Diary of a Shopkeeper, 16th February

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, the news fills up with yet more political dishonesty and misrepresentation. Let’s turn with relief to something we can rely on: our strictly factual A to Z of deli food and drink. Today, the letters are O, P and Q.

O is actually a double O, for Olive Oil. Or, to give it its full initials EVOO for Extra Virgin Olive Oil. There are many different edible oils, from sunflower to rapeseed to avocado. But around the Mediterranean, olive oil has been the most highly prized for millennia. And the popularity of the diet of that area – with its focus on vegetables, whole grains, small quantities of meat, and the occasional glass of red wine – has spread the love of olive oil worldwide.

Making olive oil is hard work. Harvesting the olives (often in the punishing blaze of a southern sun) usually involves spreading a net or plastic sheet under a tree, and raking the branches till the olives fall to the ground. There then follows a lengthy process of grinding, mostly with modern steel equipment but sometimes with ancient millstones that have been doing the job for 2,000 years. The length of grind time and the temperature the paste rises to, is crucial in extracting the finest flavours and most nutrients. I’ve watched this process at a winery in Tuscany: the oil pouring out from between the millstones was the greenest thing I’ve seen in my life. The air filled with an intoxicating grassy aroma, a rival to the wonderful smells of Chianti in the barrel hall next door.

Oil produced like this is classed as Virgin Olive Oil, and is the only version worth using. The best fraction of it is elevated to Extra Virgin status, and is the fullest in flavour of all. It’s expensive, but all you need to do is dribble some over your fish or chicken or veg and you have a ready-made sauce of utter deliciousness. Once the good oil has been drained off, the remaining mass, called pomace, can be treated with heat and chemicals to squeeze a little more oil out of it. But this is lacking in both flavour and the monounsaturates that make EVOO good for your health. I’m afraid this really is a case of getting what you pay for: expensive EVOO is worth every penny, while cheap, chemically-treated oil isn’t worth the calories. Which is better value?

Every Pecorino I’ve ever tasted is great value. It’s one of the most consistent cheeses we sell: unlike some that vary from season to season, Pecorino is delicious year-round. It’s made with sheep’s milk – the Italian for sheep is pecora – and can be sold either young (fresco) aged for a short time (semi-stagionato) or aged for many months (stagionato.)

A very mature Pecorino makes a fantastic grating cheese, essential for authentic carbonara and cacio e pepe. I’m not usually a fan of cheeses flavoured with the addition of other ingredients, but there’s a long tradition of adding truffle flakes to semi-stagionato Pecorino, and it’s become a favourite in our shop. And of course Pecorino is wonderful on a cheeseboard. A traditional accompaniment is chestnut honey: a dribble of that sweet, bitter nectar over a slice of tart, creamy Pecorino is a match made in paradiso.

Another accompaniment that works very well is our Q: quince paste, or dulce de membrillo as it’s called in Spain. While the British Isles tradition is to bring a sweet and sour tang to the cheeseboard with chutney or pickles, in Spain it’s this tawny jelly, firm and slightly sticky to the touch. It contrasts beautifully with the sharp nuttiness of the Spanish sheep’s cheese, Manchego, and is great with Pecorino too.

I first came across membrillo while on a wine-buying trip to Spain. Breakfast at our budget hotel was DIY: you boiled your own eggs and made your own toast. You could also help yourself to slices of ham and cheese, and at the end of the buffet table, a sign announced MARMALADE. I’d never seen marmalade that stood upright in a solid cube and had to be sliced, but I thought I’d give it a go. It didn’t work well spread on toast – well, it wouldn’t spread – but was a wonderful accompaniment to the slice of Manchego I munched on while I waited for my egg to boil. Our Spanish winemaker guide explained that the English word marmalade comes from the old Galician word marmelo, meaning quince. Both marmelo and membrillo derive from the Latin melimelum, meaning sweet apple.

It’s been a regular in our cheese fridge ever since, and I hardly ever bore our customers with the derivation of its name – even if it is 100% factually correct.

The sheep’s-cheese-and-membrillo image comes from an interesting Irish/Mediterranean food blog, Lettercollum Kitchen Project, which sadly seems not to be posting any more.

This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 20th February 2025. A new diary appears weekly. I post them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations, and occasional small corrections or additions.