Fougasse.

Italy. Stop it. Yes, you have focaccia, Leonardo and Michelangelo. You also have Fabio.

WE, on the other hand, have Monet, Sartre, and Olivier Martinez. We also have fougasse. Back when we all started experimenting with this stuff, you thought that jamming your thumbs into dough, over and over, was bellissimo. Well, guess what. We decided to sculpt ours into a cathedral. Plus, we added olives and cheese and I think that’s what you call pizza. So we invented that too. Am I being too aggressive here?

I’ve really never made fougasse until last week, because my children keep me busy with bathing and three-hour oboe concerts. I discovered that when you make it, you need to show the dough who is boss. You are in charge. This is easy for me, but it may not be for you, so take a shot of vodka and throw on the boxing gloves. Here is the recipe that will have your friends and neighbors over faster than you can say “but, wait. I really don’t like you that much.”

Bonsoir, mes fleurs.
M.