Perello Gordal Pitted Green Olives Picante Review: chunky bar-snack olives with a proper kick

I’ve gone through a fair number of supermarket olives over the years, from the sad watery ones in plastic tubs to the oily deli-counter stuff. I picked up the Perello Gordal Pitted Green Olives Picante (350g tin) because I kept seeing people rave about them online and the Amazon rating is pretty high. I wanted to see if they’re actually good, or if it’s just another product people hype because it looks a bit “gourmet”.

I ate the whole tin across a week: a couple of evenings as a beer snack, once tossed into a simple pasta, and once in a quick salad with tomatoes and feta. So this isn’t a two-olive taste test; I had time to get used to the flavour, the brine, and the heat. I also compared them directly to a standard supermarket jar of green olives in brine I had in the fridge.

Overall, these Perello Gordal olives are pretty solid if you like big, meaty, salty olives with some chilli heat. They’re not fancy restaurant level, but they’re clearly a step up from the usual cheap jars. At the same time, they’re not perfect: the brine is quite salty, the flavour enhancers on the label might put some people off, and the heat level won’t suit everyone.

If you just want something to snack on with a drink, they do the job very well. If you’re super picky about “natural” ingredients or you prefer mild, clean-tasting olives, you might find them a bit too strong and a bit processed. I’ll break it down by taste, ingredients, packaging and value so you know what you’re really getting.

Flavour-wise, these are big, salty, spicy olives, not mild little things you mindlessly throw into a salad. The first bite I had was with a beer, straight from a small bowl, and the main thing that hit me was the salt and the chilli heat. The olive itself has a firm, almost meaty texture, which I liked. You can actually chew it and get some body, instead of it turning to mush. The taste of the olive is quite green and slightly bitter, but the brine and chilli take the lead.

The “Picante” part is real: there is a noticeable heat. I wouldn’t call it extreme, but after five or six olives in a row, you definitely feel a comfortable burn on the tongue and lips. If you’re used to hot sauces, you’ll probably find it moderate. If you’re sensitive to spice, you might need to pace yourself a bit or rinse them slightly. I gave a few to someone who doesn’t like spicy food much, and they said it was “a bit much” after two or three olives, so the heat is not just marketing.

The salt level is fairly high. After a small bowl, I really wanted water. Compared to a standard supermarket brined olive, these taste more intense and saltier, which is great with alcohol or as a nibble before dinner, but I wouldn’t sit and eat half the can in one go unless you’re fine with heavy salt. In cooking, I found I had to reduce the salt I usually add. When I tossed them into a pasta with garlic, olive oil and cherry tomatoes, I didn’t add any extra salt at all and it was already at the limit of what I’d call comfortable.

Overall, I genuinely liked the taste, but it’s not subtle. If you enjoy strong savoury snacks, these hit the spot. If your idea of a good olive is mild and barely salty, these will probably feel too aggressive. For me, they work best as a bar-style snack or to liven up a simple dish, not as a neutral everyday olive you use for everything.

On the value side, these sit in that middle zone: more expensive than basic supermarket own-brand olives, but cheaper than fancy deli counter options or olives from specialist shops. You’re not paying pennies, but you’re also not getting rinsed for a tiny artisanal jar. Considering you get a 350g tin and the olives are big and quite satisfying, the cost per snack session is actually reasonable. One tin easily covered three evenings of snacking for two people, plus one pasta dish.

Compared to the usual jar of generic green olives in brine I buy, the Perello Gordal ones are clearly better in taste and texture. The supermarket ones feel watery and bland next to these. So you are getting something for the extra money: bigger size, more flavour, and a more “bar snack” feel. If you regularly buy olives from a deli counter, you might even find these cheaper while still good enough for casual use.

The catch is that because they’re salty and spicy, they’re a bit more niche. If you open a tin and realise you don’t actually like the heat, then the value drops quickly because you’ll struggle to finish them. Also, for people who care a lot about natural ingredients, paying extra for something that has MSG and preservatives may feel like a bad deal, even if the taste is good. In that case you’d be better off putting the same money into a more “traditional” olive from a deli.

For my use – beer snacks, quick tapas-style plates, and boosting simple dishes – I think they’re good value. I wouldn’t buy them every week, but I’d happily keep a couple of tins in the cupboard for when friends come over or when I want something stronger than the basic olives. If you’re okay with the ingredients and you like bold flavours, the price feels fair for what you get.

The smell when you crack open the tin is actually a good indicator of what you’re going to get. It hits you with brine, olive and chilli straight away. There’s a clear savoury aroma, almost like a mild pickle mixed with fresh chilli. It doesn’t smell rotten, metallic or funky in a bad way, which can sometimes happen with cheaper canned olives. Instead, it just smells like something you’d get in a tapas bar – strong but in the right direction.

When you pour them into a bowl, that aroma sticks around. If you bring the bowl to the table, people will definitely notice there’s something savoury and spicy going on. I wouldn’t call it subtle; it’s fairly loud for olives. If you’re sensitive to smells, you might find the brine a bit much up close, but I didn’t find it off-putting. Once they’re out of the tin for a few minutes, the sharpness of the smell calms down and you’re left with a more rounded olive and chilli scent.

One thing I checked for was any weird chemical or sulphur smell, since the ingredients mention sulphites and preservatives. I didn’t pick up anything like that. Even when I left some in a glass container in the fridge for two days, the smell when I opened it again was basically the same: salty, savoury, and a little bit spicy. No strange fridge-absorbed odours either, which sometimes happen with more porous or badly sealed products.

In use, like when I tossed them into a hot pan with garlic and oil, the smell actually became more pleasant. The chilli in the brine released into the oil and gave off a nice, simple fried chilli and olive aroma. So on the fragrance side, they’re strong but clean: definitely present, but nothing that made me think “this is off” or “this smells fake”. If you like the smell of salty snacks and pickles, you’ll be fine with these.

The packaging is a simple 350g metal can, no pull-ring on mine, so you’ll need a can opener. That’s not a huge deal, but compared to jars with twist-off lids or tins with ring-pulls, it’s slightly less convenient, especially if you want to open it somewhere that isn’t your kitchen. On the flip side, the can is compact and sturdy, so it’s easy to stack or throw into a bag for a picnic without worrying about glass breaking.

The label information is clear enough: ingredients, country of origin (Spain), and the usual stuff. You can see the mention of flavour enhancers and sulphites easily, so they’re not hiding anything. The print is basic but readable. It’s not trying to look high-end; it just looks like a straightforward Spanish pantry item. For recycling, it’s just a metal can, so that’s simple if your area collects metal packaging.

Where the packaging falls short is after opening. Because there’s no lid and it’s not resealable, you pretty much have to plan ahead. Either you finish the lot, or you decant it into another container. I ended up pouring everything into a glass jar, which meant another thing to wash and store. A plastic lid included in the pack would have made a big difference in day-to-day use, but you don’t get that here. This is clearly designed more for bars and tapas places that tip the whole can into a service container.

In practice, once you get used to the idea that you’ll transfer them, it’s fine, but if you’re after maximum convenience, a jar might suit you better. The Perello tin is sturdy and looks decent, just not very friendly for people who snack slowly and like to reseal things directly in the original packaging.

Durability with this kind of product is basically about shelf life and how they handle being open for a few days. The good thing about a tin like this is that, unopened, it can sit in the cupboard for a long time. Mine had a best-before date over a year away when I bought it, which is handy if you like to keep a few snack items on standby without worrying they’ll go off in a week.

Once opened, things are a bit less convenient. Since it’s a metal can with no lid, you really need to transfer the olives and brine to another container if you want to keep them more than a day. I moved mine into a small glass jar with a lid and just poured the brine over the top. Over the next five days, I dipped into them three times. The texture stayed firm and they didn’t go mushy or slimy. The heat and salt stayed the same too; they didn’t fade noticeably over that short period.

In the fridge, I didn’t see any weird colour changes. The olives stayed a solid green, maybe a tiny bit duller after a few days, but nothing drastic. No white film on the brine, no strange smell building up. I’d say as long as they’re kept covered in their liquid and in the fridge, you’re probably safe for a week after opening, maybe a bit more, though I’d personally try to finish them within that timeframe for best taste.

One small downside is that the metal can itself is single-use and slightly annoying for leftovers, so there’s a bit of waste and faff. But in terms of durability of the actual olives, they handle a few days in the fridge absolutely fine. They don’t fall apart or lose their punch quickly, which is what matters if you’re not planning to demolish the tin in one sitting.

On the ingredients side, this is where you see that these olives are made to be punchy and snacky, not some super “clean label” product. The list is: water, olives, chilli (sulphites), salt, flavour enhancers (monosodium glutamate and disodium ribonucleotides), citric acid as an acid, and potassium sorbate as a preservative. So yes, there’s MSG and other flavour enhancers in there, plus sulphites. If you’re sensitive to those or trying to avoid additives, this is not the most natural option on the shelf.

In practice, you can kind of taste that they’re boosted. The brine is very savoury, almost like it’s been seasoned like a snack rather than just a simple salt solution. Compared to a plain jar of green olives in brine, these Perello ones have a stronger umami hit and feel more “snacky”, similar to how crisps taste compared to plain boiled potatoes. I personally don’t mind MSG at all; if anything, it helps with flavour. But if you’re the type who checks every label for E-numbers, this tin will probably annoy you.

On the positive side, the ingredient list is short and clear, no random herbs or artificial colours, and they’re vegetarian. The chilli is real chilli, not just “chilli flavour”. You can see small bits in the brine. The citric acid and potassium sorbate are standard in many preserved products, so nothing shocking there. I didn’t notice any odd chemical aftertaste, which sometimes happens with cheap preserved olives; here, the taste just leans salty, spicy and savoury.

So overall: if you want something “pure” and rustic, these are not that. They’re closer to a bar snack that’s been optimised to be tasty and moreish. For everyday casual eating, I was fine with the ingredients, but I wouldn’t bring them to someone who is very strict about additives or has sulphite issues. In short: tasty, but definitely on the processed side of the olive world.

The first thing you notice is the tin format. It’s a 350g can, not a glass jar, so it feels more like something you’d get in a Spanish bar than a British supermarket. The design is simple but recognisable: white background, green and red bands, and the Perelló name in big letters. It doesn’t scream luxury, but it looks a bit more “imported” than the usual own-brand jar, which is probably part of why people like it. On the shelf or in the cupboard, it stands out enough that you can spot it quickly.

When you open the tin, you get a decent hit of olive and chilli smell straight away. It’s not subtle: briny, slightly vinegary, and a clear chilli aroma. No weird metallic smell from the can, which is good. The olives are floating in a good amount of brine, so they’re not dried out. They’re big, bright green and look quite plump. Visually, they look a lot better than the small, shrivelled green olives you often get in cheap jars.

In terms of how they’re presented inside, they’re already pitted, so no stones, which is handy for casual snacking or throwing into dishes. You will find the odd damaged or slightly squashed olive, but overall they hold their shape well. I didn’t find any bits of stem or random debris in the liquid. It’s basically open, drain a bit, and eat. No extra faff. For a simple bar snack, that’s exactly what you want.

My only complaint on presentation is that once you open the can, storing the leftovers is a bit annoying. You either have to transfer them to another container or wrap the top with cling film. A resealable lid would have been nice, but this is a classic can, so you don’t get that. Not a deal-breaker, but something to keep in mind if you don’t plan to finish the tin in one go.