Ingredient: Olives of Puglia. Liquid Sunlight and the Kingdom of the Olive

Fly over Puglia and what you see below isn’t just countryside — it’s an ocean of silver-green.
Millions upon millions of olive trees stretch as far as the eye can see, their twisted trunks sculpted by time, their canopies shimmering like fish scales under the southern sun. From the Gargano in the north to the sunburned tip of Salento, Puglia is one continuous grove — the largest in Italy, and one of the most ancient in the world.

Here, olive oil isn’t just an ingredient. It’s blood, economy, and ritual. It defines the region’s flavor, its culture, even its pace of life. And lately, alongside the famous golden oil, something else has been making a comeback — the table olive itself, in all its seductive, briny glory.

Where the Trees Have Memories

Ask a Puglian how old their olive trees are and they’ll smile: “Vecchie come le famiglie.” — “As old as the families.”
They’re not exaggerating. Some trees in Puglia date back more than two thousand years. Their trunks are thick and gnarled, like frozen smoke, their roots tangled in red earth. Many were planted by the Greeks, nurtured by the Romans, and still harvested by hand today.

The oldest and most majestic are found around Ostuni, Monopoli, and Carovigno, where UNESCO has even listed parts of the ancient groves as heritage landscapes. Each tree has a name, a lineage, a legend.

In these groves, time isn’t counted in years but in harvests.

The Golden Thread Through History

Olive oil arrived in Puglia with the ancient Greeks around the 8th century BCE, and it quickly became the region’s lifeblood. The Romans expanded production dramatically, exporting vast amphorae of Puglian oil across the empire — to Gaul, Africa, even Britannia.

Archaeological digs near Fasano and Taranto reveal ancient trappeti (underground oil mills) carved into limestone, where donkeys once walked in circles, crushing the fruit. The walls are still stained with the faint scent of oil.

By the Middle Ages, monasteries controlled most of the groves, and oil was used not only for cooking but also for lighting lamps and making soap. In 18th-century Bari, it was traded in gold-like quantities; in Lecce, entire noble fortunes were built on it. And today, it remains the foundation of the region’s economy — Puglia produces nearly half of Italy’s total olive oil output.

The Landscape of Flavor: Four Great Territories

Olive oil in Puglia isn’t one thing — it’s a mosaic of terroirs, varieties, and traditions.

• Terra di Bari – The heartland of production, where Coratina olives dominate. The oil is assertive, green, peppery, and high in antioxidants — the bold personality of central Puglia.
• Terra d’Otranto (Salento) – Lighter and sweeter, often from Cellina di Nardò and Ogliarola Salentina varieties. These oils are rounder, fruitier, sometimes with hints of almond and artichoke.
• Dauno (Foggia & Gargano) – Northerly oils from Peranzana and Rotondella varieties; more balanced, golden, and floral.
• Collina di Brindisi – A smaller zone with complex, spicy oils from mixed groves.

Each region has its PDO (Protected Designation of Origin) status, a modern legal echo of millennia-old pride.

Coratina: The Fiery Queen

If there’s one olive that defines Puglia, it’s Coratina. Grown mostly around Bari and Andria, it produces an oil so pungent and peppery that the uninitiated might cough. That cough is the mark of quality — a tiny punch of polyphenols, antioxidants that give it longevity and power.

Locals say, “If it doesn’t make you cough, it’s not Coratina.”

It’s an oil for people who like attitude. Drizzle it over grilled vegetables, beans, or even gelato — yes, gelato — and it transforms the dish. It’s not shy, but then again, neither is Puglia.

The Gentle Side: Ogliarola and Cellina

For balance, southern Puglia offers the mellower Ogliarola Salentina and Cellina di Nardò. Their oils are golden and delicate, perfect for seafood or pastry doughs. The two are often blended, creating harmony in the bottle — a literal marriage of north and south within the region.

In Salento, olive oil is often used even in desserts — shortcrust cookies, almond cakes, and fried sweets. The result is subtle richness without heaviness. Where northern Italy reaches for butter, Puglia answers with oil.

The Other Olive Stars: Beyond the Bottle

While oil is the main act, the supporting cast — the table olives — are equally extraordinary.

Bella di Cerignola: The World’s Most Glamorous Olive

No olive makes an entrance like the Bella di Cerignola. Enormous, plump, and impossibly shiny, it looks like it should have its own publicist. Originating from the town of Cerignola in northern Puglia, it’s the largest olive variety in the world — more fruit than pit.

Its flesh is sweet, buttery, and crisp, often preserved in light brine that enhances rather than overwhelms. Traditionally, Bellas were cured in huge terracotta jars called capasoni, sealed with olive oil to prevent air contact.

Today, they’re PDO-protected and adored by chefs worldwide. You’ll find them on antipasto platters from Milan to Manhattan — the olive equivalent of a movie star comeback.

Fun fact: during the 19th century, they were served to European royalty as a delicacy. Queen Victoria reportedly had them shipped to her London table.

Peranzana: The Dual-Purpose Beauty

Further north, near Foggia, the Peranzana olive rules. Medium-sized and deeply aromatic, it’s prized for both oil and table use. Its oil is smooth and balanced — green apple, almond, sometimes a whisper of tomato leaf — while the brined olives themselves have a complex, winey flavor.

The name Peranzana likely comes from “Provenzana,” a nod to French settlers who brought the variety during the Angevin rule of the 13th century. It’s a reminder of how Puglia’s cuisine has always been a dialogue between cultures.

Termite di Bitetto and Leccino: The Local Favorites

Around Bari, smaller local varieties like Termite di Bitetto and Leccino are common at family tables — less famous, but beloved. They’re the olives you find in bread (pane alle olive), tossed into pasta, or eaten straight from the jar with a splash of wine on the side.

Every household seems to have its own recipe for curing them: some with wild fennel, others with orange peel or chili. The ritual is part culinary, part communal, part superstition.

Making the Oil: From Olive to Alchemy

Harvest season begins in late October and runs through December. Families gather with nets, ladders, and baskets. The sound of olives hitting the ground — a soft, rhythmic rain — fills the groves.

Once picked, the race begins: olives must be pressed within 24 hours to avoid oxidation. The best oils come from cold pressing — low temperatures that preserve aroma and nutrients. Modern mills use steel centrifuges, but the principles are the same as in Roman times: crush, separate, store in dark, cool places.

Every bottle of good oil carries the story of that rush — the effort to capture freshness before time takes its toll.

The Taste of Puglia in a Drop

Tasting olive oil is a serious art here. Locals sip it from blue glass cups that hide the color (so judgment comes only from smell and flavor). They warm it in their hands, inhale deeply, and then take a noisy slurp to aerate it — like wine tasting, but with more conviction.

Good Puglian oil tastes alive: notes of grass, tomato leaf, green almond, artichoke. It starts fruity, turns bitter in the middle, and finishes with a peppery kick that makes your throat tingle. That’s not a flaw — it’s the oil’s heartbeat.

Between Crisis and Revival

In recent years, Puglia’s olive heritage has faced one of its greatest challenges: Xylella fastidiosa, a bacterial disease that has devastated millions of trees, particularly in Salento. The sight of withered groves has been heartbreaking — entire landscapes turned grey.

But the response has been extraordinary. Farmers, scientists, and cooperatives have united to replant resistant varieties, promote biodiversity, and restore abandoned land. Out of crisis, a new generation of olive growers has emerged — younger, more experimental, but deeply rooted in tradition.

Organic and regenerative farming are on the rise. Some producers are even turning old olive wood from dead trees into art, furniture, and sculpture — giving new life to what was lost.

From the Groves to the Stars

In the kitchens of Puglia’s finest restaurants, olive oil has finally taken its rightful place: not as background, but as protagonist.

At Osteria del Tempo Perso in Ostuni, a drizzle of single-estate Coratina finishes every dish — even desserts. At Due Camini in Savelletri, chef Domenico Schingaro serves tasting flights of oils alongside bread as if they were fine wines. And in the new wave of Bari bistros, olive oil bars are popping up, offering guided tastings that celebrate local producers.

Meanwhile, global chefs — Massimo Bottura among them — source Puglian oil for its complexity and power. It’s gone from everyday necessity to gourmet signature, without losing its rural soul.

Fun (and True) Facts

• Puglia has over 60 million olive trees — more than 10 for every resident.
• The Bella di Cerignola can weigh up to 12 grams per olive (a record).
• In Bari, it’s bad luck to spill olive oil — unless you immediately rub it on your hands.
• The average Puglian consumes 20–25 liters of olive oil a year.
• Some families still keep a small bottle of the first-pressed oil from each harvest for good luck, using it only on Christmas Eve.

Liquid Sunlight, Living Heritage

Olive oil is to Puglia what wine is to Tuscany — a landscape turned edible. But while Tuscany’s hills whisper refinement, Puglia’s groves shout endurance. Each drop of oil here carries centuries of sunlight, labor, and stubborn beauty.

Taste it raw — fiery and green — and you understand this land immediately: generous, unfiltered, alive.
Taste the olives — salty, meaty, joyful — and you taste its humor, its warmth, its appetite for life.

From the glossy Bella di Cerignola to the fierce Coratina, from the ancient groves of Ostuni to the modern mills of Andria, Puglia remains what it has always been:
a place where the humble olive becomes gold, and simplicity turns into something eternal.