While I have been offering up my take on some of the fantastic food we experienced in Italy and implied ad nauseam how great Italian chefs are, I should in all fairness tell you about one thing most Italian restaurateurs and bartenders don’t have a clue how to prepare. And that my dear friends, is a martini. That’s right! A simple Tanqueray martini – very dry, shaken not stirred, up with one olive. (Really, can any drink be more cosmopolitan or easy to fix?)

But having experienced some horrible martinis before on our travels, (the worst of which was a martini prepared in New Zealand – 1 part cheap gin, 3 parts red vermouth) I was, I think  understandably, a little leery about ordering a martini our first night in Rome. But darn, I wanted a “safe arrival” drink before we set off for dinner.

So I put on my most sophisticated face and boldly ordered a martini the way I always order a martini in the states. (After all, we were in Rome, at a lovely small hotel that caters to overseas tourists! My request should have been as ordinary as asking if I could exchange the rock they gave me for a pillow for something that actually had a little give when I laid my head down. But that’s a story for another time!)

After I told the nice gentleman attending the bar what I wanted he just stared at me. Now I know he spoke English because he was the same person who had, not 2 hours before, checked us in. So I decided to help him out. I told him exactly how to prepare my drink. By the look on his face I could tell he was absolutely horrified by my instructions, but by golly, when he brought me my drink (about a triple) it was perfectly mixed. What he didn’t get right however, was the “one olive” in the drink part. What he brought instead was my drink (sans olive) and a bowl of olives! (Mr. C had been smart. He had ordered Scotch on the rocks. Again, at least a triple!) So we clinked glasses, said “cheers” and proceeded to sip our drinks and do a little itinerary planning in the cozy library of the hotel.

So here we are our first night in Italy, having only arrived that afternoon, hungry, very short on sleep and very long on potent drinks in front of us. Oh, and of course, a big old bowl of olives.

Now, I love olives. (Mr. C likes them, but he isn’t really the olive nut that I am!) So I lit into those olives like I hadn’t eaten in days. I bit into the first one, and just could not believe how wonderful it tasted. (Now granted, I was really hungry. But I’ve been hungry before and still been able to discern good from amazing!) And these good sized olives were truly amazing! They were a distinctive bright green, slightly crunchy, with a meaty, buttery flesh. They had just the right amount of salt and not even a hint of bitterness. In other words, they were perfect, the best olives I had ever tasted!

It turns out these olives are Italy’s number one snack olive. They are often referred to as “dolce” (meaning “sweet” in Italian), and are produced exclusively in Castelvetrano, Sicily, from the olive variety known as nocerella del belice. So needless to say I looked for them everywhere we went. I actually snuck a jar home with us believing that I would not be able to find these little darlings in the Seattle area. But low and behold my favorite place to buy imported foods (PFI – Pacific Food Importers) sells them in bulk. (Thank you God!) And although I have not looked for Mezzetta brand Castelvetrano jarred olives in my local grocery stores, I think larger more upscale stores carry them.

So do yourself a favor. Give these beautiful green gems a try. They are simply wonderful.

And in case you’re wondering, we did make it to dinner that night, even after finishing every last drop of our drinks. But I’m sure glad the restaurant we chose (with the hotel’s help) was within easy walking distance. Because running on very little sleep, a very large before dinner drink, and a big meal, we were literally holding each other up by the time we got back to our hotel. Jet lag, what jet lag?

Photo – Castelvetrano green olives on an antipasto platter