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Our VW bus almost didn't make the way to Antonio's olive grove.
The paths that cross the Gargano, the spur of the Italian boot, off the coast are too steep.
Despite all-wheel drive, the uphill is painfully slow, while many locals overtake pandas at breakneck speed in their Fiat.
Braking is not a good idea, you would probably not get anywhere at all.
So let's do it like the Italians: keep on the gas, honk at every bend and pray that nobody comes across.
On the beach of Mattinata we got to know Antonio and Matteo, olive farmers and real Puglies.
In typical hospitality, Antonio invited us to visit his olive plantation.
There is always a lot to do there: harvest from October to January.
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February is the time for the skilful pruning of branches: all fresh shoots that grow inwards or sprout from the trunks are removed so that the crowns remain light, as with fruit trees.
The grape-like panicles bud in March and bloom in May.
By the way, bees find the white olive blossoms uninteresting as they are only pollinated by the wind.
A lesson in the olive harvest in Puglia
Antonio's olive grove is just big enough that he and his best friend Matteo can cultivate it.
“We do everything by hand,” he explains.
The only tool for harvesting is an electric picking aid that shakes the olives off the branch.
This device, which Matteo calls “Abbacchiatore” (translated as “shaker”), leans against a gnarled olive tree and looks like an oversized garden rake.
Once the
Abbacchiatore has shaken
the ripe olives from the tree, they fall into nets stretched underneath, which Antonio and Matteo
gather
and bring to the sorting station: a large table with a grid on which Antonio distributes the contents of the nets.
The olives fall through the grid, larger leaves and branches get caught.
A simple, ancient system.
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The sorting station is on the terrace of the small, white house.
“We often sit here in the evenings in summer,” he says.
The olive plantation stretches out in steps around the house, the bay of Mattinata lies a few hundred meters below.
“It's best to see them from the roof,” advises the owner, leaning a ladder against the wall.
We are already on Antonio's roof, with an Aperol Spritz in our hands and a fantastic view of the sea and the mountains.
View of olive trees and Mattinata Bay
Source: pa / Photononstop / Danièle Schneider
Antonio grew up and went to school in Germany, but returned to Apulia a few years ago.
In the summer months he usually works in tourism, from autumn to spring he looks after the olive grove that he took over from his father.
His friend Matteo explains to us what makes a good olive oil: “Centrifugato!” The secret is centrifuged, not pressed.
Because when pressing it can happen that remnants of an inferior tranche remain and spoil your own good oil.
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We promise to pay attention to this when buying olive oil in the future.
We leave Antonio's plantation with a large canister of centrifuged olive oil.
At our pitch on the mountainside we can hear the rattling and shaking of the
Abbacchiatori
until late in the evening
.
The author blogs about her experiences on thehappyroad.de.