My mom is the “focaccia master” of the family. She has fiddled with several recipes over the years, and we were always more than happy to be on the receiving end of her baking experiments. Her standard way to receive guests is serving small squares of warm soft focaccia right next to a very large plate of freshly sliced prosciutto from San Daniele. HEAVEN.
She usually doesn’t go beyond adding a few olives or a few sprigs of rosemary on top. As simple and inviting as it is, I really wanted to try and take her focaccia to another level…And I think I did!
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Isn’t it amusing when a word changes its meaning when used in a different country or culture? I can’t help but think of that GEICO spot that’s been running on TV, with kids playing in a backyard pool yelling “Marco!” ,”Polo!”, “Marco!”, “Polo!”; the baffled Italian explorer, with his chest deep in the water and dressed in 13th century clothes, desperately tries to make himself noticed: “Ragazzi, sono io Marco Polo!”. When I first saw it on TV, I was confused just like poor Marco Polo. I was able to get the humor, only after my husband explained the game to me. Now, every time I see it, I crack up!
As my little Italian tribute to Oktoberfest, I managed to put some fine dark beer in the most iconic of all Italian desserts: tiramisu’!