First, there’s the olive tree, a long-lasting monument. It’s an ancient tree: just looking at it, the rustling of its leaves carries the Mediterranean within.
Then comes the fruit, the olive, with its crispness.
And finally, the oil: fragrant and noble, generous with fish and meat, and with vegetables from a rediscovered garden.
I’ve planted many olive trees and continue to plant them. I grow them stubbornly, as is my nature. I chose the Bianchera, Gorgazzo, and Savorgnana cultivars, which have adapted excellently to this land where the north and north-east winds constantly alternate with warmer air from the Adriatic.
These healthy, gnarled, and proud olive trees now form an important part of my landscape, alongside the vines. Working them is hard, given their slow growth, the endless waiting, and the constant uncertainty of the climate. But cultivating olives and watching them grow is an ancient gesture: you have to really love and live the oil.
That’s why I say I olive it.