Buying olive oil at midnight
and the sweetest supper hosted under a canopy of Pugliese olive trees
We were driving south on the Autostrade when I remembered we had wanted to book an olive grove tour. We were interested in spending time with one of the most ubiquitous features of the Puglia region. Olive trees stretch for miles in literally every direction, and being an individual who is quite obsessed with this fruit, I was excited.
We had left Tuscany that morning, embarking on the second half of our Italian adventure. A few weeks before leaving the states, we had found an olive farm that looked stunning and hosted regular visits. But when I went to book the visit, I was met with a message from the owner. They were not hosting tours, however, they were hosting a new supper series that they were very excited about. This would be their second one, ever. We would enjoy local wine, food made by chefs based in Lecce, and meet new friends around an intimate table. We didn’t need much more convincing.
We arrived just around golden hour—exiting the highway to be met by long rural dirt roads so narrow that the tall grasses fanning the road’s shoulder brushed against both sides of our vehicle. We laughed, praying that no car would come in the opposite direction. As we got closer to the farm, the landscape began to transform. Olive trees with burly winding trunks and sage-colored leaves filled the creamsicle skies. The dirt was a beautiful rust color, with occasional wrinkled olives scattered on its surface. I heard a familiar chirping sound, and opened the windows, smelling the air. “Cicadas” I realized aloud. We had just had a cicada emergence in the summer of 2021 in DC and I laughed remembering how frightening these prehistoric-looking bugs are to me. We slowed, fully engulfed by olive trees, now with a deafening chourus of the bugs. Suddenly, I felt my body lurch forward, as I simultaneously heard the dreadful clicking sound of those huge cicada wings batting and landing. Screaming, I realized it was IN the car. Dan had slammed on the brakes, and I flailed about trying to usher it out of the car without it landing on me. I went from fear to laughter, and then laughed even harder when I realized that we had arrived at the masseria. Arianna and David, our hosts, must have certainly heard my screams but when they came to greet us at our car they said that they heard nothing. I thank them for their kindness.
We were shown around the property, learning about its history. This farm, which has belonged to Arianna’s family since the 1800’s, originally grew fruits and vegetables. The farmers lived in the masseria house that is still intact today, and Arianna and David have plans to reinforce it’s interiors and offer lodging for future travelers. Now, the farm grows olives and native grapes. We walked the fields (the cicadas still going strong, mind you) and met 150-year-old olive trees. We learned about the Negroamaro grape, native to the region of Puglia, and had the privilege of trying it in the form of a sparkling wine. We visited the masseria’s chapel—every masseria has one, and this one must have hosted countless weddings, baptisms, and Sunday services. Last year, Arianna and David deicded to get married on this property and had their ceremony on the grounds with Arianna’s ancestors as witnesses. This farm truly is magical, and we felt privileged to be on its historic grounds.
We played a round of bocce holding out for the sun to fully set for dinner. And once the skies cooled into night, we were led to a cozy table set with beautiful antique ceramics underneath a canopy of olive trees and stars. We were treated to more delicious wines and a very simple, traditional meal of parmagianna, lots of fresh olive oil, of course, orecchiette with pesto and tomatoes, and a tart that we each dressed with cream and freshly picked apricots, gifted that week to Arianna and David from the farmer down the road. The evening finished with a special tasting of Arianna’s great grandfather’s brandy—a bottle that had been made in the 1950s and has been aging ever since.
Although the entire evening was truly spectacular, my favorite part came after the supper had concluded. The other dinner guests had left, and our chefs slid into their vacant seats. Smoke from hand-rolled cigarettes plumed upwards into the inky sky, and we spent another hour chatting with our new friends. We listened as they told us about the “maritatti” pasta dish—made with both the orecchiette (female, or little ears) and minchiareddhi (male, or tiny penises), why pasticchiotto is only the best if made (and eaten) in Lecce, and how true Pugliese know to check the wind’s direction before choosing which shores to bathe in. And although we were just getting to know one another, that hour felt like time spent with old friends. It reminded me of my college shabbat dinners when my friends and I would sit at the table for hours after our food was finished picking at tea cakes and enjoying eachother’s company.
When we realized it was just before midnight we gathered our things to leave. Arianna walked us to our car and, ashamed of how late it was, I timidly asked her if we could buy some olive oil. With pleasure, she led us into a room with shelves of her oils. On a table in the center of the room was a bowl of those gorgeous, gifted apricots, and on the far wall a window, that instantly brewed a feeling of familiarity in my gut. It was framed with light lace curtains that softly undulated in the night breeze, and it brought me back to my grandmother’s home in the summertime. I could almost hear the clinking of the spoon as she stirred chocolate powder into a glass of milk for me before I went to bed. Ari packed up our parcel filled with delicious oils and we hugged, knowing that we’d meet again.
When we returned to the states, Dan and I opened up a bottle of their Peranzana oil, dipping bread into it. Upon first bite I was transported right back to that table, nestled underneath the Pugliese olive trees and surrounded by wonderful new friends.
A SPECIAL SURPRISE: I am doing something exciting. I will be ordering a box of Ari’s incredible olive oil to the states and would be thrilled to share it with you all. The cost of shipping is quite high for single orders, and so, I thought, if enough of us are interested we can enjoy this oil together. I will be getting a box of tins, 0.25L in size. They will be $18 a piece (+shipping). This oil is zippy, a little spicy, and just the right bit fruity. I absolutely adore it and have been showering all of my greens and breads in it. Shoot me a note back to this newsletter if you’d like to reserve a bottle, and if we make it to 30 units (or more), I’ll place the order! xx