Kalamata Olives

About four months ago I was living with a family in the Amazon Rainforest.  I was eating what they ate, worked like they do and was getting eaten by mosquitoes the way they might, if they didn’t have a sixth sense about when they were going to be bitten.  I miss it and think of it often but since then I have had quite a few other adventures.  I have visited Crater Lake, driven across the country, and have lived in Atlanta for a month and a half.  However, I was sitting down to dinner with my partners tonight and as I was eating a wonderful salad with lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, croutons, sunflower seeds, and kalamata olives, I suddenly felt as if I was being pulled into a time warp tunnel back to the Amazon Rainforest four months ago…

We had walked through the forest for two hours, jumped off of a 30 foot waterfall, walked for another hour and a half when one of the brothers from the family led us off the trail to this strange little grove where a tree had been cut down, and from the looks of it, quite a while ago.  With the warm rain falling on us, we watched as the brother took his machete and began to hack away at the next uncut foot of the fallen tree.  As I looked at the tree, I could tell that the tree had been felled for just this purpose, and whatever was living in it wasn’t harvested often.  The tree was tawny in color and in various stages of decomposition, as if only a foot of it was used at a time.  The grove was filed with an unusual, yet familiar scent.  As I was trying to recall what it reminded me of, Jose asked me

“What does this place smell like?” I closed my eyes and concentrated fully on the smell, then said,

The grubs.  Slimy, yet, not satisfying.

“Kalamata olives.”  He nodded in agreement.  As I turned again to the brother hacking away at the fallen tree, I saw that he was pulling grubs from the trunk and suddenly I realized why it had been cut down.  This tree harbored a specific type of insect larvae and by cutting the tree down they could have a predictable source of this nutritious food.  Having had a previous, and not so positive experience, with grubs only a few days before, I declined tasting this culinary delight.  Jose, having enjoyed his first grub, took one, popped it into his mouth, and chewed viciously (the outside of grubs are very chewy).  As we walked away with a leaf bundle of grubs to take home, Jose says,

“Those tasted like kalamata olives a little, like the tree I guess.”

“The tree was probably starting to ferment, and the grubs eat the tree.”  I replied.  Nodding his head he said,

“I liked the other ones better.  They were creamier.”

Now, four months later, I am still reminded of that grove, the way the scent of the fermenting tree filled the air around us, and Jose’s frank evaluation of the grubs every time I eat kalamata olives.  In time this memory association may fade, but part of me doesn’t really want it to.  However, I’m tired of thinking of grubs every time I bite into something delicious with a piece of kalamata olive in it.