There is a version of this estate that presses three times a season, blends the lots into something consistent, and ships it year round. It would be a good business. It would also be a different drink.
We press once. Everything the grove makes in a year goes through the mill across a few cold days in November, and what comes out is the vintage. There is no reserve to fall back on and no second lot to even out a difficult season. The constraint is the point: a single pressing is the only way a year gets to speak in one voice instead of being averaged into silence.
It makes the oil less predictable and more honest. A wet spring shows up in the bottle. So does a long, bright autumn. You are not buying a flavour we engineered; you are buying the record of a place across twelve months, set down in the few hours it took to press it.
That is also why we number every bottle. When there is only one pressing, the count is finite and known from the first day. This year there are three thousand one hundred and forty of them, and there will never be more.