“Yes, and it has been for generations,” she confirms. “We’re all very passionate about this oil, we use it at every meal. If everyone in the world consumed as much olive oil as my family, we’d be very rich.” She grins satisfactorily as Jamie and I chuckle. “The farm where this is made is near San Gimignano.”
“I bet it’s beautiful,” I say wistfully.
“I’m biased, but it’s not bad. You get some good sunsets. I’m actually getting married there next year,” she adds bashfully.
“Really? Congratulations!”
“Are you serving olive oil instead of wine at the wedding?” Jamie quips, looking pleased at himself for such a joke. It’s quite cute.
“No need to choose, because we actually produce wine, too,” she informs him.
“Wine and olive oil,” I sigh, “what more could you want?”
“Bread,” Jamie answers, before nodding toward the slice in my hand. “It’s time to taste. I’m excited to hear your opinion.”
I tear off a piece from my slice and hand Jamie the remaining bit, which he takes gratefully. I pick up the small paper cup and give it a sniff, as instructed, before dunking my bread in and letting it drip into the taster pot, careful not to get any on my dress. Jamie does the same.
“Cheers!” he says.
“Cheers!” I reply, before taking a bite. I chew and then turn to Jamie, speaking through my mouthful. “Oh my god.”
“I know!” he replies wide-eyed, also still chewing.
“This is… incredible!”
“I know!”
Nicola laughs as I dip my remaining bread into my taster pot again, going for another bite. It really is the most delicious olive oil, so much flavor, smooth and buttery. The taste makes me think of Italy. I can see the family farm bathed in a warm, golden hue from a stunning sunset, long wooden tables set up for a wedding, the bride looking effortlessly chic and whimsical in a simple, floaty dress with flowers in her hair, the groom in a light suit, laughing with their family and friends, drinking crisp white wine, with a band playing in the background. I can picture it perfectly.
“I see the olive oil has put you in a daze,” Jamie laughs, snapping me out of my vision. “That good, right?”
“It really is. Thank you, Nicola, and congratulations on the wedding,” I say, gratefully taking the napkin she’s offered. My cheeks flush as I feel strangely embarrassed about how one bite of good olive oil could cause me to lose myself in a romantic fantasy of a place I’ve never been.
The ceremony is about to start, so we thank Nicola again and make our way down the hall.
“Thank you for introducing that oil into my life,” I say to Jamie, using my fingers to check I don’t have any crumbs round my mouth.
“You’re welcome. Good luck in your categories this evening.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “You’re wishing Suttworth good luck?”
“I’m wishing good luck to those drink brands and the passionate, brilliant people behind them,” he corrects, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile. “And, I suppose, although I’m not wishing good luck to Suttworth, I will wish it for you.”
“I feel honored. Good luck to Dancing Bear, too. If you win anything, Suttworth might consider buying you.”
He gives me a look. “That’s not funny.”
“Have a good night, Jamie.” I smile, before heading over toward my table, leaving him to make his way to the other side of the room to his.
It ends up being a really fun event, and not just because one of our new brands won bottle design, but because it’s nice to hang out with colleagues outside of the office in a relaxed atmosphere, where you can chat about things other than work. I was disappointed for Jamie that Dancing Bear didn’t win the IPA category, but the fact that it was nominated is brilliant publicity for an independent and maybe he was secretly pleased after my parting comment. I didn’t have the chance to ask him, because I left as soon as the ceremony finished, not wanting to stay on for drinks with a long day of meetings tomorrow. I tried looking for him to say goodbye, but either he was lost in the crowd somewhere or had already left himself.
I do owe him a thank-you, though, because the next day I’m sitting at my desk, looking over my notes of campaign ideas for Bodacious Gin, a British brand on my books that needs a fresh new angle, when I’m suddenly hit with a wave of inspiration. I quickly jot down some ideas.
During an informal brainstorm meeting with the team later that day, Bodacious Gin comes up and various ideas are discussed for the campaign, along with audience trends to help us focus our marketing. Finally, I speak up.
“At the awards last night, I tried this olive oil at one of thefood stalls, and I spoke to the woman whose family produced it. She was telling me about the farm where it’s made, and how the land has been in her family for generations. Then when I tasted the olive oil, I could really imagine it. It made the experience so much better.”
“Olive oil, when it’s done right, is sensational,” Phil comments.
