Have you ever bought premium olive oil on tap?
In five weeks, from December 13, you won’t be able to any more.
Please – everyone in the UK who loves premium extra virgin olive oil and has enjoyed the quality, value, ease and more environmentally-friendly way of buying this remarkable fruit juice on tap from a fine food specialist shop, please add your voice.
PLEASE SHARE THIS so that everyone knows that the Government is banning the sale of “on tap” olive oil from December 13.
Not all oils, you understand not even infused olive oil, just olive oil.
Not only is the ban unjustified and ill-conceived, it is also discriminatory, punitive and unfair.
All on-tap oils are susceptible to the same potential health and fraud issues yet the EU and DeFRA are just singling out and banning the extraordinarily healthy and delicious fruit juice the world knows as olive oil.
Customers go to fine food outlets they know and trust and use olive oil from producers like us who they know and trust. How is that different to any other food if everything is properly labelled and detailed in a way people can clearly understand and trust?
We have to lobby the British Government and the EU to make them see how wrong this discriminatory ban is. With your help we will try and do so. Tiny as we are.
To put this as simply as possible…
We very much welcome new stricter rules regarding labelling as the EU seeks to counter food fraud. There has to be full provenance on all foods and far more clarity. We at Mother’s Garden give more information than is required, including the pressing and bottling dates (vital yet still rare information).
BUT, based upon a 10-year- old ruling by the European Court, the UK Government says it must now comply with a ban on “tap” sales of olive oil. This includes bag in box.
Part of our business is supplying our premium olive oil in bag in box to health food stores and delis and farm shops and, hence, on to thousands of customers nationwide.
We contest that the clean, simple bag in box method is the best way to preserve the olive oil from light and air contamination. A bag in box cannot be refilled and resealed, and it gives both customers and small businesses a wonderful way to source the best olive oil at sensible cost.
Less weight, less transport impact, less waste, better quality, lower cost. Everyone sees the sense and value of this, the goodness and health benefits.
Look at it this way.
Under this ludicrous new rule the following applies…
UNLAWFUL – our olives are picked and pressed in the village cooperative mill, then the bag in box is filled at the mill and sent to fine food outlets via our family’s UK farm, fully labelled. The age of the oil is also clearly defined.
LAWFUL – olive oil from a host of different locations and countries is taken in tankers by major corporations, mostly to Italy, where it is stored and blended, then bottled and shipped to a distributor and on to stores in the UK. The age of the olive oil is not defined.
We do not say other ways of supplying olive oil should be banned, of course not.
But why regulate against the simplest and most efficient way of bringing this essential food at a sensible cost to the British public?
It is NOT a luxury, and premium olive oil should be affordable and at the heart of every meal.
So we ask – what is wrong with the fully labelled, non-refillable bag in box method, also used for soft drinks and wine?
And how can any government or court justify such discrimination against one food product, one oil?
So, please share and help us spread the word.
October clouds have been as sporadic as political apologies. The snakes are still in the long grass and the eagles have been picking them off. Nispera scent gilds air rusty with pig odours and rotten bureaucratic nonsense.
Juan, the tireless giant of a farmer who doesn’t let darkness stop him, has been pressing on transforming the scrubby folds and ribbons of abandoned land near the ruined convent. The brief pong is a price worth paying.
The biggest man in the village has the biggest tractor, and the broad beam from the rank of lights on his green machine searches the valley as he weaves between the sporadic olive trees, muck spreading and then harrowing in before he sows his winter barley. We shall have the pleasing lushness soon enough, then the swaying sea of ears in May, the bales and wavy lines of stubble between the timeless olive trees.
Winter. Hardly. It seems an age away, yet Joe returns from high school with talk of a brutal season in store. We have had no snow to speak of for two years so we are due, yet October has surpassed September for warmth and our swallows have only just preened, flexed and flown.
We sleep with the window open. The duvet has not been unpacked.
Back in pulsing July, from a French cheese-making family who wanted to come down from their Brittany farm for some October sunshine. We looked at each other and crossed our fingers. On a blustery, damp September morning they emailed us again to ask if they needed to bring sheets and towels. No we replied. Great, they said, adding that the children couldn’t wait to enjoy the swimming pool.
Nobody has ever dipped a toe this late in the year, so it is indicative of the Indian summer that the lovely Bretons have been taking the plunge day and night, incessantly. My much-rehearsed apology (in floppy French) about the weather and water temperature went by the board.
In a couple of weeks I will be in a Barcelona television studio trying not to make an arse of myself as we (the freelance writers on the magazine Catalonia Today) grin inanely into the camera and try and string a sentence together without sounding like we are breaking some teeth in for a friend. The Catalan newspaper I write for has launched a television company and seems to think we might pull in the crowds, so to speak. Mmm. I promise to send you the online link when we have managed to record something.
THE OLIVE OIL BAN LATEST
Meanwhile, the impending UK ban on the sale of “on tap” olive oil continues to foster outrage and incredulity. I think we should challenge the legality of it as it discriminates and is unfounded, so if there are any trade lawyers out there willing to join the fray please get in touch.
Here is some more startling information.
In our Mother’s Garden campaign to shed some light on Government thinking I asked the Rural Payments Agency (which has made the pronouncement) why didn’t civil servants talk to people before they weighed in?
Oh but we did, they told me. There was a “public consultation” with stakeholders. That’s news to me and obviously 99.9 per cent of the UK population. Here is a link to the report on the four week “consultation”, on an issue affecting hundreds of businesses and thousands of customers. Have a read of the summary of responses.
Bottom line – the 10-questions online survey and report is based on responses from a total of…. seven people. That’s three bottlers, one local authority representative, one retailer, one customer and one person who did not say who they were.
I then asked why didn’t the RPA tell anyone about the impending December ban? Oh but we did, came the reply again. The RPA’s answer….
” Details of olive oil requirements are at the following link on gov.uk as last updated on 20 August 2014. This was also publicised through social media via the RPA twitter account”. The RPA Twitter account!
I am sorry, but as a published author of fiction and a screenwriter even I could not have made that up. Juan’s muck spreading smells sweeter.
Please do me and other small producers and fine food outlets a huge favour and share this blog – we have to spread the word, counter and hopefully stop such awful governance.
We are 3 gold star winners in the Great Taste Awards (2011). We know our stuff and a great many people trust us and rely on us. We are olive oil experts and we deal with small fine food expert outlets, never supermarkets. Our fully-labelled bag-in-box approach, killed off in one bureaucratic brush stroke, most certainly is the answer for quality, provenance, freshness and waste reduction for people who want the best for less.
Yet the civil service simply does not have any understanding. Olive oil is not a luxury but an essential food that can and should be affordable.
We will seek to challenge this somehow, small though we are. Help us if you can, even with a word. We have also spoken out on our Mother’s Garden Facebook page too, so please share that if you can.
And keep well.
PS We have to sell 60×5 litres, 20x 2litres and seven cases of 6x500ml bottles during November. The perfect solution, may I humbly suggest, for gifts this Christmas or for dinner parties with friends and family feasting. Just get in touch.
The endless examples of governmental disconnect – a repeated and abject failure to understand how most people think, exist, survive, work, attain and sustain – span my lifetime. At unthinkable cost.
Compared to the gross scale of some of well documented failures in governance, our stand on the matter of extra virgin olive oil and how it is sold is miniscule, but it makes it no less important. It illustrates the general issue of how good intentions can, due to law-makers’ failings to communicate and understand simple truths, become punitive, costly disasters.
I need to shout, and I will. See my last post and watch for more.
But today I want to simply share the fortifying textures and beauty of Mother’s Garden and these valleys. The vegetable garden chair, the bearded man of the mountain (do you see him?), a cobweb stair to the summit of wild asparagus.
Time’s up. Back to the office. There will be further news from Mother’s Garden soon. Keep well.
Time has slipped. This chronicle is overdue, too long and in part a bit bleak, so I also offer an uplifting small choir of photography at the end that has its own voice.
The here and now at delicious Mother’s Garden is calm and bright outside, but stormy inside.
We labour in the office, not least because we are at loggerheads with the British Government, and DeFRA and the Rural Payments Agency in particular, about an impending ban on the sale of on tap extra virgin olive oil in the UK. Yes, you read that correctly.
I would be so grateful if you could share this blog with as many fair-minded, good-food-loving people as possible.
Truthfully, I can’t see how we, tiny as we are, could every claim to be standing up to the bureaucratic bull of government, but we won’t be trampled without putting up a fierce fight. We have to.
This is the unpalatable truth….
There is grim history of corporate fraud in the multi-billion Euro business of olive oil.
That is why so many people buy our and similar premium olive oil, direct from our online shop or through fine food outlets, to be sure of provenance and quality. And buying it “on tap” through responsible, independent delis, farm and health food shops has been growing in popularity, to cut cost, waste and transport impact.
Last year Tom Mueller’s book Extra Virginity blew the lid off the big business olive oil fraud and at the same time hailed long and loud the producers of “real” premium extra virgin olive oil toiling away in Mediterranean countries against a tide of inferior and cheaper brands of undefined source and age that still bore the magical term extra virgin.
I need to explain the parameters of the EVOO “standard” another day, but save to say they are far too broad and fail to address the fundamental aspects of provenance, freshness and quality.
Now the EU and, in turn, the UK government have tried to tackle any fraud with
a) some sensible labelling requirements (we already do more),
b) an utterly misguided, punitive ban the sale of on tap extra virgin olive oil – a key market for experts like us, and a vital business for fine food delis, farm shops and health food stores.
– Wholly off target (in tackling the corporate fraudsters they may well kill off the likes of us and other honest producers who can be trusted),
– Grossly unfair (the “on tap” ban only affects olive oil, not other oils, Yes, you also read that correctly, which begs the question is fostering unfair competition lawful?),
– Excessive and illogical (proper labelling on dispensers – as we already do – defines the provenance, freshness and quality of the olive oil being tapped off).
Honestly. I am incredulous, as is olive oil writer and expert Judy Ridgway. See her website blogs at www.oliveoil.org.uk.
I could go on, and will at another time because I must. Save to say for now that emails are flying about, mostly in one direction. What on Earth is the cost of all this mindless bureaucracy to everyone involved, not least the taxpayer?
Tens of thousands of customers will miss out. Thousands of quality businesses will lose. It will cost us dear too, and we are going to really struggle, so at the same time as making the case to DeFRA that they are missing the target by a country mile we are trying to up sales of our 2 litre and 5 litre containers and cases of 6x500ml bottles.
Would you like some? Fantastic for feasting this winter and Christmas, and our 500ml bottles and embroidered aprons make lovely Christmas presents. Click here for the online shop.
This storm comes with others. October is serene, but September seethed with sierra night tempests, many skirting us, some not, all electrifying. The godly clouds were defined by pulses of blinding light, more rapid than I have ever seen, then came the torrents bringing with them great showers of walnuts and the onset of grape rot.
Heat and damp on the eve of harvest bestows the kiss of mould, and the farmers have been dodging showers to gather what goodness is to be found in the vineyards. People are working together, sharing , cooperating, toiling through: what is grim for the grapes is thirst-quenching for the olives. There is always another fruiting, some balance in the spinning existence.
What black grapes we have of worth beyond the Mother’s Garden fig trees will be made into fine wine by a friend. Our stainless steel fermentation vat in the barn echoes with emptiness this year. There just isn’t time, and this has suffocated any niggling inclination. Today, though, we climbed ladders to fill buckets with the green muscat grapes shading the front door. As I type Maggie is in the farmhouse kitchen making juice.
All growth surges again in the October warmth. Sun and moon shadows stop the clock. You can hear the Earth breathing. I tog up in beekeeping apparel and gently cut back a long stem of red current in the holiday cottage garden. A wasps’ nest has flowered close to the tip. The occupants are massed on it and I talk to them as we wander up the land and along a hazel terrace where I stick the stem into the ground in the shade of bramble leaves. Not one deserts the comb.
Tractors with laden and then empty trailers to-and-fro along the lane, fuelled by a pinch of harvest urgency. Snails fast-track through the grasses along the highways of irrigation pipes. A kingfisher brightens the view from the office window. And yesterday during my afternoon dog walk six different varieties of butterfly painted their colours against the lushness as life that swells before the great sleep.
The fig feast has finally ended. We gather hundreds of walnuts and thousands of almonds. The de-husking machine outside the back door rattles teeth but saves hours, and we must find a market for them. There is a good rate of payment this year, we hear.
Most of all, though, we labour in the office longer than we want to, spreading the good news about our olive oil, campaigning against costly bureaucratic nonsense , and opening people’s minds to the warm opportunity of a few days or weeks staying here in our cottage. Want to come? November, December, January, February, March……
I must away.
WE ONLY HAVE VERY LIMITED STOCK LEFT of the delicious, award-winning last harvest.
Do you need some? Have you enough for the next three months, for autumn and winter feasting? Never tried our delicious Mother’s Garden fresh extra virgin olive oil?
Don’t run out – get in touch or order online. And please share this news with everyone you know who appreciates wonderful food. THANK YOU!
Are you new to Mother’s Garden? Please see how we are different, how to cut the cost of the finest olive oil and why freshness is as important as provenance and quality.
This is all that is left at 2014 prices (not including £10 delivery charge. Share a delivery and cut the cost. No delivery charge for orders of more than £100).
5 litre containers (£37.50) – 80
2 litre containers (£17.50) – 30
Case of 6x500ml bottles (£39 IDEAL CHRISTMAS GIFTS) – 18
20 litre bag in box with integral tap (£150) – 5.
We would love to hear from you.
Martin and Maggie
PS – standby for another Mother’s Garden farm chronicle in the next few days………..
Summer sighs, olives begin to swell on the trees and we beaver with Mother’s Garden farm work in the early or late hours, or in the shade of the house or barn. In the early afternoon we are in the office, talking olive oil to people from all over the world.
Every day more and more new customers are contacting us to order fresh olive oil, so thank you. We have stock in the UK right now, so please get in touch if you would taste the difference. You can also visit our the online shop.
Here’s the puzzle.
We have started the annual clearing of the barn in readiness for the September grape harvest (we made about 100 litres of farm wine from the little vineyard beside the house) and the all-important November olive harvest.
Hidden in a dark corner behind the olive nets we found some pottery – mud vases all sealed but for one. We find these everywhere and it is a fascinating story. Do you know what they are?
We will tell you later in the week.
Keep well. Eat well.
Here is some fresh extra virgin olive oil good news if you live in Cornwall.
First, we are delighted to be now working with top Cornish chef Ben Quinn, whose refreshing approach to food includes Catch and Cook seafood barbecue feasts, dinner parties in your own home, Cook Together Eat Together family feasts, bespoke menu Pop Up Parties, and wonderful Wedding fayre. His business is worldwide. If you have a special occasion or just want an exceptional food experience in a group or as a family, with Mother’s Garden Fresh olive oil on the menu, get in touch with Ben.
Second, if you want to try one 500ml bottle of our fresh olive oil it is available at Argal Farm Shop, just outside Falmouth on the Hillhead Road. Tel 01326 372737 or see the shop’s Facebook page. Colin and Stacey have a host of other treats for foodies, including homemade cakes, pasties, chutneys, cheeses and even organic skincare. Do you have a deli or farm shop in the Newquay or Penzance areas and would like to stock our fresh olive oil or to ask about it? Please get in touch.
Third, we have more and more Cornish foodies buying direct – 2 or 5 litre containers – and saving on transport by being part of a hub or group who share a single delivery. Again, if you are keen to have fresh olive oil with all its goodness and flavour, at the centre of your table then please get in touch. Some friends who have worked here at Mother’s Garden have done olive oil tastings at some Cornish markets for us – maybe some of you have already tasted some.
Mother’s Garden – cold pressed, exceptional low acidity, one village mill, and we tell you the pressing dates.
FRESHNESS, PROVENANCE, QUALITY
I’m grateful to the swallow on the sundial. In the delicate beginnings of another day we wake again to the cacophony of golden orioles feasting on tear-drop figs, accompanied by whistling bee-eaters spiralling above.
Outside the storeroom door I drop cat food into an old frying pan for the two barn felines, and lazily lift my gaze up above the muscat grape vine. The swallow sits near the tip of the angled iron rod protruding from the mottled lime render, soon to cast a shadow and tell us the early hour, plum centre on the forehead of the weathered house.
It sums up Mother’s Garden, the common quest to weigh time and consider the natural waypoints to a fulfilling existence. I tiptoe back into the house to get my camera. The swallow bides and I thank it. Then, just to its right, an oriole alights on the dead branch crown of a crowd of fig leaves. The fat tree has a bald patch like Friar Tuck. Most days I glimpse a flash of gold as the fidgety orioles whirl about, never still for more than a breath. But now I am holding my camera. There is just enough light, just enough time.
Bind weed clouds the log pile, life swamping death, and trumpets its victory through a plethora of white blooms that unfold with the warmth. How stupid the word we have for plants that don’t fit our narrow values. Just a few days ago a typically curious, keen-eyed six year old Bavarian boy, staying with his family in our cottage for a few days, and like all little people hungry for real adventures if given the chance, stopped me on our nature walk to marvel at the yellow flowering of a succulent thistle. The intricacies of things we rarely notice crowd the senses. How raw and rich the world can be to young eyes, uncluttered minds, if time and will can be cherished, nurtured.
The valley steadies its breath, paces itself as the heat of midsummer sucks energy from Englishmen. Hounds and felines flop too and busy ants must make a detour round a lazy tail.
What follows may not be palatable but it is the truth.
Rats come and go. The population is thin most of the time, far thinner than any city, but spikes occasionally when, naturally, there are rich pickings on the fruit trees. These creatures, mostly of the night, take their life in their claws and figs in their teeth. It is impossibly hard for them. They flourish for a few days and those that prey on them circle and close in.
Raptors eye for daylight risk-takers, ring-tailed cats crouch in the dark, and snakes move in. A mostly black western whipsnake (coluber viridiflavus) a 5ft wonder to behold, ignores Maggie to bide in the shade of a drystone wall near the woodpile. It is taking a mid-morning risk, for the birds of prey are partial. The circle of life spins. Ripe, half-eaten figs fall to warm earth, hungers are sated.
Yesterday the sweat was blinding. I was at the hives for nearly two hours in the seamless heat, talking quietly, taking a little honey, repairing frames and delicately transferring one family of 50,000 from one broken hive to another, newly repaired. Only a tiny few lost their patience with me.
Ella was at my side. We finished, gave thanks and wandered away as slowly as we had come, brushing the last remaining bees from the heavy frames in our hands. Joe helped in the farmhouse hall with the spinning, and then Maggie and I filled an assortment of jars with more than 25lbs of chestnut dark, simple goodness that will last us the year as well as afford us the joy of gifting to friends. Always seek raw honey from untreated mixed farms with healthy hedgerows if you can, where the bees have a host of options, a chance to thrive away from mono crops. Honey that has not been heated or processed in any way contains natural vitamins, enzymes, powerful antioxidants and vital natural nutrients.
After our labour scores of bees filled the air close to the barn door where, on a yet to be cleared work bench, Joe and I had been repairing frames and affixing the sheets of wax. As I put tools away and tidied the surplus frames, smiling Ella wandered slowly through the thick air, simply attired for a cooling dip in the pool.
I took myself off up the land, through the eye-height fennel and shin-tickling growth. We have set a fourth hive in the almond grove. No residents yet, but I will put a spun-but-not-spent honey frame in with the new wax sheets as an invitation, a welcome. The bees will come, for sure. Also patiently waiting for signs of their arrival were the iridescent bee-eaters, decorating a pine. Their numbers grow, yet somehow all is in balance. The humming of the honey-makers swells in equal measure.
PS: See our Mother’s Garden Facebook page for Maggie’s latest summer recipe. We’d be delighted, too, if you were able to share the news, blogs, recipes and fresh olive oil from Mother’s Garden.
Midsummer, languid, the day stirred by the faintest breath of eastern breeze. Look closer and our Earthly peers, the multitude of insects, birds and mammals, are drinking in the zest of the mellow first hour of long shadows.
Golden oriels warble and whizz through the pines. A pair of hedge sparrows has left the family shoal and the security of the reef of holly oaks and wild olives next to the chicken run to make whoopee on a windowsill. Oxygen is alive with winged wonders and I have clocked my first western marbled white butterfly of the year.
I potter with the terriers Ted and Tilly on loose leads. They know the rhythm. I water and talk to my sapling olives and then dwell happily in the vegetables. Maggie joins me and we harvest runner beans, a moment of the greatest cerebral sustenance. For years we have tried to grow runner beans. They always reach for the sky, flower but fail. Last year I couldn’t even be bothered to pull up the roots.
But this year those old plants shot again. I watered and sprayed them, building another bamboo frame, enjoying the meditation but not holding out much hope. It is too hot here, too dry, however much I give them to drink, or so we thought. Maybe that is the secret. Don’t plant seedlings, but leave the old plants to die back, to come again and again.
New red pontiac potatoes jewel our plates. It has been a very good root crop year, for a change, and the wild boar have not come a calling.
The paths and track, remoulded by the crashing storm last week, harden again. Memories of the trauma are slipping away, but we must go to a neighbours to pick her ripening apricots that were pitted by the hail.
Our storm-blasted village made national television news. Hail in late June and the most rainfall anywhere in Spain in the last decade. Farmers in our valley face grim grape and olive harvests this autumn. We too, but our vast fig trees seem to have offered a little protection to the vines. We shall see. My pulse has settled again. What will be will be.
Another storm is coming, but of the human variety. In towns and along the coast road bright shacks have appeared like pop-up kitchens in London parks. Only they are peddling deafening wares – explosives for the all-night firework festival of Sant Joan, from nightfall today to birdsong and ambulance sirens on tomorrow.
Already piles of combustible rubbish are growing in villages and naughty boys are lobbing bangers in the streets, the portent of thunderous fun and roaring fires on the one summer night in the year when firemen and medics are particularly twitchy. Like running before the bulls, the risks never stop the ritual, the upholding of Iberic traditions that defy caution and define identity. Let’s hope no flames are fanned and that our luck holds.
I must go and post an olive oil recipe. Maggie has been making parsley oil, perfect for our new potatoes, for marinating meats and simply for spooning on to her fresh bread. Quick and simple goodness, and such flavour. Mmmm.
If you would like some fresh olive oil, let us know.
STOCK UP FOR SUMMER FEASTS AND SNACKS – we have a new supply of fresh, award-winning extra virgin olive oil from our village mill in Britain now for immediately delivery.
More and for foodies who want the finest, freshest cold pressed arbequina extra virgin olive oil at a sensible price, bursting with goodness and flavour and with exceptionally low acidity, are joining our customer list.
Try it for yourself.
And for orders over £100 (why not share a delivery with family or friends?) we will refund you the delivery cost, meaning you can get our fresh oil for as little as £7.50 a litre.
Provenance, quality and freshness – trust the tree that is Mother’s Garden.
WHY FRESHNESS MATTERS.
If you just have a question and not an order that’s great too. Just ask.
Or come and see us here in The Priorat, Catalonia and experience Mother’s Garden. We have a few holiday cottage weeks left unbooked in May, June and July.
Keep well. Eat well.