by M.R Vavala

Created on: April 29, 2008

When I hear olive oil, I remember my Grandfather, and his infinite love of it. You always knew when he was coming over for dinner, as there would be my mother- arguing, yes; quite literally arguing, with the oil can as she poured it in a saucepan in preparation for her ragu, or napoletana, or whatever sauce she was making for dinner. Hesitantly she would pour, then look, then pour some more, and without fail my Grandfather would always comment, on how delicious the pasta was- however, it could always have done with a little more olive oil. She, in turn- would roll her eyes and look up at the ceiling, for some divine presence to give her consolation.

For my Grandfather, if every strand of spaghetti, fettuccine, bucatini, or whatever form of pasta that was for dinner that evening, was not entirely covered in the velvety syrup of oil-he was not content. Mum argued that it was not good for him, and that it would clog his arteries, and thus- he would have a heart attack and die. And- no, she did not want that on her conscience. To this, my Grandfather would reply- that the only reason why he would have a heart attack and die, would be for the fact that there was not enough olive oil in the sauce- which would make the pasta that dry, that it would stick to the back of his throat- causing him to choke and die! A little melodramatic to say the least, but gosh what a laugh at the dinner table.

In her defence, my mother although just as Italian as my Grandfather, was not, and is not that liberal with olive oil. Hers, is a discreet, and very subtle relationship with the said product. "It is used to flavour- subtlety." She insists. "You should never just be able to taste the oil. It should infuse, and accentuate all the ingredients used in your dish. It should not be the only flavour you can taste." And, so with added emphasis- she cringes when she watches these so called "Italian" cooking shows- where the host has prepared a beautiful dish, that already has olive oil in it, and then right before serving- drowns, yes drowns, not drizzles the entire thing in more olive oil. She disputes the fact of it's authenticity, as she does not ever recall her mother, her Grandmother, or anyone else she had ever known back in her home town doing such a thing. I laugh and tell her, it's all about fads, and fashion- and that currently, olive oil is the hip new thing! She shrugs me off with a wave of her hand, and a few unmentionables in Italian.

Which brings me to me, and my methods of use with olive oil. Being hip, and young and quite daring- I do the posh thing when serving dinner guests, and have a small bowl with some very expensive, olive oil and crusty bread beside it, inviting guests to enjoy their antipasto, as my mother- should she be presents, looks at me, cringes and then insists that my guests try her homemade salami that have been cured in- of course, olive oil. She tells them that the oil will only succeed in filling their tummy's and make them feel ill, and that her salami would go much more splendidly with the crusty bread, than of course, the olive oil. 9 times out of 10, the salami thing works- but I shall give myself some credit here- if I have infused the oil before hand with hot chilli flakes, the oil is quite as popular, as mums salami's.

Oh, and the thing about filling your tummy? Hmmm...questionable. I prefer the subtlety in suggesting- that it may give you better digestion, if you know what I mean...

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