Long story short. Last year on a Thanksgiving Day walk with Alvaro, I discovered OLIVES!
Free food!
Growing on trees!
Right there on my moms street just waiting for me to forage!
So we walked back to the house, found a paper shopping bag and filled it with pounds and pounds of olives.
Two days later, back at home in Oakland, I spent all day on the old internet trying to figure out a non-scary way to cure my new olive friends. I was determined to find some way to make them edible without bringing a can of Red Devil Lye (um, that's sounds safe!) into our kitchen.
After hours upon hours and reading a gazillion recipes, I found one where you soak them in a very salty solution for a long time and then one day, no more bitterness! Like magic or something.
We had those jars of olives clogging up our counter space for what seemed like months and to tell the truth, they weren't bitter in the end but they were so squishy, I couldn't eat them.
I stashed them in the cupboard covered in olive oil until one day Alvaro announced "your olives are moldy" sort of like I imagine him saying "your kid soiled his diaper again." At least with mold I had permission to throw them out.
But what did I do this Thanksgiving but say "hey AV, wanna go pick olives?"
It's like I completely forgot the whole 2007 Olive Debacle even though it's only been a couple months since I got the greasy film off of the bottom of the cupboard. Wouldn't it be okay to let Alvaro shoulder some of the blame since he didn't try to stop me or anything?
Exact re-enactment of last year including skipping down the street with my shopping bag, picking like a mad-woman, searching for curing methods, soaking in solutions etc.
But today I looked over at the jars of olives, no doubt getting squishier by the minute and said "ENOUGH!"
I am throwing them out, one and all. Olive curing is best left to professionals or folks with more counter space.
Posts
