Wordless Wednesday: Harvest

So Close Yet A World Away: Discovering Corfu

Monastery bells

My blog has been silent this month since we spent this past week in Corfu, Greece exploring the island, immersing ourselves in Greek food and culture, and simply relaxing.  We had been wanting to visit Corfu and the opportunity to do so arose when the military attache association here in Tirana, under the guidance of the Greek attache who is a native of Corfu, decided to organize a trip to the island.  Group trips make me a bit apprehensive and as we set off I wasn't sure what to expect but I can clearly say now that the trip was amazing and I loved every moment of my Greek island adventure.

This northern most Greek island in the Ionian Sea is just 18 miles from the shore of the southern Albanian city of Sarande, but being there felt like it was a world away from our temporary home.  Whereas Albania feels arid and brown Corfu is incredibly lush and green.  Locals complained about the condition of the roads and infrastructure but from what we saw, it is light years ahead of those in Albania.  Greece may be in the midst of an economic crisis but we saw little evidence of this as we mingled amongst other throngs of tourists.  Multi-million dollar yachts floated in aquamarine coves, shops were bustling, and it felt as though the entire island was open for business.  In fact, this island's economy is heavily driven by tourism and from the restaurants and shops to historic sites, everyone we encountered was warm, welcoming, and hospitable.  Since Corfu is in the heart of the Mediterranean I was already familiar with the meats, cheeses, vegetables, and olives for which the region is famous. What I didn't know was that Corfu is most well known for her hundreds of thousands of olive trees that cover most of the island.  In addition to the cured olives and olive oil that we readily sampled, olive wood products were readily available for purchase.  (And yes, we also brought home a few of these beautifully marbled souvenirs).

Monastery entryway

So what did we do while there; we played tourist of course!  Under the knowledgable expertise of a local tour guide we toured the UNESCO designated Old Fortress of Corfu Town and meandered through the maze of streets in the city's pedestrian zone.  We explored monasteries dating back to the 1200s, toured the Achillion Palace which was once home to Elizabeth, the Empress of Austria and Queen of Hungary, frolicked in the crystal waters off of Paleokastrisa, and took in the sweeping views from the top of some of Corfu's highest peaks.  (We also spent an amazing day island hopping between Corfu and neighboring islands but that is a post for another day).  We enjoyed long leisurely meals of local specialties overlooking the ocean and discovered some really good Greek wines.  And as is the case with any good get-away, we also had plenty of time on our own to explore the island or to do absolutely nothing.  Sidney loved wandering through the pedestrian friendly streets of the old city, wading along the beach and throwing rocks into the water, and watching airplanes take off and land from the nearby airport.  As adults we enjoyed all of this too but more so, we loved unplugging (we only had the weakest of interest signals in our room), relaxing, and just enjoying the atmosphere.  In fact, one of our favorite evenings of the week involved a local bottle of wine and dinner from room service eaten on our ocean front balcony.  It really doesn't get much better than this.  

Because pictures say it better than words can, here is a sampling of the amazing sights we saw:

Aquamarine water

Paleokastritsa

The sculpture garden at the Achillion Museum

Everything was made of olive wood at this shop in the
center of old Corfu Town

An old motorcycle waiting for its rider to return
outside of the walls to the Old Fortress

Crossing into the Old Fortress

Olive You

Olives still on the tree

Yesterday we participated in an event I've been looking forward to for over a year.  It wasn't a national holiday or even a significant celebration. Rather, we joined some Albanian friends for a day of pressing olive oil.  We had been invited to partake in this late fall Albanian tradition last year but we couldn't make our schedules work to accommodate the pressing.  This year, we arranged our schedules around this event.

I had toured an olive oil factory during their off season so I was familiar with the machines and the process but I still wasn't sure what to expect.  The factory itself was nondescript.  We had actually driven past it before without noticing that it was even there.  Only a small sign nailed to a post at the top of the driveway gave any indication to the sweet oil that was produced at the bottom of the hill.  The first thing I noticed upon entering the factory was that it was very loud.  The sounds emanating from the machinery were deafening so I was pleased to see that the actual workers in the factory were wearing ear protection.  (The same can't be said for the handful of old men who were sitting around a table in the pressing room drinking raki).  Factory is almost a generous term for the building.  In reality it was an immaculate concrete structure with the ubiquitous bar/cafe attached to it.

The process itself hasn't changed much over the centuries but the equipment involved certainly has.  What used to be done completely by hand is now done with electricity driven machinery.  I can only imagine how much time it took to press olive oil the old fashioned way!  Burlap bags of freshly harvested olives were lined up along the walls of the pressing room.  I immediately noticed that some of the olives were green while others were purplish-black. It turns out that both kinds can be used and interchangeably at that.  The darker fruit are actually the ripe olives while the green ones are the unripe ones.  It makes sense.

The first step is for the olives to be sorted to remove any leaves and twigs that are mixed in with the olives.  The process brought me back to my Maine roots reminding of the way wild blueberries are sorted before being turned into blueberry delights.  The bags of olives are dumped into a large hopper that is set into the ground; they are then vacuumed up into the industrial sized sorting machine.

Olives being emptied into the hopper for sorting.

Coming out of the sorter all picked over

After the olives are sorted, they are ready for a hot bath.

Post bath, the olives then move into the actual pressing chamber.  Here they are ground and mashed into a puree to remove all of the tasty oils.

This is what the olives look like as the oil is being pressed out

Next, the extracted oil is filtered and pumped through a series of pipes and vats until it emerges as a beautiful green liquid.  This oil has a bright olive flavor (the same can't be said for many oils) that to my inexperienced palate tasted ready to use.  We were told that we need to let the oil sit in open containers for 24 hours to allow it to breathe.  After that, the oil should be stored in glass bottles in a dark space in order to keep its flavors pure.

What I found the most facinating about the entire process is what happens to the olive remnants after the oils are removed.  The mashed pulp and pits are transferred into a drying room where they are allowed to dry until they resemble dry saw dust.  They are then stored until next year's olive oil pressing when they are used as the fuel that heats the olive bath water.  How cool is that?

The pulp and pit room

Bags (and piles) of dried pulp and pits

This is what $100 of fresh olive oil looks like in Albania.  I can only imagine what this  one-year supply would cost us in the U.S.

We came home with 20 liters of fresh olive oil.  That is a lot of oil for us but for most Albanians, who cook only with with olive oil, it represents a fraction of what is needed to get through a year.  We also brought home 3 kilograms of cured olives. Considering I'm the only one in the Brown house who eats olives, that is a lot of late night snacking for one person.  I declined the offer for fresh, uncured olives though since I cured a batch of my own this past fall.  You can read about that experience here.