Getting Well Oiled
There is, in Monóvar, just down the road from us, a restaurant that I rather like. As soon as you are at the table, the server brings a chunk of bread and a serving dish with black olives—on one side, the typical and renowned Empeltre variety from Aragon, and, on the other, a serving of olive oil from one of the well-respected almazaras, or oil mills, with a quality mark. It reminds me of the wide variety of Spanish phrases that suggest that with oil, bread, and wine, one will never go hungry. Born and bred Spaniards that we are, we soon order the wine. It’s a splendid start to the meal, one of those reminders that good food doesn’t have to be fancy food. Though I have to say that what comes after is usually pretty fancy! I suspect that some Spaniards may drink olive oil. In fact, I know that for a fact. At an event in Yecla, the man next to me was doing just that. “Dipping bread into the oil adds a variable,” he said. Olive oil is just a fact in Spain; it’s something that simply happe...