by Rhiannon Rees - Nibbana Healing Spa Whistler - copyright Whistler Question
Now, Olive oil, how could you have a love affair with Olive oil?? (it is healthy right??? isn't it??)……Let me take you on a journey of the soul, a journey of passion and desire….all in 400 words. Quite the feat right. Let’s see how we go.
Some 6000 years ago the first olive trees were grown in the Mediterranean, the eastern part. It took only a few more years (a couple of thousand or so) to reach Italy. During that period, olive trees grew in Crete, Greeks and Phoenicians traded the oil across the seas to Spain and what is Morocco today. Spain, Southern France, Italy and Sicily planted olive trees.
Olive oil is low in oleic fatty acid, high in anti-oxidants, high in monosaturated fats and is simply good for you.
The Romans used warm, perfumed oil to massage weary centurions, anoint alert virgins before the wedding, dribble it on a baby’s head to appease the various gods and burn it in lamps to brighten rooms. It was used as a cleaner, to soften leather, to season wooden barrels and to flavour food.
A few years ago I went on a cruise to Italy where an Italian engineer took a real interest in me. A little compact powerhouse of a man with dark brooding good looks, smooth thick hair, black eyes half closed and gleaming with anticipation. When he spoke to me in Italian, I felt stroked all over, as if he was making love to me. Every word in that deep slow voice was a caress, almost. The afternoon was warm, the countryside mellow and the air soft and brushing my face as gently as his words.
He took me to a small restaurant amongst the hills outside Rome. Scattered bare wooden tables, bleached umbrellas leaning into the faint breeze. Old trees with gnarled branches against the faint pink evening sky.
The padrone came over, a bottle of red wine in one hand and a jar of locally produced olive oil in the other. More Italian was spoken with rapid hand movements and quick glances cast at me. A proprietary arm around my shoulder and understanding smiles between the two men. I was so enjoying myself.
We dribbled this slightly greenish oil with it’s strong nutty flavour onto chunks of fresh bread, some coarse salt sprinkled over, a slice or two of ripe red tomatoes , and I was in love. Truly I was.
He stroked my hair as a little olive oil escaped down my chin. With his finger, he brushed it away, a quick touch of soft lips and then he nonchalantly rested his hand on my knee. Olive oil on fresh salad slightly bitter, tomatoes which tasted red and ripe, salami made from donkey’s meat, soft goat’s cheese ladled from a small wooden barrel and the heavy perfume of garlic in the air. I was in love.