We found ourselves stopped in the small fishing village of Camogli for a few hours while driving up the Italian coast. Since it was between breakfast and lunch, and we didn’t want to eat too much for lunch, Will and I ended up noshing on a variety of focaccia, which must be the official bread in Liguria.
There was thin, delicate focaccia with a heavenly melted cheese in the center. The top layer of the focaccia was so thin that the cheese just oozed up over the top.
Then there was olive focaccia with good olives.
Then there was anchovies on tomato focaccia, which was full of savory saltiness.
Then there was my favorite, fresh sardine focaccia, that tasted rich, oily, and reminded me of the sea.
Then there was my second favorite, the porcini and potato focaccia. Will claimed that that slice of focaccia had as many porcini on it as he had in ten years prior to this.
One of the best parts about stopping in at a focacceria is the no-nonsense of it. Point at the focaccia you want, indicate how big a slice you want, they cut it, weigh it, wrap it up in some paper, and give it to you to eat. Instant gratification.
And you can hardly complain when you walk out of the bakery and you’re met with this view.
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