I used to hate olives. They were vile. Infact they were so fucking vile they were one of those foods I couldn't even swallow in haste in a bid to get rid of the vileness but had to instead spit out before the gagging set in.
Every few years I'd have another go in a desperate attempt to join the cool crowd but I kept having the same gut churning response. Back in the day, get-togethers were lonely dining experiences - unfortunately I seemed to have acquired friends who all thought you could be satiated sufficiently with a couple of bowls of olives and a few anti pasta dishes (my evenings still contained nuts - sophisticate I was not!) I used to crave home-time when I could feed my empty stomach on wheetabix or toast.
What were they tasting that I wasn't? It wasn't like, oh I don't know, - peanut butter, where distastes go unnoticed. If you don't like beetroot it isn't commented on! Eyebrows aren't raised, knowing looks aren't shared or judgements passed.
Olives are things that people salivate over, people enthuse when olives are put before them. They are things of passion. Olives bring people together with a warmth and shared love.
I used to sit in uncomprehending silence while the rest of the group had in depth conversations; their mutual appreciation left me feeling as if I was missing out but more importantly, as if I was somehow 'less....' , not as good....
I suppose it's the equivalent of thinking you're quite well read on joining a book club; you read a couple of books a month, you've read quite a few of the English classics (not all in school time) and loads of best sellers while on holiday but then you find yourself in a group discussing Dostoevsky, Emile Zola or Voltaire and Chekhov and suddenly you're feeling slightly inferior, a little simple, a bit green.
So what changed? When did I have my epiphany? Was it a knock on the head or just pure determination in order to feel part of the crowd?
I just had an olive one day and I liked it, simple as that. I remember that first enjoyable olive was in the context of a large celebratory meal, with good wine and other good food. I was extremely hungry and the wine was flowing so in desperation I reached out and 'hmmm'. So I had another go and it was ok.
Maybe you have to eat your first olive in the context it was originally designed to be eaten in to fully appreciate it's unique salty flesh? I vaguely remember I ate the whole bowl in increasing wonderment but also in silence - after all I was still new at this; I wasn't sure if they were good olives or not and therefore how much to enthuse!
My second olive experience was on my first ever holiday abroad - a couple of years ago now (but not that many - I was only just on the young side of 40). And that's when it finally all fell into place. All I had ever needed was to experience the olive in it's home setting where it was king and this was where it finally made it's mark, became forever part of my psyche by entwining itself in my heart.
Olives now are not only tiny bursts of salty wonderment they are tiny vessels that instantly transport me back to warmer climes and happy memories.
And yes I have been known to get giddy when olives appear unexpectedly before me and yes I have been heard passing what sounds like expert judgement on their taste, texture, etc etc - all of which is a ball of cock as one my my favourite olives is still the cheapest super-saver type from the local superstore rather than than the lovingly stuffed queen Greek whatever from the expensive executive type deli.
I just really really like olives now and can and am as passionate as all the other olive lovers out there.
Every few years I'd have another go in a desperate attempt to join the cool crowd but I kept having the same gut churning response. Back in the day, get-togethers were lonely dining experiences - unfortunately I seemed to have acquired friends who all thought you could be satiated sufficiently with a couple of bowls of olives and a few anti pasta dishes (my evenings still contained nuts - sophisticate I was not!) I used to crave home-time when I could feed my empty stomach on wheetabix or toast.
What were they tasting that I wasn't? It wasn't like, oh I don't know, - peanut butter, where distastes go unnoticed. If you don't like beetroot it isn't commented on! Eyebrows aren't raised, knowing looks aren't shared or judgements passed.
Olives are things that people salivate over, people enthuse when olives are put before them. They are things of passion. Olives bring people together with a warmth and shared love.
I used to sit in uncomprehending silence while the rest of the group had in depth conversations; their mutual appreciation left me feeling as if I was missing out but more importantly, as if I was somehow 'less....' , not as good....
I suppose it's the equivalent of thinking you're quite well read on joining a book club; you read a couple of books a month, you've read quite a few of the English classics (not all in school time) and loads of best sellers while on holiday but then you find yourself in a group discussing Dostoevsky, Emile Zola or Voltaire and Chekhov and suddenly you're feeling slightly inferior, a little simple, a bit green.
So what changed? When did I have my epiphany? Was it a knock on the head or just pure determination in order to feel part of the crowd?
I just had an olive one day and I liked it, simple as that. I remember that first enjoyable olive was in the context of a large celebratory meal, with good wine and other good food. I was extremely hungry and the wine was flowing so in desperation I reached out and 'hmmm'. So I had another go and it was ok.
Maybe you have to eat your first olive in the context it was originally designed to be eaten in to fully appreciate it's unique salty flesh? I vaguely remember I ate the whole bowl in increasing wonderment but also in silence - after all I was still new at this; I wasn't sure if they were good olives or not and therefore how much to enthuse!
My second olive experience was on my first ever holiday abroad - a couple of years ago now (but not that many - I was only just on the young side of 40). And that's when it finally all fell into place. All I had ever needed was to experience the olive in it's home setting where it was king and this was where it finally made it's mark, became forever part of my psyche by entwining itself in my heart.
Olives now are not only tiny bursts of salty wonderment they are tiny vessels that instantly transport me back to warmer climes and happy memories.
And yes I have been known to get giddy when olives appear unexpectedly before me and yes I have been heard passing what sounds like expert judgement on their taste, texture, etc etc - all of which is a ball of cock as one my my favourite olives is still the cheapest super-saver type from the local superstore rather than than the lovingly stuffed queen Greek whatever from the expensive executive type deli.
I just really really like olives now and can and am as passionate as all the other olive lovers out there.
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