OPINION: Starbucks' Oleato range – pairing caffeine with Partanna extra virgin olive oil – promises an "elevated coffee experience". 1News digital reporter River Lin embarked on a culinary journey to the nearest store in what turned out to be one of their most trying times as a journalist.
Starbucks announced the "next revolution in coffee" was upon us when it released its range of drinks infused with Partanna extra virgin olive oil in Italy last year.
And while the drinks conjured up images of health and sophistication, the Oleato range was met with mixed reviews online, with some complaining of dregs of oil, while others reported getting stuck on the porcelain throne.
The franchise's US founder Howard Schultz said that, while on a trip to Sicily last year, he drew inspiration from the Mediterranean custom of having a spoonful of olive oil every day.
"I was absolutely stunned at the unique flavour and texture created when the Partanna extra virgin olive oil was infused into Starbucks coffee," he said in a press release.
"In both hot and cold coffee beverages, what it produced was an unexpected, velvety, buttery flavour that enhanced the coffee and lingers beautifully on the palate.
"Now, there's going to be people who say, ‘Olive oil in coffee? But the proof is in the cup."
With researchers and celebrities alike swearing by the health benefits of olive oil, should we all be chucking a few drops into our morning cup of joe?
After the divisive drinks arrived on our antipodean shores last week, I decided – for science – to head to the nearest Starbucks to try it out for myself.
Oleato Caffe Latte with Oat Milk
As I take my first sip of the Oleato Caffe Latte with Oat Milk, I immediately realise I’ve made a terrible mistake.
The articles and reviews I’d read as part of my research couldn’t prepare me for the overwhelming saltiness of the olive oil that was now assaulting my senses. What happened to the "subtle" hint of olives? My eyes close as I pray for the incongruous savouriness to subside into the familiar comfort of a latte, but that moment never comes. Instead, there's an acrid taste which clings to the back of my nose and throat.
I take another sip, then another, but all I can taste is bitter olives. It takes effort to swallow. The coffee chain advertises their latte as "velvety smooth" and "deliciously lush" but rather than luxury and sophistication, I'm left with a deep sense of dread and discomfort in the middle of their store on Queen St. And at $7 for a short latte and $8.50 for a tall espresso, I don't feel any richer or healthier – I feel like I’ve been scammed.
My disgust is so great that my face contorts into a pained smile – the kind where something is so bad, all you can do is laugh. I take another sip thinking it'll somehow taste like an entirely different drink but it's too late – my taste buds are shot.
I throw in the towel. Is my palate, perhaps, more unrefined than I realised? I jokingly compare the brew to chloroform as my colleagues – who were there for moral support – bravely take sips of the concoction too. "Yeah, I don’t like that," one says. My other co-worker leaves me stunned as she gives her decidedly more positive assessment. "It's not bad," she says, as my eyebrows shoot into my hairline. Wait, what? She takes another sip. "Yep."
The abject revulsion creeps into nausea with every mouthful, and I muse about how the EVOO would taste on a nicely toasted slice of bread. Pretty good, probably.
Too late now.
Oleato Golden Foam Iced Shaken Espresso with Hazelnut
Next is the Oleato Golden Foam Iced Shaken Espresso with Hazelnut. I'm pleasantly surprised by its sweetness. Its website promises "layers of flavour sweetened with notes of hazelnuts, rich espresso, and creamy oat milk infused with Partanna extra virgin olive oil" but all I can taste is a saccharine syrup, masking the saltiness of the olive oil. I'm grateful for the reprieve. It's not bad, but not something I'd willingly buy again. Maybe if someone else paid for it? My co-workers agree with my assessment.
Then I remember the oil is in the foam and give it a good mix. I promptly regret my decision. It's more palatable than the latte, but barely. The longer it sits, the more it begins to taste like burning rubber.
A colleague takes pity on me and offers me a sip of her Burnt Caramel Oat Milk Latte, before bringing over a glass of water.
A layer of oil rises to the surface of Starbucks' Oleato Caffe Latte with Oatmilk. (Source: 1News)
Roughly 20 minutes in, my attention turns to the thin layer of oil forming on the surface of my latte as it separates. It starts off subtle, but at the 40-minute mark, my colleagues and I are left watching with fascination as it morphs into a large oil slick.
After an hour, my colleagues have left – they have better things to do on a Saturday afternoon than to stare at a cup of coffee.
Not long afterwards, I see the reproachful eyes of my fellow customers as they gaze at my now largely empty table. As I gather my mostly full cups to leave, I’m reminded of the journalist banned from a handful of Hawke's Bay cafes for overstaying and wonder if I'm next. I walk out with a stomachache, never to return (until the next time I'm in need of a late-night coffee fix, sans oil).
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