I grew up in a household where olives were always on the table. My father is from Puglia, and olives — good olives, proper olives, olives that tasted like something — were a non-negotiable part of any meal that involved guests. I absorbed this without really thinking about it, and when I set up my own home in Manchester in my late twenties, I continued the tradition.
The problem was that I’d been buying supermarket olives. And supermarket olives, I eventually had to admit, are not the same thing.
The Moment I Realised I’d Been Getting It Wrong
It happened at a friend’s housewarming last year. She’d put out a spread — charcuterie, cheese, bread, and a bowl of olives that I ate three of before I’d even taken my coat off. Large, meaty, with a heat that built slowly and a brininess that was present without being overwhelming. I asked where they were from.
Borough Olives, she said. She’d been ordering them for years.
I went home, looked them up, and felt the particular embarrassment of someone who considers themselves a food person realising they’ve been serving their guests something significantly inferior to what was available. I ordered the multipack the same evening.
Why Borough Olives Gordal Spicy Specifically
Borough Olives is a name with a serious reputation in the food world — they’ve been trading at Borough Market in London for years, which is not a place that tolerates mediocrity. Their sourcing is careful and their product range is focused rather than sprawling. These aren’t olives that have been sitting in a vat of brine for an indeterminate period. They taste like they were made with attention.
The Borough Olives Pitted Green Gordal Spicy Olives stood out for several reasons.
First, the Gordal variety. Gordal means “fat one” in Spanish, which is exactly what these are — large, substantial olives with a meaty texture that holds up to the marinade rather than going soft. Most supermarket green olives are smaller varieties that become mushy once marinated. Gordal doesn’t do that. You get a proper bite, a proper texture, something that feels like food rather than a garnish.
Second, the spicy infusion. The heat is balanced rather than aggressive — it builds as you eat rather than hitting you immediately, which means you keep reaching for more rather than stopping after two. That’s the mark of a well-calibrated marinade: it makes the olive more interesting without overwhelming what the olive actually tastes like.
Third, they’re pitted. This sounds trivial but it matters enormously when you’re serving guests. Nobody wants to navigate an olive stone mid-conversation, and the pitting on these is clean — no fragments, no torn flesh. They look as good as they taste.
The 3 x 350g multipack was the right call for me. I entertain regularly and I go through olives quickly. Having three jars in the cupboard means I’m never caught short when people arrive unexpectedly, which in my household happens more often than I plan for.
I found them in the Olives & Capers and Condiments & Sauces collections, and also in the broader Food Items and Food, Beverages & Tobacco ranges. They arrived two days after ordering.
How I Use Them
The obvious answer is: straight from the jar, as a snack or as part of a spread. They need nothing added — the marinade is complete and the olives are ready to serve. I decant them into a bowl, put them on the table, and they disappear.
But I’ve also found them genuinely useful in cooking. Roughly chopped into a pasta with capers, anchovies, and cherry tomatoes, they add a depth and heat that transforms a simple weeknight dish into something that tastes considered. Sliced into a salad with roasted peppers and feta, they do the same. The spicy marinade carries into whatever you’re making, which means you’re seasoning and adding flavour simultaneously.
The martini application mentioned in the product description is not a joke. A Gordal olive in a dirty martini is a different experience from a standard cocktail olive. The size means you get a proper mouthful at the end of the drink rather than a token gesture. I’ve served them this way at two dinner parties now and both times someone has asked where the olives came from before they’ve finished the drink.
Eight Months On — The Honest Verdict
I’ve been ordering the Borough Olives Gordal Spicy multipack every six to eight weeks for the past eight months. Here’s the honest report:
- They’re consistently excellent. Every jar, every order, the same quality. No variation, no off batches. That consistency is what makes something a staple rather than an occasional treat.
- The shelf life is generous. Unopened, the jars keep well. I’ve never had one go off before I’ve used it, even when I’ve had three jars in the cupboard simultaneously. Once opened, they keep in the fridge for a couple of weeks, though they’ve never lasted that long in my house.
- They’ve replaced supermarket olives entirely. I haven’t bought a supermarket olive since the housewarming. The price difference is real but the quality difference is larger, and for something I serve to guests, that matters.
- Guests always ask about them. Every time. I’ve now recommended Borough Olives to at least six people, three of whom have come back to tell me they’re also ordering regularly. That’s the most honest endorsement I can give.
The Difference They’ve Made
My father visited from Italy in March. I put the Borough Olives out with drinks before dinner. He ate several, said nothing for a moment, then nodded and said: “These are good.”
From my father, about olives, that is the highest possible praise. I’ll take it.
If you entertain regularly, if you care about what you put on the table, or if you’ve simply been buying supermarket olives out of habit and wondering if there’s something better — there is. The Borough Olives Pitted Green Gordal Spicy Olives 3 x 350g are the something better. Browse the full Olives & Capers collection and the Food Items range for more options.
Order the multipack. You’ll go through them faster than you expect.
Luca Ferretti is a structural engineer and enthusiastic home cook based in Manchester. He hosts dinner parties more often than is probably sensible, takes his Italian heritage seriously at the table, and is slowly building a pantry his father would approve of.
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