Discover the secrets of olive oil on the Greek island of Crete

My Extra-Virgin Experiment

On the civilizing effects of an ancient elixir

Olive oil snack. It’s good brushed on grapes, too, for that professional-looking shine. (Photo by author)

I have a thing for extra virgin olive oil. Some might call it an obsession, but I prefer to think of it as a love affair. I’ve chased that golden-green elixir around the world, savoring its subtle inflections: grassy, fruity, nutty. My husband has waited patiently in elegant tasting rooms as I sipped varietals and cultivars and single-estate standouts, robust early harvests and pale, buttery award-winners.

At home, extra virgin olive oil is my favorite afternoon snack. I pour it onto a cracker and admire it there in a tiny, shimmering pool surrounded by a dollop of hummus to keep it from falling off. After all, it is the olive oil I’m after. Its leafy hue reminds me of hot summer afternoons. Its peppery burn lashes mischievously at the back of my tongue. Its light viscosity slides luxuriously down my throat. It moistens my lips and glistens on my chin. I smooth the excess onto my hands and elbows. I’m often tempted to smother every inch of my body with the unctuous condiment. I did that once and felt like an awesome Greek goddess … until the fruit flies started circling. It also made my sheets smell somewhat rancid — a decidedly ungoddess-like effect.