Some of the most significant ideas — transformative, provocative, fundamental to our pursuit of knowledge — sparked from the most routine moments.
Consider Einstein, slumped in a tram, glancing up at a clock tower and realizing the theory of relativity. Or how about Newton? He was merely avoiding work, loitering under an apple tree when a startling bump on the noggin caused him to perceive — and then likely rue — the force of gravity.
And then there’s Randy Brown. While on vacation in Greece a couple decades ago he paused under an olive tree. Feeling the breeze rustling through the leaves, watching the fruit sway, he was struck by a powerful notion.
“I thought, ‘This is what I want to do,’” he recalled.
OK, so Randy Brown’s moment may not quite measure up to Newton’s. But without his brief reverie under the tree, we would miss out on Brown’s Olivopolis Tuscan blend olive oil.
It greets you with a kindly wave. Some sweet grass and light herbal notes traipse across the palate, fanning out as a measure of cracked black pepper enters. The finish is long and compelling, with more bittersweet spice and grassy fruit swirling into a mellow, nutty memory.
The experience is pleasing enough, but the truly remarkable feature — that thing that forces you to pause and ponder and come to the realization that years of carelessly reaching for canola, peanut, vegetable (if you even admit that) and other plebeian oils can never be recovered — is Olivopolis’ viscous, weighty, opulent texture.
It’s as if the oil were cashmere draped over your palate, with yarn in colors balanced and complementary.
Ask Brown about this gorgeous aspect and he hems about the plot of land, located along Jerusalem Grade and fortunately untouched by the summer fires, or the character of the fruit.
He blends five Tuscan varietals, harvested at the same time. Frantoio lends the grassy, nutty flavors. Leccino contributes a mild sweetness. Meanwhile Moraiolo is noted for its hearty pepper. These are the most prominent notes, within which the balance teeters slightly from year to year.
“Last year there was not a lot of Leccino,” Brown explained. “You try to prune to even it out, but there are still variations. We had one batch that was about 75 percent Frantoio. You could really tell the difference.”
Brown was drawn to Lake County in part because of the existing olive oil producers and their potential. He now fills 1,000 bottles a year of the Olivopolis Tuscan blend and will soon add individual varietals.
“It’s an up and coming foodstuff,” Brown said. “People are realizing there’s a big difference between these and what you find on grocery shelves.”
So like Newton, he is on to something. Yeah, yeah — maybe not as critical to our understanding of the universe, but certainly more interesting at the table.
Dave Faries can be reached at 900-2016
