Baking a Rustic Olive and Rosemary Focaccia

A Forgiving Loaf for First-Time Bakers

If you have ever watched a loaf of bread collapse, refuse to rise, or emerge from the oven looking like a cobblestone, focaccia is the bread that will restore your confidence. It asks for nothing more than flour, water, yeast, salt and a generous hand with the olive oil, and it forgives almost every mistake along the way. Forget about shaping, scoring and steam; this is a flat, dimpled bread that is pressed into a tin with your fingertips and topped with whatever the garden and the larder happen to offer.

The result is a golden, olive-oil-rich slab with a crisp base, a soft, airy crumb and little pools of oil caught in the dimples. It is the sort of thing you tear apart at the table while the soup cools, or set down on a board with olives, cured meats and a bowl of hummus. For anyone building a Mediterranean-inspired kitchen, it is the natural centrepiece.

Rosemary From a Pot by the Door

Rosemary is the classic focaccia herb, and it is one of the easiest plants to keep in a British garden or on a sunny windowsill. It wants full sun, sharp drainage and far less water than most people give it. Plant it in a terracotta pot with a gritty, free-draining compost, water it deeply but infrequently, and let it dry out between drinks. Overwatering is the only reliable way to kill it.

A 30cm pot will keep you supplied all year. In mild areas a sheltered border works well, but in colder parts of the country it is worth moving a container into a porch or unheated greenhouse during hard frosts. Snip sprigs rather than whole branches, always taking from the tips, and the plant will bush out. Rosemary also freezes beautifully: strip the leaves, pack them into a small bag and take out a pinch whenever you bake.

The Dough: Four Ingredients and a Little Patience

This makes one generous tray, enough for six to eight people as part of a meal. You will need:

• 500g strong white bread flour
• 7g dried fast-action yeast
• 10g fine sea salt
• 350–375ml lukewarm water
• 60ml good olive oil, plus plenty more for the tin

Stir the flour, yeast and salt together in a large bowl, keeping the salt and yeast apart at first. Pour in the water and the oil and mix with a sturdy spoon until you have a shaggy, sticky dough. Cover and leave it for twenty minutes to relax, then work it briefly with wet hands, folding the dough over itself four or five times. Repeat this fold two or three times over the next hour, resting in between.

Do not worry about kneading properly. Time does the work here. You want a dough that has roughly doubled, looks bubbly and jiggles when you shake the bowl. That can take anywhere from one to three hours depending on how warm your kitchen is.

Dimpling, Topping and the Business of Oil

Pour a good slick of olive oil into a roasting tin roughly 23cm by 33cm and spread it right into the corners. Tip in the dough and turn it once so it is coated. Now leave it alone for ten minutes, then gently stretch it towards the edges. If it springs back, wait a little longer and try again. Push it out in stages rather than forcing it.

Cover and prove for a further 45 to 60 minutes, until it is puffy and risen. Heat the oven to 220°C fan, or 240°C conventional. Oil your fingertips and press straight down into the dough, all over, making deep dimples an inch or so apart. Scatter over chopped rosemary, a handful of good black olives, a few twists of black pepper and a generous pinch of flaky sea salt. Finish with a final drizzle of oil, letting it pool in the dips.

Bake, Cool, Share

Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until the top is deeply golden and the base sounds hollow when you lift it from the tin. If the rosemary threatens to scorch, loosely tent the top with foil for the last few minutes. Resist cutting it straight away; leave it in the tin for ten minutes to settle, which keeps the crumb from turning gummy.

Serve it warm, torn or cut into rough squares, alongside a bowl of tomato and bean soup, a plate of roasted peppers, or simply a dish of olive oil and balsamic for dipping. It keeps for two days in an airtight tin, revived in a hot oven for five minutes, and freezes well in slices for toasting later.

Once you have made it a few times, start playing. Swap olives for sun-dried tomatoes, sweet red onion, or a scattering of thyme. Dab the top with pesto before baking. Bake what you grow, share it generously, and this will quietly become the bread you make most often.