Olive d’Or 2008 – 2nd edition – The winners of the Olive Oil’s International Contest
A gold medal on a bottle looks like a verdict. It is really a snapshot: one lot, one day, one panel, in a dark blue glass that hides the colour. Understanding the method tells you exactly how much to trust the sticker.
Every spring a run of international extra virgin competitions takes place across the olive world, each gathering a few hundred oils from a dozen or more countries, each producing a list of golds, silvers and bronzes that will appear on labels and websites for years. It is easy to be cynical about them. It is also a mistake, because the sensory method underneath the medals is one of the most carefully constructed pieces of food assessment anywhere — and it is the same method that decides whether an oil may legally be called extra virgin at all.
The blue glass, and why colour is banned
A judging panel does not taste from a wine glass. The standard vessel is a small, dark cobalt-blue tumbler with a lid, and the reason is blunt: colour tells you almost nothing about olive oil quality and misleads almost everybody. Green does not mean fresh or good; golden does not mean old or weak. Colour depends on cultivar, ripeness at harvest and how much leaf went into the mill. Hide it, and the judge is forced to work with the only evidence that matters — aroma and taste.
The sample is warmed to around 28 degrees Celsius, roughly skin temperature, because volatile aroma compounds need heat to lift out of a fat. The glass is covered until the moment of smelling. The taster then draws the oil across the whole mouth with a sharp sip of air — the sound is unmistakable and slightly ridiculous — to aerosolise it and reach the back of the throat, where pungency registers.
What the panel is actually scoring
Two things, in this order. First, defects: fusty or muddy sediment from fruit left in heaps to ferment, winey or vinegary notes, musty humidity, rancidity from oxidation, metallic, muddy, frostbitten. A single defect perceived by the median of the panel disqualifies an oil from extra virgin, whatever its chemistry says. Extra virgin is defined partly as an oil with zero perceptible defect — a fact worth remembering next time a bottle tastes vaguely of old nuts.
Only then does the panel score the positives, and there are exactly three: fruity (the smell and taste of sound, fresh olives, green or ripe), bitter and pungent. Bitterness and pungency are not faults. They are the sensory signature of the phenolic compounds, and an oil with none of either is usually an oil that has lost them. Competitions then group the entries by fruitiness intensity so that a gentle oil is not judged against a fierce one.
| Class | Character | Typical cultivars | Best used for |
|---|---|---|---|
| Delicate / light fruity | Soft, sweet, low bitterness, gentle finish | Arbequina, Taggiasca, Mission | Fish, mayonnaise, fresh cheese, baking |
| Medium fruity | Balanced fruit with clear bitterness and a peppery tail | Frantoio, Hojiblanca, Kalamata cultivars | Everyday cooking, salads, roasted vegetables |
| Intense / robust fruity | Grassy, artichoke, strong bitterness, throat-catching pepper | Coratina, Picual, Koroneiki, Moraiolo | Bean soups, grilled meat, bruschetta, raw drizzling |
What a medal is worth to you
The judging is honest. The marketing around it often is not, and the gap is worth naming plainly. A competition tests a lot the producer chose to enter, usually their best tank, in the spring after harvest. The medal then travels onto labels for years, sometimes onto bottles of a different vintage entirely, sometimes onto a blend that shares only a name with the winning sample. Entries are self-selected and cost money, so the absence of a medal says nothing at all — some of the best producers I know have never entered anything.
Read a medal as a genuine statement that a trained panel found no defect and real positive character in one particular lot at one particular moment. That is worth something. Then look for the two facts the medal cannot give you: the harvest year, and whether the bottle in front of you is that oil. If a label boasts an award from several seasons ago, it is telling you about history, not about what you are buying.
How to taste like the panel does
- Use a small glass and cup it in your palm for a minute to warm the oil; the aroma will roughly double.
- Ignore colour completely. If you cannot manage that, use a blue or opaque glass, which is exactly why the professionals do.
- Smell first, hard, and look for fresh green things: cut grass, tomato leaf, artichoke, green apple, almond.
- Sip with air. Draw the oil over the tongue and pull air through it. Pungency appears at the back of the throat a few seconds later.
- Learn one defect and you will spot most bad oil: fusty, the flat sour smell of fruit that sat too long before milling.
- Cleanse with a slice of green apple and plain water between samples, and never taste more than five or six oils at a sitting.
Olive oil competitions: common questions
Why is olive oil judged in blue glasses?
Because colour is not a quality indicator and strongly biases tasters. Green does not mean fresh and gold does not mean old — colour reflects cultivar, ripeness and leaf content. The dark blue glass hides it so judges rely on aroma and taste alone.
What are the three positive attributes of extra virgin olive oil?
Fruity, bitter and pungent. Bitterness and pungency come from the phenolic compounds and are considered virtues, not faults. Defects such as fustiness, rancidity or winey notes are scored separately and disqualify an oil from the extra virgin grade.
What does light, medium or intense fruity mean?
They are intensity classes, not quality ranks. Competitions group oils this way so a delicate Arbequina is not judged against a ferocious Coratina. Each class has its own medals and its own best culinary uses.
Does a gold medal mean the bottle I am buying is good?
It means one lot the producer entered impressed a trained panel at one point in time. Check the harvest year on the bottle in front of you; medals often stay on labels long after the winning oil has been sold.
Why do some excellent producers never win awards?
Because entry is voluntary and costs money in fees, samples and shipping. Many small growers who sell their whole crop at the farm gate see no reason to enter. Absence of a medal carries no information at all.
I have sat on the other side of this. The panel work is real — genuinely hard, genuinely disciplined, and no place for the romantic. What happens afterwards is where the sport begins. A producer enters their best tank, wins, and that sticker is on the label for four years while the oil behind it changes with every harvest. Nobody is lying, exactly. But if you take one habit from all this, take the panel’s habit rather than the marketing’s: cover the label, warm the glass, and find out whether the oil is any good before you find out who says so.
Drawn from the standard sensory assessment method for virgin olive oils — panel composition, blue tasting glass, sample temperature, defect and positive-attribute scoring — and from how international competitions organise their fruitiness classes.