Sourdough Focaccia

Focaccia belongs to the Ligurian coast, where bakers have dimpled and oiled this bread for centuries. But the technique belongs to anyone willing to learn it. When you add sourdough to the equation, you gain something industrial yeast cannot provide: depth, complexity, and a crust that crackles with character.

The process takes time but demands little effort. Your hands touch the dough perhaps four times over two days. The rest is patience. Fermentation does the heavy lifting while you live your life. The wild yeasts in your starter produce carbon dioxide slowly, building an open crumb structure that store-bought focaccia can only dream about.

I've watched students panic at the sight of high-hydration dough. It looks wrong. Wet, sticky, impossible to control. Trust the process. This shaggy mess transforms through folding and time into something supple and alive. The olive oil coating isn't just for flavor. It protects the dough, keeps it moist, and fries the bottom to golden perfection in a hot oven.

Make this bread once. You'll understand why Italian grandmothers guarded their starters like family heirlooms.