Olives. Growing up poor in New Zealand in the 1950s/60s my only exposure to olives was in American magazines. You’d see a martini with a green olive in it. It looked sophisticated and was surely delicious.
Fast forward to my parents’ silver wedding anniversary, which they celebrated with a family meal at a very fancy Italian restaurant. I would have been ten or so, first time in a restaurant. I was thrilled to see dishes of green olives on the table. At last, I’d get to eat one!
I put that olive in my mouth and tasted something overwhelmingly vile, alien, disgusting. I faked a coughing fit and spat it into a napkin. So sophisticated!
These days I eat handfuls of olives - green, black, stuffed, whatever. Kalamata is my favourite. Yum!
Olives. Growing up poor in New Zealand in the 1950s/60s my only exposure to olives was in American magazines. You’d see a martini with a green olive in it. It looked sophisticated and was surely delicious.
Fast forward to my parents’ silver wedding anniversary, which they celebrated with a family meal at a very fancy Italian restaurant. I would have been ten or so, first time in a restaurant. I was thrilled to see dishes of green olives on the table. At last, I’d get to eat one!
I put that olive in my mouth and tasted something overwhelmingly vile, alien, disgusting. I faked a coughing fit and spat it into a napkin. So sophisticated!
These days I eat handfuls of olives - green, black, stuffed, whatever. Kalamata is my favourite. Yum!