The Layered Focaccia of Turi...Fecàzze a sfuègghie

In Turi, the scent of warm olive oil does not announce a meal: it announces a ritual.

It is the sound and aroma of oil sizzling between impossibly thin layers of dough, in the warm, hushed atmosphere of a wood-fired oven. Here, this focaccia has never needed explanations: its true name is Fecàzze a sfuègghie.

Not a simple variation of the classic Bari focaccia, but an ancient gesture, repeated with care and respect. A form of rural intelligence that has transformed a handful of essential ingredients into a masterpiece of technique and flavour.

A humble food, a rich knowledge

Like many traditional Apulian leavened breads, Fecàzze a sfuègghie has humble origins: flour, water, yeast and salt. Yet one ingredient changes everything, marking the boundary between the everyday and the festive: extra virgin olive oil. Here it is not merely a seasoning, but a structural element. It separates the layers, gives them crispness, and allows the grain to speak.

For this reason, in Turi, this focaccia was not an everyday food. It was prepared on Sundays, for special occasions, on days when something was being celebrated. A dish of distinction, a silent symbol of prosperity.

The art of layering

The secret lies not in the ingredients, but in the ritual.The risen dough is rolled out extremely thin, a fragile veil that requires skilled hands. Then comes the oil, generously brushed on, creating a clear separation between each fold.

In the oldest Turi tradition — now almost entirely forgotten — the surface was spread with chenzèrve ascuànte, a spicy tomato preserve, or with chenzèrve scescète, a preserve made from tomatoes and peppers. These pantry staples spoke of domestic ingenuity and the bold flavours of the past, used not to overpower, but to give character to the focaccia and accompany the oil.

The dough was then folded over itself, like a book, trapping oil and preserve between its “pages”. That is where the magic happened: during baking, the layers would separate and rise, becoming crisp on the outside and soft within.

The oven and history

The word focaccia itself comes from the Latin focus — hearth or fireplace. Historically, it was the first dough placed into the wood-fired oven, used to “test” the temperature before baking bread. A simple but essential gesture, tying focaccia to the daily rhythm of domestic and communal baking.

The book-style or layered focaccia, typical of the quadrilateral formed by Turi, Sammichele, Casamassima and Gioia del Colle, has documented roots dating back to the late eighteenth century. A tradition that has crossed centuries and today survives more in memory than in daily practice.

While remaining faithful to its essential soul — flour, water, yeast, oil and salt — layered focaccia changes voice as it travels across the land. Each village adds what it has, what it preserves: in some areas, mashed potato is incorporated into the dough to make it softer and more generous; elsewhere, cherry tomatoes, black olives, capers or even raisins find their way between the folds. These variations do not betray tradition — they tell it. Because in Puglia, bread is never exactly the same, and every layer carries the landscape it comes from.

A name that holds the soul

To say Fecàzze a sfuègghie is not merely to speak dialect.It is to evoke a precise gesture, a shared knowledge, a grammar of making passed down without written recipes. It is the language of ovens, flour-covered hands, and slow mornings.

When it comes out of the oven, it is deeply browned, crisp, resonant under the fingers. Inside, the layers open up, glossy with oil, scented with durum wheat and Puglia itself. It is not a focaccia to be eaten in haste: it is broken, listened to, shared.

Today, Fecàzze a sfuègghie is sadly a nearly forgotten dish, entrusted more to memory than to active ovens. And yet, precisely for this reason, it deserves to be preserved in our collective memory. Because tasting it — when it happens — is not simply eating bread and oil: it is experiencing something rare, profound and unrepeatable.

A fragment of history that endures in a single layer.And as long as it is remembered, it will continue to live.

Sources & Credits

Text reworked by Miriam Valentini.

Photo credits: Rosa Arrè, personal archive.