We went to Sardinia a couple of years ago. There, in a tiny village of Baunei, I ate the best focaccia of my life. It was soft and fluffy on the inside, and crispy on the outside despite being drenched in olive oil. I remember vividly that sunny September morning when I sat on the roof terrace of the house we stayed in, listening to the chime of sheep bells below us. I remember biting into the focaccia and the first thing that hit me was the glorious oiliness and saltiness, then the aroma of rosemary, generously studded throughout the slab. The topping would sometimes change to oregano, depending on what the baker fancied using on that particular day. Since that morning, I’d been on a mission to re-create that perfect focaccia at home.