Friselle con Pomodoro e Origano

Friselle are survival food. They were baked twice to drive out every trace of moisture, then stored for months in the pantries of Pugliese farmers, shepherds, and fishermen. When hunger called, water brought them back to life. This is not romantic. This is practical. This is how people ate when refrigeration did not exist and fresh bread was a luxury.

The genius of friselle lies in their texture after hydration. They should be softened but not soggy, with enough structure to hold the tomatoes without collapsing into mush. You dip them briefly, you do not drown them. The rough, porous surface catches the tomato juices and olive oil in ways that smooth bread never could.

What goes on top requires restraint that Americans find difficult. Ripe tomatoes, crushed or diced. Dried oregano, not fresh. Salt. And olive oil, the magnificent oil of Puglia, which produces more of it than any other region in Italy. That is all. No balsamic. No mozzarella. No basil. What you keep out is as significant as what you put in.