“STOP! DON’T TAKE ANOTHER BITE.” ( I guess the bread was soooo tempting “we” could not even wait for Mary’s photo op. Yeah, they look contrite!

Let’s see if I have this straight. In Italy, it’s focaccia. In France, fougasse. The names of both breads are derived from focus, the Latin word for “fireplace”. These flatbreads were originally cooked on a hot hearthstone or in ashes rather than an oven. Not often seen in a Parisian boulangerie, fougasse is “rooted in Provence,” as Dorie explains, “where olive oil trumps butter and rusticity reigns over prim, precise, and formal.”

The finished product. Think of this as a leaf from the Tree of Life.

In a word, fougasse may not be très chic or Parisian-sophistiqué but it sure is délicieux. Now, leave it to the French to get fancy. Fougasse is often cut in a leaf shape to suggest the Tree of  Life. To make the traditional pattern, you slash 2-inch slits in the dough and then nudge and tug the slits open. Honestly, that “technique”  caused me the most stress. To check that the holes remained holes, I opened the oven five times to monitor the nine openings and managed to burn my right thumb twice!

Fougasse is a yeast-raised bread seasoned with olive oil, fresh rosemary and studded with oil-cured black olives. There is nothing difficult about mixing the dough and shaping it into flatbread ( the recipe makes two). I did let the dough rise for two hours before stirring it down to chill overnight and shaping and baking it.

The dough, after rising two hours, before stirring it down to chill in the fridge.

After deflating the dough,I placed it safely in the fridge for an overnight slumber . Note the soldiers on guard.

 

 

Dorie gives explicit and excellent directions as to shaping fougasse. It’s amazing how nicely a 12” X 9 “ rectangle can be transformed into a leaf. Here, a slash. There, a slash. Everywhere a slash, slash. Viola. Done. It is important, however, for tasty results that the bread be at least one-inch thick.

Please note that fougasse will not bake too dark. Its brown will be a golden hue. The salt on top? I used Diamond Crystal Kosher Salt, author Michael Ruhlman’s salt-of-choice.

The rectangle prior to surgery.

Slash, Pull, Tug, Pray.

 

 

The definition of chutzpah may be sharing your first attempt at fougasse with my five-star neighbors, Ray Dillion and Dominick Prudenti, former East Coast delicatessen owners. As well as, Sicilian-born-and-bred, Adriana Scrima and her family. Relying on Dorie’s every word and explicit directions, I baked pretty darn good fougasse. Pat Mary on the back. Although my neighbors all lean Italian focaccia, my French fougasse earned some respect.

Oven-ready.

 

I would suggest the fougasse ultimate Provençal eating experience is with savory bites and a glass of Sancerre while dreaming of the Côte d’Azur. That’s, of course, reality. Far better is to just BE there.

Although we cook from the book and urge you to purchase Dorie’s “Around My French Table”, go here for this recipe.   To see how my baking buddies did this week, go here.

Demolished before the pasta dinner. No contrition. Note the basalmic – a good companion.