You tear into a dimpled slab that is almost as much oil as dough, salt crunching under the tooth. Thin enough to fold, gold at the edges, the dimples holding little pools of brine. You want that frankly wet, unruly look — Liguria likes it that way.
Genoa's breakfast, eaten walking to work, sometimes split and filled. Ligurian fugassa is not the high, spongy focaccia of tourist ovens; height is a vice. The bakers of the old port still sell it by the slice, warm, wrapped in paper.
Dimple deeply with oiled fingers. Pour oil and water into the holes. Bake hard, then oil again as it leaves the oven. Eat it the same day.
Method
- 01
In a bowl, mix the flour, lukewarm water, yeast, salt, and two tablespoons of the oil until you have a soft, slightly sticky dough. Knead it on the counter until it is smooth and elastic, five to eight minutes — it should feel lively under your palm, not tight. Cover the bowl and let it rise for an hour, until it has puffed and smells gently yeasty. Don't rush this; a short rise makes a tight crumb.
- 02
Oil a shallow baking tray generously — Ligurian focaccia is almost as much oil as dough, so don't be timid. Stretch the dough to fill the tray, pressing it into the corners. Let it rest twenty minutes so the gluten relaxes, then dimple it deeply with oiled fingers, right down to the pan. Those dimples are not decoration; they hold the brine.
- 03
Stir together two tablespoons of oil and two tablespoons of water and pour this little brine into the dimples, so each hollow holds a shining pool. Scatter flaky salt over the surface — you want a crunch under the tooth later, so be more generous than you would with bread. The dough should look frankly wet and a little unruly. That is exactly how Genoa likes it.
- 04
Bake at 450°F until the focaccia is gold at the edges and the dimples have set, eighteen to twenty minutes. Pull it from the oven and oil it again at once, while it can still drink — a thin film over the whole slab. Let it sit just long enough to handle, then eat it the same day. Height is a vice here; thin enough to fold is the goal.
