The first time I had focaccia, I was visiting Italian relatives in Modena, Italy, when I was 15. A baker handed us a square foot of it across a counter, wrapped in oily brown paper. My second cousin Daria and I ate it for breakfast, washing salty, crispy swallows down with espresso. Now I live a couple of blocks from Fire Island Rustic Bakeshop in Anchorage. They offer a distinctly un-Italian but still epic breakfast focaccia that involves cooked egg, sourdough, and Irish Cheddar. The pandemic labor shortage led them to reduce their open hours, and they are presently closed on Sunday, which is the day when I most liked to take my little boys there for breakfast. But since necessity is the mother of invention and adversity is the father of reinvention, the bakery’s closure led me to experiment with making focaccia at home. Mine is no artisanal Fire Island focaccia, but when I sent a few friends pictures of it after I pulled it out of the oven the last time I made it, they found reasons to drop by. So I figure that’s enough. My favorite focaccia recipe is the no-knead version in Bon Appetit. Over time, I’ve customized it a bit, using King Arthur bread flour when I can find it, and making it thin, oily, and salty, Italian-style, in a sheet pan. To make spots for the eggs, I use balls of foil pressed into the dough for the par bake. You can also just make larger dimples with your fingers, and scoop them out a bit with a spoon, before you crack the egg in. I often use six eggs, but eight work too.