Fall Focaccia

This is the true story of my baking sheet's last day of service.

It all started with Ripe, in which Nigel Slater makes a couple of curious focaccias that are neither entirely sweet nor entirely savory. I'm talking about blackberry focaccia and grape focaccia. Then, on a whim and with no real plan, I bought a tub of ricotta, which I've only previously purchased as a lasagna ingredient. But this wasn't just any ricotta: it was ricotta made by the Southern Californian cheesemaker who makes the best burrata I've ever tasted. Then, later the same day, I found myself flipping through Lucid Food and seeing that she makes a not-entirely savory focaccia too and that she advises serving it alongside ricotta. You don't say.

And so, this is how I came to place focaccia dough on an oiled baking sheet and then coat that dough in a layer of fruit and honey. And this is how the corners of my baking sheet, pooling with that mixture of oil and honey, turned into a black crisp mass that would never leave the surface of that baking sheet no matter how hard Bar Keepers Friend and I worked at it.

But it's OK. Don't feel sorry for me, at least not about this. I had it coming. For three reasons.

1. I slightly overcooked it.

2. I should have placed the pan in the middle of the oven as opposed to closer to the bottom (where I'd moved the rack for a previous baking venture and decided that it probably wouldn't matter much where the focaccia was placed in the oven as long as I'm convection cooking anyway.)
3. I don't think I really understand when to turn the oven knob to convection and when to not.

If you're a regular reader, you're probably wondering what my fascination is with bready things topped with plums. Well, in all fairness to this category of foods, the similarities between that kuchen and this focaccia end there. The kuchen was like a delicious version of some kind of semi-familiar coffee cake, but this focaccia—even burnt as it was on the bottom—was decidedly more exciting, almost soft-pretzel-esque. And highly addictive, particularly with the ricotta on the side.

My advice to you, Readers? Parchment! Or, in the words of Matt, as he took his turn scrubbing the pan, "I don't understand why we don't always use parchment paper."

But could we go back to the notion of feeling sorry for me for just a second? Thanks! See, my dad—a sometimes reader of this blog—once told me that the worst thing you can do is feel sorry for yourself. And despite, or perhaps, because of this directive, I've developed really strong wallowing skills, some of which I may have exhibited this week.

And while I don't believe that it's the worst thing one can do, I do think that at the end of a wallowing session, one should spend some time evening things out. So, with that said, I'd like to say thank you to Matt, for his endless supply of support. And to Kate, a reader I met at the My Berlin Kitchen reading, who was kind enough to tap me on the shoulder and tell me she looks forward to my posts each week. Thank you also to those of you who have spotted me where I work and said you were a reader or a fan. In short, thank you to anyone who has ever encouraged me in the slightest. It's definitely what's kept me going when I've doubted my choice to try and be a creative individual. And speaking of encouraging, let's finish with a few other encouraging things happening in the world:

1. VIBRANT: A Celebration of Color and Food
2. Lovesick Dog
3. Signs of Autumn?
4. The Rattling Wall, Issue 3: Reading and Release!
4. This music video

Fall Fruit Focaccia slightly adapted from Lucid Food
2 tablespoons active dry yeast
1 tablespoon organic white sugar
5 teaspoons salt
5 cups flour, plus more for kneading
1/4 cup olive oil, plus more as needed
1 cup honey, plus more for serving
3 cups sliced ripe fall fruit, such as figs, plums, seedless grapes, peeled apples, or peeled pears
1/4 cup barley malt syrup (I didn't have this on hand, so left it out altogether.)
Fresh ricotta for serving

Crumble the yeast in a small bowl. Add 1/2 cup warm water and the sugar and stir with your fingers until the yeast is dissolved. Set the bowl in a warm place until the yeast starts to foam and bubble, about 5 minutes. Don't let the yeast develop for more than 10 minutes, or it can become inactive.

In a large bowl, stir 4 teaspoons salt into the flour. Make a hole in the middle of the flour and pour in the yeast mixture, 3/4 cup water, the 1/4 cup olive oil, and 1/2 cup of the honey. Coat your hands with olive oil and mix until you have a uniform dough.

Turn the dough onto a floured board and knead for 5 minutes, then transfer the dough to a bowl and drizzle with olive oil. Cover with a dampl cloth and put the bowl in a warm place until the dough doubles in size, 60 to 80 minutes.

Cover a 17 by 12-inch rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper and oil it. Coat your hands with olive oil too. Turn the dough onto the parchment-lined baking sheet and press it out to the edges. Make dimples with your fingers all over the dough. (The dimpling helps to hold the honey and barley malt.) Press in the fruit. Cover the pan with a damp cloth and retun to a warm place to rise again for 45 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 425F. Combine the remaining 1/2 cup honey with the barley malt (if you have it) in a small saucepan and bring to a simmer over low heat. Press the dough back out to the edges of the pan if it has shrunk. Brush the warm honey mixture over the fruit and dough and sprinkle with 1 teaspoon salt. Bake the focaccia for 15 minutes. Rotate the pan and bake until the top is firm and golden, about 10 minutes.

Serve warm with ricotta and honey if desired. The focaccia is best eaten the day it is made.