

Polyphenols - The Taste That Burns Back
I first learned to taste olive oil beside my father. We would wait together in the small mill of our village, watching the olives turn slowly into oil. The mill was alive - the hum of the machines, the rhythm of footsteps, the sound of voices calling names. The air smelled of olives - sharp, green, and heavy. People came and went, tired from the harvest, damp from the autumn air, hungry but patient. No one left before tasting the first stream of new oil. Those who cared enoug


