Bertolli Olive Oil

...to the wonderful world of Bertolli Olive Oil.


Incidentally the measure of how dedicated/bored I am is that I've actually been to the Bertolli website. It's about as interesting as a website based around all things olivey can hope to be.


The lovely Bertolli people started making olive oil in Lucca (which is a really nice place, from what I remember), ooh, quite a while ago. They turned out to be quite ...
...really, isn't it? Also, Bertolli do those ads which irritate me, so I can't really be arsed making up any more stuff about how great they are. They make oil, and other assorted things for people who are too lazy to make their own Bolognese. That's all you really need to know.


If you fancy making your own olive oil, you'll need to follow a few specific steps. First, move yourself to Italy (I'd recommend this. Italy's really ... more

First things first, let's get a few of the questions you're quite likely to ask out of the way.

1. Am I writing this review purely with the express intention of making money off of the product of the week thing?

Yes, yes I am. In my defence, I'm proper skint at the moment. I don't even know what I spent all my money on (random tat, probably, but in the interests of making you feel sorry for me we'll say I gave it all away to some kind of charity aimed at helping cute puppies, shall we?)

2. Is that shameless ploy likely to work?

Depressingly, probably not. I suspect the masters of Ciao may think 'Oh Christ, it's that one who writes the occasionally surreal reviews that often offend quite a large percentage of our target audience. Let's just quietly ignore her in the hope that she goes away/manages to write something that's actually relevant.' If that is what you're thinking, let me tell you, it's not going to happen. That said, I'll probably mention olive oil at some point in this review. It may not be quite in the same manner as everyone else who writes a review on this fascinating topic, mind, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

3. Am I currently off work and a bit bored?

Why, yes I am. It's all related to the being skint thing. As a matter of fact, I'm too scared to turn the heating on in case the oil runs out. Contrary to popular belief you cannot run a central heating system off olive oil. Therefore, I am cold and my fingers have gone a bit blue. With the money that this review earns me I may well be able to afford heat again (that's a big lie, though. I'll spend it on cigarettes and vodka).

Right, on to the wonderful world of Bertolli Olive Oil.

Incidentally the measure of how dedicated/bored I am is that I've actually been to the Bertolli website. It's about as interesting as a website based around all things olivey can hope to be.

The lovely Bertolli people started making olive oil in Lucca (which is a really nice place, from what I remember), ooh, quite a while ago. They turned out to be quite good at it, so they promptly left Italy in order to take over the olive oil world. There's probably more to say about that, but it's a bit dull, really, isn't it? Also, Bertolli do those ads which irritate me, so I can't really be arsed making up any more stuff about how great they are. They make oil, and other assorted things for people who are too lazy to make their own Bolognese. That's all you really need to know.

If you fancy making your own olive oil, you'll need to follow a few specific steps. First, move yourself to Italy (I'd recommend this. Italy's really nice). Then you need to get yourself a farm (this may be a wee bit trickier. If all else fails just move in to someone else's farm and stay really quiet in the hope that they may not notice you). Next, plant some trees. Probably best to plant olive trees, as pear trees will look lovely but really won't produce that many olives. You'll need about 5 acres or so. Water them every so often (talking to them in the manner of Prince Charles is optional, but will aid your case for squatter's rights by way of insanity when the host family whose farm you've been parasitically bleeding dry find you hiding in their barn). In five to seven years you'll have some olives (you might want to bring some snacks and a magazine or two to occupy you whilst you're waiting). Then you can either bring it all to the local mill and pay their extortionate prices to have it made into oil, or you can hire yourself some peasants to squish them all up (if you're thinking of ruddy-faced peasants who'll accept you into their culture and feed you tasty rustic food in return for you paying them a couple of euros per ton of olives they squish up you're probably a bit misguided. Peasants are hardly ever as much fun as they look, I've found).

Realistically, the only way you're going to be arsed to follow the above guidelines is if Channel 4 have commissioned you to be in a programme in which you attempt to make a better life for yourself abroad and then, inevitably, make a twat of yourself on camera and then fail spectacularly for the viewing pleasure of a nation which now hates you. It's probably better, then, to pop down the supermarket and but some stuff in a bottle for a really quite reasonable £3.79. You can have a go at the other way if you want, but this'll be less grief.

There's a vast array of types of olive oil to choose from, but for the purposes of this we'll examine extra virgin olive oil (they all taste pretty much the same, unless you're cheap and you're buying the value stuff, which tastes awful).

Extra Virgin Olive Oil is so called because Bertolli put loads of virgins in there. No, not really. Although, in a way, don't you wish that were true? Boringly, what it actually means is that it's from the first pressing of the olives and that there can be no refined oil in there.

It tastes a lot like oil that's come from olives. Ever eaten olives? Well, that's what olive oil tastes like, but without the solid olivey bits (seriously, what did you think it was going to taste like? Cheese?) Because it's extra virgin olive oil it has a very rich and unctuous flavour, which should contain no hint of acidity. It's a much stronger taste than sunflower oil, and is also much better for you (because it's got loads of monounsaturated fats. Your heart, apparently, is quite fond of these). Consequently, when cooking with it it's best not to use it with excessively delicate flavours, as the extra virgin olive oil will just beat the crap out of them and probably give them a wedgie. It works well with tomato based sauces, strongly flavoured fish and meat dishes, and as a dipping sauce if you throw in a bit of garlic and oregano. If you're all posh you can marinate meat with it, although it's best not to use it with subtly flavoured fish.

As olive oils go, Bertolli's is pretty good. It's suitable for all forms of cooking, keeps well, and rarely contains any sediment. However, if you're a real olive oil aficionado (and, if that's something you readily admit to, a fiver says you don't get out much) it's probably wise to remember that Bertolli's is a mass-produced product, which inevitably means a slight dip in quality. There are better and purer oils on the market but you'll have to pay a premium for them and no-one will really care when you bore them with how much you know about olive oil. Much better to buy this stuff and use the money you save to either a) send to me, or b) buy alcohol with.

The best bit about this stuff is that you can, if you're feeling adventurous, veer away from the traditional cooking route and use olive oil for loads of other stuff.

If you're living in biblical times, and blind, you can put it on your eyes in the hope that it'll make you see again (your optometrist won't recommend this, though, on the grounds that it won't work). Also, should you find yourself with a crucified Jesus on your hands (what are the chances, though?) you can use it to anoint the body and he'll be like new again in a mere three days.

If, however, you're not from the bible (and if not, why not? Eh?) you can put it on your hair for a really good conditioning treatment. My gran advocated using it as a moisturiser, but then, my gran had Alzheimer's, was entertainingly nuts and also recommended wandering the streets and swearing at random passers-by. Still, worth a go, I'd imagine, if you're all flaky. Just be prepared for people making excuses not to hang out with you any more because you smell all oily. If you're my mum (quite a limited target audience, I know) you can force your 6 year old daughter's head onto the kitchen table and pour stone cold olive oil down her ear in a misguided attempt to cure an ear infection. This won't work, either, but will have the benefit of making aforementioned daughter intensely uncomfortable and inspired to document the trauma in a review 20 years down the line. Finally, should you be too lazy to make the trip down to the local hardware store, you'll also find that olive oil will do a damn fine job of stopping the lock on your front door squeaking after it fell off and you reattached it with Blu Tack.

There you go. Olive oil: almost as good as Blu Tack. 

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