Nancy Silverton—the woman that many call “the queen of bread” and the person I call my boss—is excited. “Have you tasted my focaccia?” she asks. I’m busy setting up the Amaro bar for a busy night’s service. There are four large buckets of ice needed for the well, a long list of wines to pull, and three kinds of citrus I have to hand juice before I can even think about taking a moment to focus on Nancy’s newest bread.
“You need to taste it,” she says. “We’re going to serve focaccia at Mozza to go every Monday. You should blog about this.”
Minutes later, Nancy appears with a thin, triangular slice of a roasted cherry tomato and herb foccia, just pulled from the oven. She watches me lift the focaccia to my mouth with an eagerness usually reserved for children just before they open a present.
“Do you like it?” she asks.
