There is something very strange about the olive oil season this year.
Not tragic.
Not miraculous.
Just… strange.
The kind of strange where everybody pretends everything is normal, and you just sit there with your bread in your hand thinking, “Are we seriously doing this again?”
Last year, olive oil prices went so high people whispered about them like they were discussing medical results. You did not ask directly — you asked carefully.
“How much did you pay?”
“Well… you know… it depends…”
“But how much?”
“A bit too much.”
(Translation: a lot too much.)
Olive oil became the Mediterranean version of Bitcoin: nobody understood why the numbers exploded, but everyone had opinions and nobody wanted to be the idiot who didn’t buy early.
This year, prices dropped.
Should be good news, right?
But somehow, nobody is happy.
Farmers are angry.
Consumers are suspicious.
Supermarkets are smug.
Experts are doing interviews like weather prophets.
And the whole thing feels like a telenovela written by someone who hates stability.
So let us describe this season the way normal humans experience it, not the way “food economics articles” pretend we do.
First: Prices Are Down. Truly. Not a rumor.
Last year, olive oil was so expensive that if you knocked over a bottle in the kitchen, you instinctively apologized out loud and considered writing a eulogy.
A tenekes cost more than your monthly electricity bill.
This year, wholesale prices dropped dramatically. Not from generosity. From fear. From Spain. From weather. From the market realizing it went clinically insane and needed to come back to earth.
Now we’re seeing:
- Around €4.50–€5.00/kg for normal good extra virgin
- Up to €7–€8/kg for early elite batches
- Around €3/kg for the sad oils nobody posts on Instagram
For a normal family, this means the refill ritual — the sacred moment of “Do we have enough for winter?” — suddenly feels doable again.
This is the first piece of good news in two years.
But don’t get too excited.
Because the next truth hits harder:
Farmers Are Getting Destroyed
Consumers see lower prices and think, “Finally, something fair.”
Farmers see lower prices and think, “Of course. Of course the universe did this to me.”
Last year, the issue wasn’t that prices were high — the issue was that yields were awful and the weather hit everybody like a drunk god with a stick.
This year, yields are better.
And prices fall.
And costs rise.
- labor: up
- fuel: up
- packaging: up
- electricity: up
- taxes: never down, never will be
So yes — olive oil costs less for you.
But the people who produce it are bleeding quietly into the soil.
Life in the Mediterranean is like that. Always has been. But it hurts more when the numbers pretend they’re being kind.
Quality: Actually Good, Except Where It Isn’t
Let us talk about taste.
Because at the end of the day, olive oil is not numbers.
It’s flavor. Memory. Home.
This season’s early Cretan oils?
Absolutely beautiful.
Sharp. Green. Peppery.
The kind of oil you smell before you taste.
But weather is a diva.
In some regions, rain came at the wrong moment, fruit flies did whatever fruit flies do when they feel romantic, and the quality got patchy.
But that’s normal.
That’s olive oil.
It’s a living thing, not a factory product.
What matters is:
good olive oil is affordable again, and great olive oil exists — if you know where to look.
Supermarkets Pretending They Didn’t Hear the News
Wholesale prices dropped.
Do retail shelves reflect that?
Of course not.
Supermarkets move slower than any other organism on earth.
When prices rise, they adjust instantly.
When prices fall, they need to:
- breathe
- meditate
- wait
- think
- wait again
- hold a meeting
- wait for the “right moment”
- adjust by 32 cents
- call it a seasonal miracle
Eventually they will drop.
But only after they finish squeezing the lemon completely dry.
Spain: The Unintentional Dictator of Olive Oil Emotion
Here’s the truth nobody wants to say out loud:
90% of olive oil drama in the Mediterranean is Spain’s fault.
Not intentionally.
Spain is not the villain.
Spain is the massive planet whose gravity pulls everything else around it.
If Spain has a good harvest → everyone breathes.
If Spain has a bad harvest → everyone panics.
If Spain has a medium harvest → everyone argues.
This year, Spain is “okay-ish,” which means the market is staying calm, but only because everyone is staring at Spain like a cat watching a glass about to fall from the table.
One heatwave in Andalusia and we’re all back to €12 bottles.
Weather: The Most Chaotic Character of All
You cannot predict weather anymore.
The Mediterranean is fighting a climate that does not match the calendar.
Winters are warm.
Springs are unpredictable.
Rain appears on days when rain was previously illegal.
Olive trees are strong — almost mystical — but even they have limits.
One week of bad weather in May can ruin an entire year.
So yes, this season is better.
But stability is dead.
We live in the era of “let us hope the weather behaves.”
Why This Season Feels Wrong Even When It Is Right
Because the last two seasons were traumatic.
Not dramatic — traumatic.
People remember scarcity.
People remember the panic of “Will we have enough oil?”
People remember the shock of seeing prices that belonged in a jewelry store.
This season is calmer.
But everyone still flinches.
Farmers flinch.
Consumers flinch.
Cooks flinch.
Tavernas flinch.
Grandmothers flinch BEFORE seeing the price, just out of habit.
Trauma stays in the blood.
This Season Is Human
It’s messy.
It’s unfair.
It’s hopeful.
It’s bitter.
It’s better.
It’s worse.
It’s everything at once.
Just like the Mediterranean.
Olive oil is not a commodity.
It is emotion, recession, memory, weather, politics, identity, family, chaos, geography, biology — everything mixed into one golden-green impossibility.
And this year? This year is the closest we’ve come to balance in a long time.
Imperfect balance. Real balance. Human balance. Not “market balance.”
Human balance.
The only kind that matters.
