CHI SPACCA’S FOCACCIA DI RECCO, OR THE CLOSEST YOU’LL GET TO IT AT HOME

DOLLOPS OF FRESH COW'S MILK CHEESE COCOONING IN BETWEEN TWO PAPER-THIN FILMS OF UNYEASTED DOUGH, AND BAKED INTO A BALLOONED AND BLISTERED PIE WITH CHEESE-FILLED UNDERGROUND CHAMBERS. [ezcol_1third][/ezcol_1third] [ezcol_1third][/ezcol_1third] [ezcol_1third_end][/ezcol_1third_end] [ezcol_1half] What is obsession?  When is it helpful and when does it get silly? Ever since that episode of Chef's Table on Nancy Silverton, I've been dwelling, not upon, but inside this subject. The episode, of course, celebrates a chef's willingness to spend an inexhaustible amount of effort to close that last short climb between what is already a great dish to a conceivably perfect one.  A distance too short and steep no doubt, for most to commit.  But to Silverton, especially when it comes to breads, being obsessed is not a question of should or shouldn't, but do you have what it takes?  I am, however, at least not today, talking about the theoretical aspect of obsessions.  Instead, I'd like to bring forth the physical one that I was sent into after watching her episode. During that show, there was about a 30-seconds scene showcasing a flatbread-looking pie, a glowing golden-brown mirage.  Captivated by that glimpse, nothing but a glimpse, without even knowing what "it" actually was, I plunged into a months-long pursuit from grasping what