Grilled Herbed Olives

Labor Day Monday and the whole family drove to Maryvale for what Roberto calls "the last summer cookout" even though summer in Phoenix does not end in September — summer in Phoenix ends when it decides to end, which is usually mid-October, when the rest of the country is carving pumpkins and we are still sweating through our shirts at the mailbox. But Roberto has rules about Labor Day. You cook. You eat. You declare summer over. The declaration is ceremonial, not meteorological.

Roberto grilled chicken — his chicken, the simple preparation with salt and dried chiles and the slow patience of a man who has been cooking over cinder blocks for forty years. I brought the smoker and did a rack of ribs — St. Louis style, rubbed with ancho and brown sugar and a little cinnamon that Elena taught me to add when I was fifteen. The two of us stood side by side in the Maryvale backyard, him at his grill and me at my smoker, and Elena took a photo from the kitchen window. She takes this photo every time. She has a hundred versions of the same image — father and son, smoke between them, the lemon tree in the background. I think she is building a record of something she knows won't last forever. I think she is right to build it.

Diego filmed the whole thing. The camera I bought him for his birthday has become an extension of his arm — he films the food, the smoke, the way Roberto's hands move, the way my hands move, the difference and the sameness. Sofia sat with Elena shelling pepitas and talking about her soccer schedule with the seriousness of a general planning a campaign. She has three practices a week and a tournament in two weeks and a math test on Thursday and she manages all of it with a calm that makes me suspicious. Twelve-year-olds should not be this organized. I was not this organized at forty.

After dinner I sat at the mesquite table with the laptop while Jessica put the kids to bed. Added a section to the business plan about menu pricing — the math of what a plate of ribs costs to produce versus what a customer will pay versus what the rent demands. Roberto's voice in my head: "Feed people, mijo. The money follows the food." The money has to follow. But the food comes first. Always the food.

The small twenty-four-on, forty-eight-off firefighter-shift rhythm continues to be the small organizing-structure of the small Rivera-household-week. The small twenty-four-hour shift starts at the small Phoenix Fire Department Station 19 at six AM. The small forty-eight-off stretches let the small dad-work happen at home. Jessica handles the small school-pickup-and-evening-rhythm on the small on-shift days. The small partnership has held since the small kids were small.

The small backyard BBQ-pit Marcus built in 2019 continues to be the small kitchen-of-record for the small weekend-cooking. The small offset-smoker is the small precision-instrument. The small Saturday-morning brisket-trim ritual continues. The small Sunday-meat-pickup at the small Lopez Brothers Meats on West Van Buren Street is the small weekly-ingredient-source.

The small Phoenix-summer-heat is the small weather-reality nine months a year. The small kitchen has the small AC running on the small continuous-cycle from May through October. The small outdoor-grilling happens at five AM on the small June-and-July weekends before the small temperature breaks 100. The small adaptation to the small desert-climate is the small lifelong-practice.

The ribs need four hours and they don’t need you the whole time — that’s part of what I love about smoking. That afternoon in Maryvale, while Roberto tended his chicken and Elena and Sofia shelled pepitas at the table, I put together a small pan of grilled olives to set out while everyone waited. It’s a nothing recipe, almost embarrassingly simple, but the heat opens them up and the herbs go fragrant and suddenly people are standing around the table talking without realizing they’re doing it. Roberto ate most of them. He didn’t comment on them directly, which from him is a compliment.

Prep Time: 5 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 17 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 cups mixed olives, such as Castelvetrano, Kalamata, and Cerignola, pitted or unpitted
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
2 sprigs fresh rosemary
4 sprigs fresh thyme
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Crusty bread or flatbread, for serving

Instructions

Prepare the packet. Tear a large sheet of heavy-duty aluminum foil, about 18 inches long. Place the olives in the center of the foil. Add the olive oil, garlic, rosemary sprigs, thyme sprigs, dried oregano, and red pepper flakes. Toss gently to coat.
Seal and grill. Fold the foil up and over the olives, crimping the edges tightly to form a sealed packet. Place the packet on a grill over medium heat (about 375—400°F). Cook for 10—12 minutes, until the olives are warmed through and the garlic is softened and fragrant.
Finish and serve. Carefully open the foil packet — steam will release. Drizzle with lemon juice and scatter the lemon zest over the top. Discard the rosemary and thyme sprigs or leave them for presentation. Transfer to a small bowl or serve directly in the foil. Set out with crusty bread for dipping in the herbed oil.

Nutrition (per serving)

Grilled Herbed Olives — Something Small to Set Out While the Smoke Does Its Work