Starbucks have announced a new range of coffees, under the name Oleato, where coffee and extra virgin olive oil are blended into various drinks. The idea originally came from former Starbucks CEO Howard Schulz who, having on holiday learned that some Sicilians drink a shot of olive oil in the morning and later a coffee, decided to combine the two.
Here, Clare Finney and David Ellis take a sip.
Clare’s experience
I like to think I am an open-minded soul – at least so far as food and drink go. Fashion is a different matter. I’d sooner try jellified sea moss than cargo pants; chocolate orange mayo than a sheer crop top; and coffee blended with ice and olive oil than a five-way cut-out dress. Which is in part how I’m here, in the Hornchurch branch of Starbucks, surrounded by olive trees, preparing to taste their latest range, Oleato: a combination of arabica coffee and their bespoke blend of extra-virgin olive oil. I’m here because I’m being paid, of course — which is more than I would be for modelling cargo pants — but I’m also here because I am genuinely intrigued.
I love olive oil, the more extra the better. Obviously, being a journalist, I love coffee. I’d be lying if I said Starbucks was my go-to coffee shop, but it is leagues better than most of the chains. Both olives and coffee beans are an encapsulation of time and place — terroir, as it is known — and the quality of the end result lives or dies by the processing. Like single origin coffee, single-origin olive oil reflects where the olives are grown, the weather conditions at the time, when and how they were harvested and how they were subsequently processed — all of which makes them more natural bedfellows than they might seem.
At least, so the theory goes. We’re here to taste the practice, which on first sight seems to be literally coming apart: you can tell from the slight separation of liquids which coffee has olive oil in it. The Oleato golden foam cold brew has a shimmering yellow sheen; the Oleato iced shaken espresso has glistening beads of gold. It’s not unattractive, it’s just not what you’d expect from daily Joe. The Oleato Caffè Latte, made with oat milk rather than regs because the development team felt it would balance the flavour better, is the most cohesive drink — but I don’t like oat milk, so I’m poorly placed to judge this one. I like my coffee and porridge separately, not all in one.
The same is true of my coffee and olive oil — or so I would have said prior to this experience. I’m not averse to sipping the latter straight up, and indeed it is the Sicilian practice of taking a spoonful of olive oil each morning that gave rise to Starbucks’ latest invention — but I’m not convinced by one-time Starbucks CEO Howard Schulz’s belief that two of Italy’s great culinary traditions, espresso and olive oil, can become one. Then again, I would have thought this of gelato and chocolate and olive oil, but Gelupo’s olive oil, rosemary and salt number is a revelation. Ditto Nigella’s olive oil chocolate cake. Perhaps coffee and olive oil is not so bad, or mad, after all.
And so it proves: not the Oleato oat milk latte, nor the Oleato iced shaken espresso, but the Oleato cold brew, which proves my favourite. That golden foam is not unpleasant — indeed they’ve trademarked it — and as in olive oil gelato, the milky sweetness of the foam balances the oil’s spicy, savoury kick. I could have managed a whole one, had I not already had a cappuccino that morning, and been well pleased with having smashed some monounsaturated fats and anti-oxidants with my coffee. It’s not for everyone, but open-minded souls who love olive oil should give it a go.
David’s experience
When a pal — Finney’s a colleague but she’s a pal as well — drops you a line and says “coffee with olive oil in it. Fancy giving it a go?” you begin to have doubts about just how long this acquaintanceship can be allowed to carry on. And yet for reasons that remain elusive to me, instead of quietly deleting the email, blocking her number and expunging her byline from the site — as any rational sort might have been expected to do — I instead write back: Fabulous! Yes! Let’s!
You can see how a gentle case of self-loathing gets going. Last week I did find some consolation in the news that some mad German has invented a powdered beer — you spoon the stuff into tap water, in a mimicry of powdered milk (and just as alcoholic; said inventor can’t yet powder the fun) — so guess which colleague/pal I’ll be making try that? Finney, you’re done for.
Anyway. Barring the brief period where I drank cups of it daily to counteract a self-inflicted case of wasting away — I’d spent five foolhardy weeks touring India thinking cigarettes were a substitute for food — olive oil has never played what I’d call a starring role in my life, at least not in the way it seems to have done for Finney. It’s just… always been there on the counter top. Sometimes in various hues — were these flush months? Did those really happen? — and some bottles squat, some tall, the odd baby jerrycan that, improbably, always cost more than a full glass bottle. But it’s never been something I’ve caught out of the corner of a tired morning eye and thought: now that looks the perfect dance partner for my espresso (oil-spresso?). The combo feels not just irregular but unnecessary; wouldn’t De’Longhis would come with Extra Virgin buttons if they were called for?
It’s not an opinion I’ve been lassoed from. There’s an iced number that kicks things off — Oleato golden foam cold brew — whereupon we realise our “blind tasting” premise is about as useful as a pair of butter handcuffs. It’s obvious which is which; the oil sits on the top like fake tan washed off in a pool. We trepidatiously dive in and emerge well-oiled, but not in the long lunch way. The drink is actually surprisingly good: the oil seems to give the iced coffee a new well of depth. The oil lashes the throat afterwards; it is not entirely unpleasant. As a curio, I admire it. As a curio.
Two more follow, and with the first sip of the second I realise: Ellis hits oil fatigue surprisingly swiftly. My “Do Not Fill Above This Line” sits at the depth of a teardrop. I think this says as much about me as Starbucks; certainly the second drink, the Oleato iced shaken espresso, seems well put together, but by now I can feel the oil pooling on my lips, and I begin to sip nervously. The caffè latte? Olive oi’d-rather-not, actually,but perhaps, just as with Finney, this is the oat milk as much as anything. Or perhaps it’s the fact that three of anything in a row can often be tiresome.
In truth, adding olive oil to coffee is neither ruinous or revolutionary. It is one of those unnecessary innovations that comes along every now and again (coffee has form here — see coffee bags). Sometimes they take off, sometimes not. I just hope Pret don’t start muscling in on the act.
