Pane di Lariano

In the hills south of Rome, in the town of Lariano, bakers have made this bread since before anyone thought to write down recipes. The women who shaped these loaves did not measure. They knew by the feel of the dough against their hands, by the sound of the crust when tapped, by the way the crumb tore when pulled. You will learn to know these things too.

This is not a bread for the impatient. The dough ferments slowly, developing the complex sourness that distinguishes true sourdough from the imposters. The loaves are large because they must be: the thick crust that forms in a proper oven would overwhelm a small loaf. Inside, the crumb stays moist for days, improving in flavor as the starches continue to change.

Americans expect bread to be soft. They expect it the day it is baked. Pane di Lariano asks you to wait. Cut into it on the second day and you will understand. By the third day, the flavor has deepened into something that makes you reconsider everything you thought you knew about bread. What you keep out, the preservatives and the dough conditioners, is as significant as what you put in.