The veg garden has been stripped of its drip irrigation, the vines have shed most of their leaves so are now ready for pruning, and the cooling breeze from the Serra da Estrela is now a less welcome chilly wind. Winter is here.

It would be nice to sit in our lovely granite house, shut the doors and light the fire, and settle in. But this will not be yet. To cut a very long story short, it took from May to October, six months, of pushing carpenters to get two external oak doors made and fitted.

Pic: the front door and its frame in hallway prior to fitting,  Zé discussing the hinges with Clive.

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In order to fit security shutters as the French do I had to make the brackets myself, as we were unable to find them in any shop – my dad, who worked with metal all his life, would have been proud of me!

The finished doors with their secure shutters look lovely and we’re very pleased with them. Next we need internal doors.  The cost of buying them ready-made from a supplier and finishing them ourselves is not far off the cost of having Zé the carpenter make tham, so we will take the easy (?) route and have now asked  him to estimate the cost of making and fitting five internal doors; we called in to his workshop and he said he will start on them “next year”!

Pic: 140 kilos of olives for winnowing with the hand-powered machine. I tip the olives into the top and Janet cranks the handle round. In the cylinder are eight blades which whirl to blow the olive leaves off the fruit, which is shaken through a moving riddle onto the sloping chute and into the red collector on the floor.

We harvested the olives from 23 trees in five days at the end of November, and after cleaning them in our winnowing machine we took 222 kilos of olives to the lagar (place where the olives are crushed with big millstones to extract the oil) on Friday afternoon. Once they were delivered and weighed we were given a receipt and told that we should return in a week when our olives had been assayed for their oil content and enough of the new oil would be pressed for distribution. Rain started that evening and we had to wait a week until the rain cleared before it was safe to recommence the harvest.

Pic: rained off, leaving the prunings in lines ready for chopping into a mulch with the brushcutter on the back of my tractor.

Late November’s week of snow in the UK was a belt of rain in Portugal, and when it passed the clear skies, high light levels and sunny weather returned. We picked olives while the sun shone, and after five days picking from nine in the morning until dusk we had harvested another 200 kilos.

We winnowed them as the sun set, and the next day loaded them into the car and drove twenty miles to the lagar. 

Central and southern Portugal are clad in olive trees. Formerly there was a lagar in every village (ours had one, and the next was three miles away) and the olives were taken there in donkey-drawn carts to be pressed. Nowadays most have had to close because of EEC regulations (although the oil was always of top quality as it is a staple food, produced without chemical treatments). Consequently most home producers arrange for a friend with a pickup truck to take their olives to one of the few remaining lagars up to twenty five miles away. Since the catchment areas have increased from maybe ten square miles to six hundred, the pressure on them has also increased at least fifty-fold. Furthermore, it is uneconomical for these large lagars to press small loads so they set a guideline minimum of 200 kilos delivered. The little old ladies who are subsistence farming therefore have to use the service of some local farmer who will aggregate their crops into one load and deal with it.

Pic: our washed olives conveyed for weighing, see blog from Dec 08.

The queue for pressing was long, so we went food shopping and had an early lunch before returning and joining the line of lorries, pickup trucks and tractors with trailers. After several hours we learned that the lagar was overwhelmed with olives and was struggling to deal with the tonnages arriving. The sun set and the temperature began to drop. We were twenty-third in the line on arrival and could only move with it. We were cold and hungry (early lunch!) and slowly the line advanced. At 7.30 we passed through the yard gates where there were still eight vehicles in front of us.

The lagar had devised a method of simply washing and weighing half the clients’ loads whilst processing the other clients’ olives. Ours were not processed, and we were given a second receipt to reclaim in oil in a week. We left the lagar shortly before 10pm, chilled to the marrow and beyond hunger.

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