When life gives you olives, make olive oil. That's exactly what a group of neighbours on the outskirts of Paris have done – turning fruit from their garden trees that was dropping to waste into the region's very first olive oil.
The Paris region already produces its own beer, wine and cheese. Thanks to the ambition of residents in the southern suburb of Malakoff, it can now add olive oil to that list – a modest 50 litres, but it marks a beginning.
“Born to be Olive” isn't available in the shops but has been shared out between the olive growers and those who supported the fundraising operation, says Vincent Chevrier, the brains behind the project.
He invites me to dip a piece of bread into the yellow liquid with a hint of green. It's light and fruity.
"I think it's quite complex," says Chevrier. "It's not filtered so it's a pure, natural, organic product with a hint of acidity which is very pleasant. And what's incredible is that it's the result of all the olives we received – over 40 different varieties.”
Chevrier struck on the “slightly absurd” idea of making local olive oil about a year ago while walking through his home-town of Malakoff and noticing that many houses had olive trees like his own.
“We don't have a mill so we can't process them here in Paris,” he explains. “It’s a bit daft to lose your fruit, and since we can’t do anything individually with a handful of olives, a few kilos at most, I thought we should try and get everyone together.”
He began knocking on people’s doors whenever he saw a tree in the front garden. "To date, we've counted more than 120 trees in two square kilometres."
A Facebook page helped to spread the word and the Malakolives collective was formed. A few months ago they launched a crowdfunding project to buy equipment to both harvest and press the fruit.
The €1,900 raised was enough to buy an electric rake, nets, a grinder and an olive press.
More on this story in the Spotlight on France podcast, episode 121, listen here.
The harvest began in late October.
“I’ve never done it before,” says Géraldine Deschamps, combing the branches of her tree with the electric rake. It's hardly a bumper crop but she says there's a certain "magic" knowing her olives will be transformed into oil.
Further down the road, Catherine and Michel's garden is carpeted with olives. The retired couple planted their tree when they moved to Malakoff 20 years ago. This year it's produced around 10 kilograms.
“I don’t even like olives,” Catherine admits. “My husband puts them in brine each year and I don’t eat them. But I do like cooking with olive oil, usually from Greece. Now I'll be able to use homemade oil.”
Parisian olive trees
Chevrier identified olive trees not just in Malakoff, but in neighbouring towns like Vanves and Chatillon – places where there are still houses (and therefore gardens), and stable communities to keep them going.
While olive growing is typically Mediterranean, the trees adapt well to northern France's often damp and grey climate.
“You can plant olive trees in very arid climates with little soil, that's why they were adapted to the Mediterranean climate," Chevrier explains. "But in the rich soil in the north of France it could be even better. You can have very successful olive production around Paris and the more water they have the more fruit they'll produce!"
Pressing the oil
The collective gathered 550 kilograms from 80 trees. On a Saturday in mid-December, locals brought olives of all shapes, sizes and hues to Malakoff's urban farm for pressing.
On the forecourt, the fruit is ground into a sludgy paste, then heated to help release the oil.
Inside the wooden chalet, the paste is spread out on wicker type mats known as scourtin then pressed until the oil and olive liquid seep out.
“It’s very slow,” laughs Chevrier, watching drops of glistening oil drip down into a jerry can.
Getting to this point involved a lot of trial and error and "testing in the basement" to iron out difficulties, but he says he can now help train others in making olive oil the artisanal way.
Guillaume Vens is all ears for insider tips. He brought along 80 kilograms of olives from 15 neighbours in La Garenne Colombes, 10 kilometres away.
Tired of putting his olives in brine, Vens discovered the Malakolives project – which "opened the door" to oil-making.
He hopes to improve on the "nails and bamboo" fork he made for harvesting. "They have better equipment here," he jokes.
Community spirit
Learning to make olive oil is a learning curve, but people are also drawn to working together as a community and developing the circular economy.
"If we want to be food self-sufficient, we have to produce locally," says David Fayon, plumping down bag of olives from his two trees. "This project has a lifecycle, from the concept to the realisation and you harvest the fruit in every sense. On a human level there's something really attractive about it."
Harvesting 'Red Gold' on the rooftops of Paris
For Joanna Delaney, an instructor at the Malakoff urban farm, the project creates links between people locally in a way ordinary commerce doesn't. "This is a different type of consumption because you're consuming something you made together with your neighbours. That's what I love about it," she says.
Chevrier named the oil "Born to be Olive" – a play on words on the Patrick Hernandez disco hit "Born to be Alive" – and he hopes for increased production next year through better pruning.
“I don't think we'll be able to reach industrial production levels in Malakoff," he admits. "But at least everyone will be able to have a few litres of olive oil in the future.
"The idea is above all to have a good time and meet up with your neighbours.”
Find more on this story in the Spotlight on France podcast, episode 121 listen here.
