The journey of most grocery-store olive oil is long and murky: farm to cooperative, cooperative to broker, broker to blender, blender to bottler, bottler to warehouse, warehouse to shelf. Somewhere along that chain, freshness is lost and identity dissolves.
The Posterino path is short enough to walk. It begins on our family’s groves in San Procopio, in the province of Reggio Calabria, where the olives are picked by hand at the moment we judge them ready. From the branch, they travel not to a port but to our own frantoio, where they are milled within six to twelve hours of harvest. The oil is extracted cold — no heat to bruise its aromatics — and rests in stainless steel tanks flushed with nitrogen, protected from the oxygen that ages oil before its time.
Then it is bottled, on the estate, by the family that grew it, and sent to you. No brokers, no blending floors, no anonymous middle. From our trees to your table, Posterino travels one road — the same one our family has walked for six generations.
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