A metaphorical postcard #3

Bubbled and blistered focaccia, my way

It must be said that there are indeed many ways in which you might put together a tray of focaccia, and I am certainly not beholden to one particular technique, thought I do have my favourites. There are countless methods that you might find, most will work, some are rubbish, but generally it’s an easy bread to make.

It is a loaf where it is essential to get your hands dirty, a wet dough that will stick to your fingers, your wristwatch and all of the hairs on your arms. Indeed you will likely find small smears of it in all sorts of places for a day or two after making it, perhaps welded deeply into the suede of your shoe for instance, sticking to almost everything that it comes into contact with. It is a loaf where it rings true to say ‘the wetter the better’, though it must be said that with no chasing tension around the bench and with no shaping of any sort needed, the hydration point can be over eighty percent quite happily, as once ready it will transfer to the tin as a big spongey gloop, filling the edges of the pan on its own with only a little gentle coaxing with your fingertips. It will rise for a few hours before it bakes, light and soft, waiting to be dimpled with wet fingers, pushing softly down into the dough to bring up the bubbles.

Rude

I posted a note earlier in the week along with a photo of a tray of focaccia, as I was quite taken with the trembling dimpled tray of wet dough I had made, the little bubbles of gas that were built into the layers as the dough rested. Clearly from the response to that note, it is the least I can do to share how I do this.

I’m trying to avoid the word ‘recipe’ as I don’t like it for some reason.

And that I’m not a recipe machine.

And I would like to believe that I’m more of a storyteller.

With measurements.

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To choose

Now, depending on what I need on the day, I might choose a method that is yeast-powered, quick and very delicious, or if I feel I can wait for a day and a night, I’ll use a slower sourdough method that is ever so chewy and crusty on top, rich and burnished with baked oily blisters, air pockets and bubbles that form throughout the structure, sharp crystals of salt that hide in the dimpled ‘eyes’ and with slightly scorched corners that taste of how good bread should.

A dough that is folded and stretched over a day, begun with the wild yeasts of a sourdough starter, building structure where the small bubbles of air are trapped as the dough expands, rested for a night in the fridge to encourage its slow fermentation, building its fabric at a snail’s pace, then the next morning preheating the oven to blistering hot, drenching the surface of the overnight dough with the salamoia, a glossy mixed sheen of olive oil, water and salt that is liberally spooned over to season and give shine and texture to the crust as it bakes. And then there are times where I use a sourdough method with the addition of a little yeast, not too much, just a small spoonful added to ensure that if I begin in the morning I can bake happily in the late afternoon. One day of beating, lifting and folding with four quarter-turns every hour, then scraped out from the bowl with a bench knife and left to fill the pan as it rises. Dimpling again to encourage the bubbles upwards, and then baking hot, very hot, to a deep golden brown, slightly caught at its edges, crisp and charred.

A pale loaf of bread can look a miserable thing, lacking that deep flavour of a slightly burnt crust. I bake loaves mostly with ovens turned to full, reluctant to remove the loaf until it is quite dark. Not that there is indeed anything wrong with a pale loaf, but life for me has always been about creating good flavour, that is my skill I believe, and it must be said that it is in those crisp charred corners of the crusts of salty bread, that is where the most flavour is found.

I am opinionated about such things.

Cut into squares, the Italian way, crisp on the bottom, dark, bumpy, chewy and salty on top in the traditional manner, the bread wrapped in paper, shiny with the bursts of oil that weep from the warm dough as it waits in its folded paper jacket. It is said that in Italy, a slice of focaccia is very good when dipped in strong coffee first thing in the morning, though it is also said by Giulio who knows about such things, that a single measure of espresso drawn over a shot of Campari is also an excellent breakfast.

I digress.

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Focaccia, my way.

This method calls for sourdough starter and a small amount of yeast. For purists, know that I’m not too pedantic about such things. The yeast can most definitely be left out, although that way the dough must be cold retarded overnight to allow it to do its thing. With a little yeast, you will have the best of both worlds, though you won’t need much. Half a teaspoon perhaps, just enough to start the dough off.

The lifting, stretching and folding will give the dough strength. It will be very much alive and will be worth spending a day over.

I don’t use a machine to mix bread dough, just a metal bowl or two and a scraper/bench knife.

You will need

450g ‘00’ flour

170g Strong bread flour

20ml Olive oil

450ml Water, hand warm

12g Sea salt

120g Active sourdough starter, fed

1/2 teaspoon Yeast ( If you prefer not to use it then carry on but proof overnight after folding)

How to

Pour the warm water into a bowl and add the yeast, leaving it for five minutes to bubble a little, then add the starter.

Pour this over the two flours and with the corner of a bench scraper, begin to mix the dough to a smooth mass, slowly beating it against the bowl with the scraper for about five minutes. It will become very smooth and elastic.

Leave the dough to rest for a few minutes, then pour in the olive oil and resume working it with the scraper again for another five minutes. It will be very smooth and glossy.

Using the scraper, work the dough into a large bowl, cover and leave for half an hour.

Now it’s time for four sets of stretches and four quarter turns every half an hour please. This is how…

Using your fingers, grab the edge of the dough from underneath and pull it up high, folding it back over the top. Turn the bowl ninety degrees and pull up again and fold over. Turn the bowl again ninety degrees and repeat the stretches and folds until you have turned the bowl three sixty degrees. (Four quarter-turns)

Cover again and wait half an hour.

Repeat three more times, waiting half an hour between each set.

You will feel the dough growing and filling with air.

Be gentle, you want to keep the structure you are creating.

Take a non stick metal oven tray, approximately 20cm x 30cm and add a good couple of splashes of olive oil, working it up and around the base and the sides.

When the folding and turning is complete, transfer the dough, gently ease the dough into the prepared tin, using your fingers to tease it towards the corners. It will fill up the tin by itself so don’t fret.

Cover with cling film and wait for half an hour, then uncover the tray, wet your hands with cold water and gently press the dough toward the edges, cover again and wait an hour.

With wet hands again, using the tips of your fingers gently press downwards into the dough to create small dimples. Don’t be too rough or you’ll knock out the air.

Cover again and leave to rise away from any draughts for another two to three hours.

Finally, uncover and with wet fingers, press out some more dimples. The bubbles should rise as you push.

Preheat the oven to 240 Celsius

Leave the risen dough uncovered for ten or fifteen minutes to let the bubbles grow and prepare the salamoia to glaze the bread.

Salamoia

60ml water

60 ml olive oil

10g flaked sea salt

Mix together in a jug.

It is ready.

To finish

Use a spoon to cover the surface of the dough with the salamoia mixture, then place the pan in the centre of a hot oven for about half an hour.

As the oven is very hot, the bread will colour quite deeply. I like this. If you don’t, then you could adjust the oven down a little and keep an eye on the colour, but know that when its deeply coloured it is delicious.

After about twenty five minutes or so, take out the tray and leave it to cool for a while, then turn the bread out onto a rack to cool. If you have used a non stick pan then this should be no issue. If you have used something that has a tendency to stick, then a rubber spatula is helpful to free any stuck corners, though I recommend using non stick as far as possible.

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Dough…

The temptation for the inexperienced bread maker when faced with high hydration dough is to believe that adding flour will surely help.

This is not so. It is actually the opposite.

Wet doughs are light, airy and open in texture when handled correctly. Yes there are often corrections we can make when making loaves, and over years of breadmaking sometimes variables change and there are differences from one day to another, and when faced with a sticky wet dough in your bowl you might fear all has gone wrong.

You must have faith.

I work puddles of almost liquid like dough most days around my breadmaking table quite happily gathering it up with my fingers and a scraper, giving structure and strength as I work the mixture to a tacky ball. This focaccia has the bonus of not leaving the bowl until it is encouraged into the tray in which it will cook.

Easy.

I’m quite sure it will work itself out for you.

Until next time

William