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Created by Chef Graziella
Liguria's olive-oil-drenched focaccia, dimpled and golden, split and piled with thick-sliced mortadella from Bologna. Two regional masterpieces that need nothing else.
In Genoa, focaccia is not bread. It is a category unto itself, baked in great sheets in bakeries that have made nothing else for generations. The dough is wet, nearly a batter, stretched into pans slicked with enough olive oil to make cautious cooks nervous. The dimples hold pools of oil that fry the surface while the interior stays soft. The bottom crisps against the hot pan. The top blisters with salt.
Mortadella is the great pork sausage of Bologna, two hundred kilometers east. Ground so fine it becomes a mousse, studded with cubes of pure white fat, sometimes pistachios, scented with myrtle and coriander. It is not the rubbery pink disk that Americans call bologna. That insult shares only a name.
This sandwich requires no sauce, no cheese, no lettuce or tomato. The focaccia, still warm from the oven or cooled to room temperature, provides richness and texture. The mortadella provides pork fat and aromatic depth. What you keep out is as significant as what you put in. The Genovese and the Bolognese understood this long before either of us arrived.
Focaccia Genovese dates to at least the medieval period, when Ligurian bakers discovered that abundant local olive oil transformed simple flatbread into something extraordinary. The pairing with mortadella bridges two regions that rarely agreed on anything except this: when the bread is this good and the salume this honest, you add nothing else.
Quantity
500g
Quantity
10g
Quantity
7g
Quantity
400ml
Quantity
100ml, plus more for pan and finishing
Quantity
for finishing
Quantity
400g
sliced thick, about 3mm
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| bread flour | 500g |
| fine sea salt | 10g |
| instant yeast | 7g |
| warm water | 400ml |
| extra virgin olive oil | 100ml, plus more for pan and finishing |
| flaky sea salt | for finishing |
| mortadellasliced thick, about 3mm | 400g |
In a large bowl, combine the flour, fine salt, and yeast. Add the warm water and mix with your hands until a shaggy, sticky dough forms. Add half the olive oil and work it in with your fingers, squeezing and folding until the oil is absorbed. The dough will be very wet. This is correct. Genovese focaccia is not a stiff dough.
Cover the bowl tightly with plastic wrap. Let the dough rise at room temperature until doubled, about one and a half hours. The time depends on your kitchen. In summer it will be faster. In winter, slower. Watch the dough, not the clock.
Pour half of the remaining olive oil into a 30 by 40 centimeter rimmed baking sheet (a half sheet pan). Tip the pan to coat the bottom completely. The oil should pool generously. Focaccia Genovese demands olive oil. Do not be timid.
Scrape the risen dough into the oiled pan. With oiled fingers, gently stretch it toward the edges. The dough will resist. Let it rest five minutes, then stretch again. Repeat until the dough reaches the edges of the pan. If it springs back stubbornly, wait. Patience with dough is never wasted.
Drizzle the remaining olive oil over the surface. Using all ten fingertips, press straight down into the dough to create the characteristic dimples. The dimples should reach nearly to the bottom of the pan. These pockets hold olive oil and create the texture that defines this bread. Cover loosely and let rise 45 minutes.
Heat your oven to 220°C (425°F). Dimple the dough again, pressing firmly. Scatter flaky salt over the surface. Bake until deeply golden on top and the bottom is crisp and caramelized, 22 to 25 minutes. The underside should be as golden as the top. If not, your oven runs cool. Give it more time.
Transfer the focaccia to a wire rack immediately. If left in the pan, steam will soften the bottom. Let it cool at least 20 minutes before cutting. Hot bread, though tempting, does not slice cleanly and the crumb is still setting.
Cut the focaccia into six rectangles, then split each horizontally. The interior should be open and slightly chewy, the bottom crisp. Fold thick slices of mortadella loosely and pile them generously on the bottom half. Do not flatten the mortadella. The folds create texture and allow the fat to be appreciated. Close with the top half. That is all.
1 serving (about 225g)
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