Focaccia is Pizza’s classy cousin. She looks down on everyone else from above, turns her nose up at those greasy late-night parties that pizza is always down for, and she’s rolling in dough. And while Pizza is so often gussied up with questionable accessories (don’t worry, I still love you, pineapple), Focaccia has managed to retain a refined sensibility, shirking any over-the-top accoutrements.

Exception to the rule

Actually, I know of one exception to this from my my days at university. At the food court on campus, you could find woks searing out their next stir-fry next to slow-cooked middle-eastern stews, rubbing shoulders with burger joints and a hole-in-the-wall sushi shop (uni students are not the most refined eaters). In between them all, was a store that sold a bread-heavy pizza/focaccia mash-up that was guaranteed to leave you in a food coma (not ideal when the rest of your afternoon was packed with lectures on thermodynamics). Unfortunately, the toppings just weren’t enough to make up for the burden of dense bread. I digress, but there is are a few lessons here: make sure your Focaccia is light and airy, and make sure the toppings are the icing on the proverbial cake.

Sourdough is next level

But what of sourdough Focaccia? Well, I guess she’s the older but no less graceful mother. She resembles her daughter, but sourdough has lived longer and had more time to develop complexity and character.

In fact, Focaccia starts out in much the same way as any other bread—with that unassuming combination of flour, water, salt and yeast—but with something golden that elevates it, and which imparts incredible richness. Olive oil is added at almost every stage—a little when you’re mixing the dough, as a bed to rest on for its first proof, as a gentle lubricant in its final resting place; and then—as if that weren’t enough—a baptism in the final act. When you’re done, your hands will be well moisturised.

Focaccia is fermented slowly over a long period to develop beautiful flavour. Because it’s a bread-heavy affair and since there’s no concern with butter falling through the cracks, I prefer mine with lots of flavour and obscenely large bubbles. Push it further than you would with a boule or a batard; leave it as far as you dare. A shallow dish will contain it and provide structure in lieu of a stronger dough. When it’s done, it pulls apart like marshmallow, and has just the right amount of resistance when you bite into it.

Simplicity

There’s something simple about making Focaccia too. No stress about developing strength, a few fresh ingredients, vague proofing times. It’s perfect for lazy afternoons. If you close your eyes, you can almost sense the dappled sunlight reaching you from an overhead grape vine.

One of my favourite combinations could not be simpler or tastier: home-grown tomatoes, a smattering of aged cheese, flecks of mild chilli, olive oil, salt. Just enough to let the bread shine through and subtly complement it.

If true style is timeless, then it turns out that Focaccia was right all along: simple is best.