This recipe and story were shared by Katia Massoud, from Fanar, Lebanon.
Each year, when the first autumn rains fall in late October, the olive harvest begins in Lebanon. For us, it’s far more than a seasonal task – it’s a ritual, a family tradition that binds us to our land and to generations before us.
We still harvest the old-fashioned way. With a small wooden baton, we gently tap the branches so the olives drop onto a nylon sheet spread beneath the tree. Then, together with family and friends, we gather them by hand. There’s a familiar rhythm to it: laughter mingling with conversation, and the soft, steady sound of olives falling onto the cloth.
After the harvest, the olives are carefully sorted. The large, firm ones are prepared in two ways: some are scored with a knife and pickled, ready to enjoy in about two months, while others are crushed with a mortar and pestle and eaten after just a few days. We never try to strip away all their natural bitterness; that touch of sharpness is part of what makes them truly ours. The smaller olives, on the other hand, are set aside and sent to the press for oil making.
For storage, we fill small glass jars with the pickled olives and use a jarra fekharr, a traditional clay vessel, for the crushed ones. All we add are lemon slices, coarse salt, and a single chili pepper. Over time, the flavors marry – fresh, salty, and warmly spiced. If we can resist finishing them too quickly, they’ll last until the next harvest. But in our home, that’s rare. Olives are part of every meal, scattered over salads and pizzas, or served proudly among the mezze dishes that fill our table.
This recipe, passed down through generations in both my family and my husband’s, feels timeless. I couldn’t tell you exactly when it began; I only know it’s always been there, part of our daily life, not reserved for special occasions. In Lebanon, olives appear at every meal, from breakfast to dinner, ever-present among our starters.
Some of my dearest memories are rooted in the harvest. I grew up in Ghosta, where my late father – Allah yerhamo (May Allah have mercy on him) – would pick olives from the few trees we had, while my mother carefully pickled them for us. I can still picture my father’s humble plate of hummus w foul, fresh mint (na3na3), crisp radishes (fejel), and a small bowl of his own olives… A meal so simple, yet impossible to surpass.
When I married and moved to Fanar, my husband built our home on his family’s land, surrounded by olive trees. Some had to be relocated to make room for the house, and specialists were called in to handle them gently – because to us, olive trees are almost sacred. Today, I still live in that traditional Lebanese house, embraced by those same trees. And every October, we repeat the ritual: picking, sorting, and choosing the best olives for pickling, while the rest go to the press for oil.
When the new oil arrives, it’s a celebration in itself. We prepare a large plate of homemade goat labneh, then cover – not drizzle – it with the fresh, green oil we call khedir, and enjoy it alongside the newly pickled zaytoun from the jarra.
For me, this tradition is more than food. It’s family, memory, and belonging. The scent of fresh oil, the first bite of a pickled olive, the gathering around the table – these moments hold the essence of who we are. Even now, as my eldest son studies abroad, I make sure he carries a piece of home with him: a jar of our zeitoun and a bottle of our olive oil.
Because no matter where we go, the taste of olives will always bring us back home.
Katia’s Family Olive Recipe
Harvesting
- When: Late October, just after the first autumn rain
- How: In the traditional way — branches are gently tapped with a baton so the olives fall onto a nylon sheet, and then gathered by hand
- By whom: Family members
Preparing the Olives
For this family, olives can be prepared in two ways, depending on how soon they will be enjoyed:
- Cut for pickling – ready to eat in about two months
- Crushed – ready to enjoy within five days
Tools used: a knife for cutting, and a mortar and pestle for crushing
Debittering
The olives are not soaked — the family prefers them with a natural touch of bitterness.
Preservation
- Containers: Small glass jars for the pickled version; a jarra fekharr (clay jar) for the crushed olives
- Condiments: Lemon, coarse salt, and a chili pepper
- Shelf life: Until the next harvest — if they last that long! Olives are loved in this family and enjoyed in everything from salads to pizzas and more.
