Field notes from a regenerative olive grove: olivo nuovo arrives

This is our second visit to the farm of our beloved stewards, Patrick and Claire (pictured below). A Regenerative Organic Certified® olive grove nestled in the golden hills of San Martin, California. Last time we came to walk their land and learn their rhythm. This year, we returned to join in the harvest.

Their grove is planted with venerable Frantoio trees, originally from Tuscany, the variety Patrick’s father brought across in the 1970s when he first established the orchard. These trees now stand as a living lineage: anchored in soil nurtured by regenerative organic practice and gentle animal companions — Kronk, the steadfast guardian llama, guiding the sheep that graze and tend the under-grove. We arrived ahead of Patrick and Claire, our team eager to be in the olive grove, to walk among the trees, their branches heavy with green and maroon-purple olives ripening in staggered stages. The morning air was thick with fog over the rolling hills of the basin. The sheep paused to gaze at us; Kronk nudged gently toward his post. Light slanted through the canopy, casting a quiet hush over the field.

The harvest

By midday, we witnessed the harvest: the careful raking of branches, the collection of olives, the sorting and cleansing. Then the olives dropped through a chute, washing over conveyors into the mill. There, as we watched, the press transformed fruit into oil. Their process preserves the matrix of nutrients within the olive. The first drips of oil emerged vivid, brilliant green, the aroma of fresh grass and pepper rising in the mill like an ancient prayer. Patrick handed each of us a small cup. After tasting, my tongue felt bright and herbaceous, followed by warm buttery heat, then a peppery burn at the back of my throat. Not mellow or sweet, but vital and purposeful.

This was the season’s Olio Nuovo — the “new oil,” unfiltered, straight from press to bottle, available only for a few fleeting months each year, typically from early November through year’s end. The team at Frantoio describes it as vibrant and herbaceous: “fresh grass, artichoke, and wild herbs, finishing with a bold yet balanced peppery kick.” This is oil meant to shine as a finishing touch, drizzled over crisp greens with a squeeze of lemon, tossed quickly with pasta, or used as the centerpiece of an Italian-style bread ritual: grilled rustic bread rubbed with raw garlic, slathered with fresh oil, and sprinkled with fleur de sal. Heaven.

David, CEO and Co-founder of evanhealy with Patrick Martin of Frantoio Grove

Each olive holds a miraculous transformation: fruit becomes oil, and oil is love. Cold-pressed olive oil retains the integrity of its nutrients, including the squalene that mirrors our skin’s natural sebum, the high levels of oleic fatty acids that strengthen cell membranes and the antioxidants that slow visible signs of aging. In the grove, we massaged it into our skin, feeling it soften in a deeper way. When consumed, it supports heart health, reduces inflammation, and enhances vitality. It is both food and medicine, internal and topical — a true bridge between inner and outer beauty, and one of the most ancient remedies known to humankind.

Moments from the grove

Between the harvest and the meal, the day unfurled in small moments of connection and care.

Holistic esthetician Shirley Jo gave Patrick a spontaneous field facial beneath the olive trees using our Frankincense HydroSoul and Balm of Gilead Elixir, made with oil from his very grove. The air smelled of earth and resin, olive and leaf, as the elixir sank into his sun-warmed skin.

Our team joined in the rhythm of the farm, feeding the animals by hurling bales of alfalfa over the fence and laughing as Kronk led the sheep in a joyful procession.

Holistic esthetician Jamie performed an oil and water ritual in the grove using pure Frantoio Olive Oil and our Tulsi HydroSoul, then ran it through sales manager Jess Massey’s dark, curly tresses as a nourishing hair oil.

VP Colleen Brown paused mid-afternoon to mist with HydroSoul while the sheep grazed on alfalfa — a quiet moment of communion between plant, skin, and soil.

Later that day, we sat al fresco for a farm-to-table meal curated by Claire and Patrick: several breads for dipping into that intense emerald oil, smoky baba ghanoush (a recipe Patrick developed when he was a chef in a vegan beer garden), hummus, creamy polenta, their white El Gordo marcella beans, and a cucumber–tomato–garlic salad. A biodynamic rosé in mason jars toasted our gathering.

As the golden hour approached, we returned to the grove for more photography and interviews. We watched Patrick emerge, his reserved shell breaking open into laughter, jokes, dancing, and the confident ease of a man deep in his element. When I asked what the olive trees meant to him, he simply said, “The olive trees are my home. They represent home to me.”

As we drifted beneath the canopy once more, dappled light danced on silver leaves, the branches swaying heavy with fruit. One thing struck us–this witnessing felt like an honor, a glimpse behind the curtain into a sacred world few ever see. John O’Donohue wrote that beauty is that in the presence of which you feel more alive. And that is exactly how we felt: alive, rooted in time, in land, in ritual. Connected to the trees, the soil, the oil, the stewards, and each other.

Thank you, Patrick and Claire, for inviting us into your world and sharing your oil with us–a true expression of love (from the Sanskrit sneha: oil, love).