Category: recipe

Today.

Hot +

New day. =

Hot New day +

Windy =

Windy Hot New day +

Coffee =

Looks like yesterday.

Feels like yesterday.

Probably looks like tomorrow.

Yet…

“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” – Heraclitus.

Yes. It’s one of those contemplative mornings. My coffee? It was a cappuccino at a cafe. A double cappuccino with raw cane sugar. Running some errands in town gave me a few moments to just sit and observe. And the words ‘sameness,’ ‘nothing changes,’ yet ‘nothing stays the same’ entered my mind.

I think this comes from writing too much…they say writers are weird. Well, yeah. I mean, I am strolling down the street lined with shop windows filled with things, cafes, eateries, and people moving ‘to and fro,’ and all I can observe are the concepts of sameness: Nothing changes and nothing stays the same – Concepts that seemed to ‘be there’ as if they were part of the street scene… Seriously????????????????????????? Yes. Deliciously weird.

Speaking of delicious…OK. I have photos of the focaccia I made yesterday. And I do want to share its story with those interested in baking their own.

But before I post that, let me share these gorgeous little things with you:

Right??? Aren’t they beautiful? These are fresh beans from Makrinitsa, a beautiful village on Pelion Mountain—where the centaurs once roamed.

Meanwhile, back to the focaccia. I always use type M and plain white flour for bread (and for phyllo for pita).

Type M flour is a naturally gorgeous shade of light yellow, powdery, and fine-grain flour made of pure durum wheat.

I’m assuming it’s called durum flour in other countries or maybe it’s labeled as type M. It’s a gorgeous flour—very fine and very temperamental. It is a bit finicky. Being that it’s so fine, it instantly drinks up the water you give it—a bit more greedily than plain white flour. So it tends to feel very smooth and creamy when you make dough. So play with it, test it, learn its ways…flour is very responsive. And it can create anything we dream of—you just have to ‘partner’ and work with it…know its personality, quirks, and strengths and work with them, and you will be surprised what kind of results it will give you.

Always unbleached. Always. Anyway. Focaccia. Very Italian. Very Mediterranean. Very delish. I love noshing on a ‘hearty’ bread munchie—you know, like a torn piece of a rustic artisan loaf dunked in olive oil and sprinkled with salt and oregano. Or a nice piece of focaccia topped with olives, onions, peppers, and a sprinkling of cherry tomato pieces. OR a chunky slice of freshly baked bread slathered with good butter and a hearty drizzle of honey. Oh, I need to post about honey. Have you tried saffron honey? Making a note to blurb about it tomorrow. BUT I STRAY…to the focaccia!

My focaccia is slightly tweaked with the liopsomo (olive bread) and ladopsomo (olive oil bread) alchemy.

So. First let me show you the sesoula. It’s the traditional Greek measuring scoop. My sesoula is the size of a standard 1-cup measure (250 ml) more or less—so it’s 1 scoop to equal 1 cup.

For one smallish focaccia (the size of a 12-ish inch pie pan/30-ish cm pan), I use a scoop of yellow durum flour (M) and a scoop of plain white. And for the pan, I usually use my cast iron pan. Cast iron frying pans are amazing and can go in the oven, and you can use them for so many things, from bread to meats—roasting, braising, frying…

HOWEVER, since I made a small focaccia, my cast iron pan is too large, and so I used a glass pie dish. I noticed that every time I make a focaccia in the pie dish, the inside grain of the bread is ‘moister’ than the focaccia baked in the cast iron pan. I prefer cast iron, but whatever. The focaccia yesterday turned out delish.

The trick to focaccia is to know how moist you want it. I don’t do the technical song and dance of what percentage of hydration the dough is and all that. Some people need technical measurements…authentic Mediterranean cooking is based on looking at, listening to, and feeling the ingredients.

Let me walk you through the focaccia process.

Pick out your favorite bowl to prepare your dough and to let it rest and rise. I always go for plastic. I know kitschy. It is what it is.

Place it on the counter—a nice sunny spot where you will do your thing. Then, take out those playlists and start the music.

Doughs are temperamental…they pick up on your vibes just as much as they respond to the heat and humidity of the room. And we are dealing with water, and water is life; it picks up and carries the frequencies, the vibes, the mood, and the energies. So, have the bowl out and the music playing?

Good. Grab a whisk, the olive oil, and the salt. Place them near your bowl.

Then take out the yeast and the sugar. You will need them now because we are ready to go. You will need a good teaspoon and a half of dry yeast—or one packet of dry yeast if you have the premeasured packets.

Add the yeast and around 2 tsps of sugar to the bowl. Whisk to combine. Then run the hot water and fill around a full cup (250 ml) and a half. Add the water to the yeast and whisk them well. Let the yeast/water/sugar mixture rest for a few minutes. It will get foamy and bubbly.

Ok? Ready for the next step? Good. Put the phone down. Right??? Anyway…

Now, add the scoop (1 full cup) of yellow durum flour and the scoop (1 full cup) of white all-purpose flour onto the yeast mixture, BUT DON’T COMBINE IT YET.

Easy so far, right? Well…it is easy.

BUT now you need to tune in to the dough you are about to make. So add a good tsp or two of salt to this uncombined heap and a generous blurb of olive oil, say 2 or 3 tbsps.

NOW is the fun part. You need to combine these ingredients. I use a Maryse spatula. That is a rubber or silicone bowl scraper spatula that is used for batters or icing spreading. Some people like to use a wooden spoon (the kou-tá-la) to combine these very soft dough ingredients.

Before we combine, this ⬇️ is what the dough will look like. This is what you are aiming to achieve.

The dough will be ‘shaggy’ and wet and soft. Its texture will remind you of a very thick and lumpy batter—and it will look as thick and sloppy as cold, thick, lumpy porridge. It is supposed to be this way. Some people make their dough even wetter—like a very jiggly, loose batter texture. That’s what the hydration ratio is all about. If you want a jigglier dough, you will add a bit more water to your dough bowl. I find shaggy, thicker dough that is soft is easier to work with.

Ah…the key words. Work with. Let’s work with the dough now.

Using the maryse or wooden spoon (or even your hands, whatever works best), slowly combine the ingredients. Work them in, combine them, and you will see a shaggy, thick batter forming. Now. Take the maryse/or whatever you use/hands and gently lift an ‘end’ of this doughy mass up from its end and stretch/bend/lift it to reach towards the center. Do this a few times on each side.

Easy. I love to stretch and flip the dough—it is soooo much better than kneading. But doing it with one hand because I need to hold this tablet with the other to record the ‘stretching’ is awkward. LOL.

Anyway. Once you do this a few times around the dough, cover the bowl. And let the dough rest. I cover my bowl with a lid and then put some kitchen towels on top.

Repeat this stretching process every 15 minutes or so for 1 hour. You will see that the dough gets thicker and more ‘solid’—and it’s still jiggly and ‘wet.’

Once you have done the stretch 4 times (1 hour) (that sounds like yoga) (anyway), cover the bowl and let it rest/rise for another hour.

While you are waiting, now is the perfect time to take out the veggies. I used thinly sliced potatoes, green peppers, onions, cherry tomatoes, and large Amfissa olives. I never used to put potatoes, but I saw that this is very common in Italy, and here in Greece we have a patatopita (potatoes between the phyllo in a pita). So why not carb out?

Wash, dry, and thinly slice the veggies. Season with some oregano if you like, or some dried chili flakes, and you’re set to go.

****Oh…sometimes I thinly slice portobello mushrooms and add them as well. Delish. Trust me, and preheat your oven to 200°C standard up/down heat (convection will dry it out).

So. Trust me. Oil that pan WELL. GENEROUSLY. VERY.

Now has that dough finished its hour-long beauty nap already?

If so, uncover the bowl and slip that dough into that over-oiled pan. And give it a jiggle so it spreads. Now, lovies, listen to me—wet your hands and pour some oil on them and sink your fingers in the dough, leaving your indents as you jiggle away. This creates those gorgeous bumps and bubbles.

Look—tangos are going on here. First it’s the dough in the OILY pan. I’m talking puddle-y and oiled. And the second torrid tango is between your wet and oily fingers and the oily dough.

Had fun? Good. NOW: the veg.

Gently top the jiggly dough in the oily pan with your thinly sliced veggies. And some salt. And then drizzle that olive oil generously over the topping. Don’t skimp; drizzle like mad—she’s a drama queen without her oil.

Into the oven she goes to do her thing. Let your gorgeous focaccia bake for about an hour—but you know your oven, and your oven and I have never been introduced, so you know best. An hour? 45 minutes? 50 Minutes? An hour and 5? Whatever. You will know.

And that was the focaccia I mentioned yesterday.

Did you think I skipped my book perusal this morning? Old habits die hard, lovies…. I may have come home way after breakfast, but I still chose a book and looked through it to catch a gorgeously written blip I might have missed. And I will explain why I do this…there is a reason behind this madness—believe me.

I will post that immediately.

Don’t want to offend the focaccia by taking its spotlight. She is such a diva of a bread.