Olives...

I've loved olives as long as I can remember... born in Cyprus to a Greek mother, it's only natural... olives were on the plate from the moment I was introduced to solids... and maybe even before that.
And for the first few years of my life, I knew olives to be on everyone's plate at every meal... at least while we lived in Cyprus.

So it came as a surprise to me in grade five when I discovered that classmates of mine here in my adopted country of Canada didn't like olives. Oh the shock! Oh the horror! How could anyone NOT like olives? The discovery came when our music teacher threatened the whole class (as teachers were allowed to do so back in then) with the torturous thought of having to consume olives if we didn't learn the song he was teaching to us. His words resonate with me even today,
"If you don't learn this song by the end of the week, I'm going to bring olives to class on Friday and every one of you will have to eat one."
I was confused with such a threat since it seemed to be a treat... and I was even more confused by my classmates who made gagging noises and said ewwwww in every musical note possible. And some not so possible, or at least not so musical.

How could anyone not love olives? Scramble the letters in "olives" and you have "is love".

So for my teen years and most of my adult years, I've kept my love of olives a quiet love... not secret really, but one I dared not share with anyone who wasn't of Mediterranean heritage. Following in my mom's footsteps, I make my weekly shopping trip to Vancouver's Commercial Drive and pick olives from a variety of barrels. I instruct the vendors as to whether I want 100g of Chilean olives today (great on their own), or 200g of Kalamata olives (perfect for salads), or 200g of Moroccan olives (wonderful in Eliopita-olive"pie")... Mmm... the assortment. Olives. Olives. Olives. The thought alone always makes me salivate.

Around 2003, a push for organic and wholesome foods shifted the eating patterns of many North Americans. New grocery stores such as Whole Foods (American), Capers (Canadian bought out by Whole Foods this year), Choices (Canadian), and a few others emerged. They included olives in their deli. Along the same time came the trendiness of eating "ethnic". In 2006, traditionally mainstream grocery store Safeway renovated to a more "modern" deli department. This included an olive bar... a selection of olives to be bought by weight. Finally my fellow Canadians were catching on. It's exciting to see that others can appreciate something some of us have enjoyed for so long.

Last week during a Costco run (why do we always refer to shopping at Costco as a "Costco-run"?), I saw a six pack of olives for only $5.69. Only $5.69!!! I pay that much for about one can's worth. I had never eaten olives from a can, but how bad could they be? Olives are such a perfect food that it's unimaginable they could ever taste bad. They're in the category of watermelon... may not be as wonderful as other times, but always refreshing. In that sense olives are always satisfying. After reading the label (grown and packaged in California; black; jumbo), I bought the six pack.

On my way home I dropped by my parents' place. I took a can inside with me. Within minutes, I had opened the can, drained it, and placed a bowl of olives on their kitchen table. I handed a fork to each of us and we all three put an olive in our mouth. Then the horror began. Being too polite to spit, we all clenched our mouths shut, scrunched our faces, let our eyes tell a tale of disaster. We watched each other to see who would dare swallow first. The paper napkins were not within reach. One by one we all gulped down what was in our mouth. An olive each. A jumbo black California olive from a can. Being creative, Dad suggested he marinate the rest in some olive oil and a coriander. Mom and I skeptically agreed. Two days later, they were still beyond help.

So it dawned on me last week... two decades after my grade five music class... it dawned on me why my classmates weren't so keen on olives. If those jumbo black California olives had been my introduction to olives, I would never be the olive lover I am today.

I have memories of summer childhoods in Cyprus... taking a break from hide-n-seek with my friends just so I can go in and grab a bowl of olives and slice of bread. Nothing tasted better as a snack. Nothing.

To this day, nothing does. Afterall, OLIVES = IS LOVE!