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Greetings from Fat Gold!

Kathryn recently accepted an award for one of our oils, and her speech encapsulated all her work in olive oil so far, as well as Fat Gold’s whole philosophy, so… we thought we should share it with you!

Before we get to the main event, it’s time to announce: oil from the 2021 harvest is now available in our online shop.

An image of two tins of olive oil side by side, one with a bright yellow label, the other rich blue.

Fat Gold Standard is bold and peppery, a robust blend of frantoio and leccino, while Fat Gold Blue is fragrant and fruity, a more delicate blend of arbequina and picual. Both are versatile—you can use them for almost anything—and they look great side-by-side in your pantry 😉

Annual subscribers received the first taste of Fat Gold’s 2021 harvest in their December and March shipments, but this release marks the beginning of its general availability.

You can purchase tins in our online shop, starting right now:

https://fat.gold/shop/

Now: we want to share a moment of celebration that’s also a manifesto.

Earlier this month, Kathryn accepted a Good Food Award for our 2020 Blue oil. This award is particularly meaningful because the criteria for entering the competition is strict! Fantastic flavor isn’t enough; producers are required to meet a whole host of production standards, ranging from efficient water consumption to fair labor practices.

At the ceremony in San Francisco, Kathryn was one of a handful of winners asked to give a speech. Here’s a recording, four minutes long, courtesy of the Good Food Foundation. You can also read a transcript, if you prefer, just below.

This is it, right here. This is what Fat Gold is about!

Kathryn: Twelve years ago, I left my job at a food service company that feeds many of the Bay Area’s tech campuses. It was a glamorous job; I got to be around food all day, talking with chefs about it, writing about it. But, I wasn’t making it, and deep down, that’s what I wanted to do.

So, I spent a year in Northern Italy at the University of Gastronomic Sciences… also known as the “Hogwarts of food.” I learned about food production: wine, cheese, chocolate, beer, charcuterie… and, yes, olive oil. It was there, I first learned that olive oils—even extra virgin olive oils—are not all the same. That set me on a path to producing my own olive oil. I’d like to share a few things I’ve learned since becoming a maker.

I’ve learned that establishing your values isn’t a one-time deal, like writing down a mission statement. It’s a daily practice, as every decision either reinforces or undermines them.

I’ve experienced the frustration of ordering supplies in small volumes; the pleasure of finally ordering by the pallet; and, recently, the terror and ecstacy of ordering by the shipping container.

I’ve learned that scale, on its own, doesn’t tell you much about a food maker. Once upon a time, I thought this was true… but, it’s not. Instead, you have to look at the choices people make under the constraints they have.

In our first harvest, Fat Gold made 120 gallons of olive oil. This year, we made 1,800 gallons. At ENZO Olive Oil Company, where I work as head miller, we can make this much in a single day of production. A fellow California maker, whom I greatly admire, made more than a million gallons this season. From smallest to largest, that’s about a 10,000X difference in production. And these extra virgin oils, they’re all delicious!—which tells me that the danger isn’t scale, but commodification.

Let me speak to the olive oil producers and the industry at large for a moment.

We have to decide if our olive oil is a crafted food or an agricultural commodity. Here’s the truth: most California producers cannot afford to sell their product as a commodity. That means we can’t afford to produce it like one.

California producers make oil from different olives varieties, grown in different places with different flavor profiles. When we market every batch the same and let the words “extra virgin” do the heavy lifting for us, we take something specific and make it generic.

When we insist on specificity—and actually tell the stories of particular batches, their origins and characteristics—we hold the line against commodification, and keep our work in the realm of craft.

At the first Good Food Awards judging event—long before there even was an oil category!—I volunteered to plate the pickles and cut wheels of cheese. In later years, I was invited to serve as an oil judge. I’ve been part of this community since the very beginning, and it’s hard for me to express just how meaningful this Good Food Award is.

I am so proud to be part of this cohort of food crafters who remind us, with every batch, that everything is not the same.

Thank you.

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