One night on a recent trip, I stood in the narrow, labyrinthine streets of the old southern Italian city of Bari, Puglia, in the heel of Italy’s boot. A crowd had gathered with an air of anticipation outside a shop. Concert tickets about to go on sale? A celebrity sighting? Flash mob in wait? Nope, they were waiting outside Panificio Santa Rita, a local bakery, to purchase fresh focaccia.
I’m not talking slices or even a single baking sheet’s worth of it: People emerged from the doors with their arms filled with stacked waxed-paper bags of the stuff, presumably for a large family meal. The day before, I witnessed the same sort of crowd at lunchtime in front of Panificio Fiore, not far away. I’ve eaten my share of focaccia, and I like it well enough, but this was something next-level.
