a "persona perbene" - in decent shape.

But besides the practical uses of the olive tree, it holds many sacred and ritual aspects.

I'm told that "i primi potatori" - the first to prune the trees - make the sign of the cross before the first cut.

Of course, who hasn't heard of offering an olive branch as a peace symbol? In fact, the UN flag, created in 1946, used two olive branches aside a world map.

Jesus descended from the Mount of the Olives to make his triumphant entrance into Jerusalem. The word "Gethsemane" is said to derive from the word "es-shemen" - tree of oil, further derived from a Hebrew word root meaning "to shine". Oh, boy, do olive trees shine! Even on this late January day, as I write this, I can look out and see olive trees in full leaf. When the sun is out, they glint silver. Through the shortened days of this winter, they remind me that all is NOT barren. There is always the promise of life.

The oil has been used to anoint kings, prophets, and high priests. It's said to have antibacterial properties so it's used in pharmaceuticals. My grandma told me that warm olive oil could be dripped into your ear to treat earaches. I took her word for it, but never tried it. The oil is used in soap and cosmetics, and, at one time, for lighting.

For me, though, the major symbol of those imposing trees is one of resilience and hope. The olive tree is a marvel of persistence and hardiness. A tree can live 1,000 years. It survives in poor, stony soil. Even when destroyed by disease, drought, frost, or fire, it is capable of regenerating itself.

“I’ll Be Back”

The olive trees I pass on my run down the country road are my boon companions. As I jog or huff and puff past them, I see them, paused in graceful dance poses or manifesting their unique personalities. They speak to me, encourage me, inspire me. Sometimes they amuse me. They remind me to keep going or to do or be something - anything my mind can imagine - when the workout is done.