THE HISTORY

The Cirulli Oil Mill is currently a general partnership established in 2014 with the purpose of developing the olive milling activity, storage, and packaging of Extra Virgin Olive Oil at an industrial level.

The Cirulli Oil Mill is surrounded by the characteristic olive-growing landscape consisting of over 13,000 hectares and more than 3 million splendid olive trees producing coratina variety olives, giving the oil produced the qualities for which it is appreciated worldwide. The quality, prestige, and professionalism of the owners today represent the history of the Cirulli Oil Mill, which possesses all the characteristics of an organization aimed at excellence.

The Cirulli Oil Mill has been operating in the sector for about 70 years, thanks to Nicola Cirulli who in the 1950s started the milling activity, beginning to produce Extra Virgin Olive Oil. Giuseppe, Nicola Cirulli's son, continues the activity supported by his sons Nicola and Raffaele, who start to bring innovation.

LOVE FOR THE EARTH

The love for the land, the passion for work, and the care of the products are characteristics of the Cirulli Family. Since the early 1900s, the Cirulli Family has passionately and traditionally cultivated an ancient art: the production of Extra Virgin Olive Oil. For three generations, the oil produced at the Cirulli Mill has preserved its qualities thanks to the care that the family men dedicate to the entire production cycle: from the growth to the pruning of the plant, from the harvesting of the olives to the processing and packaging of the oil, with special attention also to soil cultivation.

Located in the Andria district, right in the heart of the Northern Barese Murgia, the Cirulli Mill is surrounded by the characteristic olive landscape consisting of over 13,000 hectares and more than 3 million splendid olive trees that produce coratina quality olives, giving the oil produced the characteristics for which it is appreciated worldwide.

Our olive trees, coratina variety, have then spread throughout the surrounding area so much that today it is one of the most widely cultivated varieties in the northern area of the province of Bari.

70 YEARS AGO...

I was fifteen when I decided to leave for Turin. I wanted to know the world, feel new scents and see different landscapes. I wanted to feel free to make my own choices. In the countryside there was only work, alarms at dawn among my mother's shouts and my father's threatening look, accompanied by my grandfather's impatience, who marked my delay, stamping his foot on the floor, arms crossed. In the countryside, there were only returns at sunset riding the donkey, stories around the fire, eating bread-olives and focaccia before the harvest.

Despite those monotonous and always the same days, in my father's eyes there was always a lit spark. He said it was the spark of memory. I too had memories – at least so I thought – but my spark had lit far from my land.

One day I was at home, in that City house that my mother never had the courage to call "Home." I took a slice of bread, slightly hard... but our Apulian bread is good even like that. I poured on our oil, yellow like gold, obtained from hand-picked olives, selected one by one and pressed from day to night. I brought the slice to my mouth and... the story starts again from here. At that moment, I saw it. I saw the spark of the memory: when at lunch with the family, I wanted to season the legume dish with only a spoonful of oil. "Abound, abound until it overflows," my grandmother said, almost annoyed by my gesture so little Apulian. That day, I brought back to my lips, but above all to my heart, my land, unique in the world in the art of olive growing.

After 70 years from that memory, the spark has never gone out. It shines in the eyes of my children, Nicola and Raffaele, and in those of my beloved grandchildren. My children have never left; they have always known what to do "when they grow up": renew every day the memory that smells of oil, that has hands dirty with earth, that has the sound of the millstones in the olive mill, that has the taste of happy moments and that looks with love at those who overflow the plate with happy memories, which spread... like oil stains.