The closer I get to the Koronekes Olive Mill, just outside Heraklion, the more I feel it—an energy humming quietly in the air, as if the very soil beneath my feet is charged with stories of the past. Here, amid ancient roots and winding paths framed by olive trees, you’ll find a place where history isn’t just remembered. It’s lived. Tradition, here, is not nostalgia. It’s survival. And it’s in every drop of the olive oil they produce.
Kiara Koutoulakis greets me with a smile. Next to her stands Giorgos Mavrakis, quietly surveying the stretch of their estate, the weight of centuries balanced in his pause. Their pride needs no words; it’s in how they stand and how their hands bear the coarse maps of their labour.
The Secrets Behind Their Process
The philosophy at Koronekes Olive Mill is simple but unyielding: quality comes from care, not shortcuts. Watching them work, the rhythm feels almost sacred.
Handpicking the Olives: “We pick by hand because we know what we’re touching,” Giorgos explains. His tone is steady, asserting a truth. “Machines rush. Hands understand.” By carefully selecting olives at the perfect moment, they lock in flavours that mechanical harvesting smothers. “Handpicking olives, cold pressing, and natural settling—these are the methods that create superior olive oil, methods that mass production simply can’t replicate,” says Kiara.
The First Cold Press: It’s a phrase you hear often but rarely see honoured in action. At Koronekes, it happens in front of you. The olives are pressed gently, just once. The extracted oil is rich, pure, and untainted. “Heat kills spirit,” Kiara laughs, passing me a fresh spoonful to taste. I hesitate—it gleams like liquid sunlight. One drop on my tongue, and I get it. Raw, peppery fire. Smooth, but alive.
“We only use handpicked olives, ensuring only the best fruit goes into our oils,” Kiara explains. “Then, we use masterful cold pressing techniques to preserve the richness and complexity of the oil. Instead of rushing the process, we let the oil settle naturally, enhancing its authentic flavors,” she concludes.
The Natural Settling Process: No harsh chemicals. No forced filtration. They let time do the heavy lifting. Gravity separates the great from the good, leaving oil that doesn’t need tinkering. Giorgos refers to it with an almost fatherly affection: “Patience is the most reliable tool we have.”
As they talk, the soul of their work sinks in—every step connects to something older, truer. Their method is both rebellion and surrender. It fights against the industrial and conforms only to nature’s rhythm.
Between Ruins and Winds
There’s a calm defiance in their estate. 2,000 Koroneiki olive trees span over 18 organic hectares, nestled between the ruins of Knossos and the postcard-pretty village of Archanes. A location like this? It isn’t random. The summer winds that once cooled Minoan workers still sweep through the groves, shielding the trees from suffocating Crete heat. No pesticides. No shortcuts to force growth. Instead, Koronekes embraces organic, regenerative farming.
Giorgos points out a groove in the crumbling soil. “A big part of that wisdom comes from the land itself. The location is truly special—between the ancient ruins of Knossos and the picturesque village of Archanes, at about 200 meters altitude. This isn’t just our land,” he says quietly. “The Minoans worked this same earth. It remembers them.” There’s a weight to what he says. Enough to make you stop looking at your phone and start feeling the ground beneath your soles.
A Taste That Speaks History
Koronekes doesn’t simply press olives; they distil the story of Crete into every drop. You can taste it. Each splash of their Extra Virgin Olive Oil bites back, the way truth does. Their work whispers of ancient rituals yet sings loudly of human hands choosing integrity in a world obsessed with convenience.
Since 2014, they’ve even ramped up creativity, crafting gourmet condiments infused with lemon, orange, and basil—cultivated chemically free.
“Since 2014, we’ve introduced gourmet condiments infused with fresh lemon, orange, and basil—flavors grown naturally right here on our farm. Like our olive oil, these infusions capture the essence of Crete, pure and unspoiled,” Kiara tells me.
They are not content with just producing oils; they welcome visitors to witness the process. “Taste it here,” Kiara insists. “It’s the only way to understand.”
For anyone who listens closely enough, Koronekes is more than an olive mill. It’s proof that some old ways should never die.
At the end of the tour, Giorgos turns to me and smiles, his weathered hands resting against the mill. “There’s a saying,” he murmurs. “Our methods may be old, but wisdom doesn’t age.” And as the breeze carries the faint scent of olives across the mill, I know he’s right. Moments like this—they don’t fade.
