A Blog from Greece – Life at The Lemon Tree on Crete                         

We are nearing the end of the olive picking season now but from late November through to the end of January (and perhaps a bit either way) you will see evidence of olive picking at work as you go up and down the mountain. Crates are piled high in the villages and at the olive factories. Vans are parked by the side of olive groves, netting is spread out into the roads to catch falling olives and you can hear the hum of the machinery at work.

You will see little olives everywhere you go, that have escaped from vans (I’m free!) or fallen far from the reach of the nets. It is also a time to be careful on the roads as the combination of the remnants of olives on tarmac and the rain can make for a slippery road.

The weekend was here, it was a fine and dandy day, the sun was blasting through and despite it being early January it was fairly warm. Sitting having our weekend coffee and breakfast, we heard our gate scrape the ground, it always good to have a device like this to tell you if anyone is coming in. It was Manolis, our neighbour. He was carrying a bag of eggs for us from his chickens; he has the best eggs around. He said that he was going olive picking with his friend Anthony at his olive grove and asked if I would like to come along and pick a tub of olives. Of course I accepted with open arms; who could turn down an offer of picking olives on such a fine day? Not only was it ideal to do before the season started in the restaurant where I would be using olives daily but it was also good exercise and a lovely bonding thing to do; to be included in the Greek culture of it all.

There was a blue and white sky above which was a pleasant change as it had been pouring down for the last few days; winds and rain bashing against the shutters, water seeping in through the odd crack and thunder booming overhead. We had not really been able to get outside for a while, let alone stand and admire the new day so this was an ideal opportunity to get out. As soon as the weather changes on the plateau there is a hive of activity as vans and cars are organised to go and pick olives whilst the weather is good.
We were to meet in 15 minutes in the car park and I would follow him in my car there. The village was awake and people were about doing their programme, some were shopping, some were sitting having a coffee at the kafenion.
We made our way out of the village and the green fields took the backdrop whilst the green peaky mountains stood up happy in the sky; stones that had many silent secrets to tell. As we drove out of the village we made our way up a stony track, wobbling up and down on the stones; I paid particular attention not to go too fast and be careful more than usual, trying not to damage the bottom of the car in these circumstances. Manolis did not worry too much in his big jeep.

Anthony was just walking into the olive grove when we arrived, we said morning and he showed me his trees. The olives hung on the tree like little dark cherries as soft as mango. They were the small variety and I knew from experience that these were quite delicate and wonderful. I have found all the olives on the island to be delightful but these would be exceptional; magnificent either by themselves or with a meal or to dip into whenever you wanted.

Manolis told me to help myself and start picking wherever I wanted and to fill my bucket. They went off to get their generator and strimming tools. Each olive picker has one of these; they are like mowers on sticks and are attached to the generator so that they spin round at great speed. They are put into the heavily laden branches of the tree and as they turn they snatch the olives from the branches and scatter them onto nets underneath the tree. It is essential that the nets are spread out under the trees to catching the falling and spinning olives. You will also find in the olive picking season a number of causalities from this work, particularly from the flying olives that can cause severe eye injury; goggles are often worn to prevent this.
I was reverting to older methods and was picking by hand; at home we have an old wooden stick with a little hook over the end (much like a walking stick) that hangs in the restaurant and is instantly recognised by anyone Greek as an old stick traditionally used in olive picking to hook down the branches to pick the olives more easily. I of course, had not thought to bring this and indeed had to be sent back to the house when I first arrived at the car park to get my bucket!

Luckily there were many branches low enough for me to pick from. I walked up and down the trees and picked from the branches, they were full of the little dark red fruits ready for me to pick. I pulled them off through my hands thinking that these would make good hand cream no doubt; it was very therapeutic and very lovely to do. The sun was out and it was wonderful. The olives bounced as they hit the hard bottom of the bucket, this soon ended when it began to fill. It took quite a long time but it started to fill steadily. I was no olive picker and admired the people going out in all conditions picking them all day in the cold and wondered what they felt like at the end of the day. I had been picking for an hour and my bucket was half full; it was quite hard work and I was really beginning to feel my back and arms were aching but I had to pick a bucket before I could go! My bucket was checked before I left to see if I could fit anymore in and was told to carry on picking on several occasions. When it was full I thanked Anthony and Manolis for the pleasure and kindness of picking with them and came home to a nice cup of coffee and sandwich. The weather was beginning to turn and the cold clouds had filled the sky. They would carry on until the afternoon through it.

At home I sorted the olives out, I took all the leaves out and the little bits of stem that were left in them; in the olive groves the contents of the nets are collected and taken to the olive oil factory where it is put through a processor.  I washed off the olives and left them in cold water; they needed to be washed off daily for two weeks. After this they would be placed in a brine solution and in a few weeks would be ready to eat, in salads or to use as meze. A lovely treat awaited us all; cannot wait.   

I look forward to scattering these lovely little olives on the Greek salads I will be serving in the summer and it will be lovely to think in the middle of the heat of the summer days back to the morning I spent olive picking at the start of the year. This year we will be selling home cured olives in Handras olive oil with herbs from the plateau; a little bottle from the Crete mountains.

For previous blog articles please click on the link at the bottom of the ‘blog page’ and if you are searching for a particular food recipe such as curry or food ingredient such as cabbage  – then type in the keyword in the search box on the website and Hey Presto! This will bring up the recipes that contain this ingredient.

We write the blogs together; mostly the food stuff is Mark and some of the other bits are Anita or what we come to through general chat (or heated discussion, depending on the day….) Mark is dyslexic - he writes a first draft, hands it over to Anita (who puts on her old English teacher’s hat) to redraft and develop, adding a bit here and there; this seems to work!

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