The first thing we share
There is something wonderfully uncomplicated about putting a warm loaf in the middle of a table. Nobody needs instructions. Someone tears a piece, someone passes the oil, and a meal that has not quite started suddenly feels like an occasion.
A little time, a little patience
In our imagined kitchen, focaccia is a daily ritual. The dough rests, the surface gets its familiar dimples, and rosemary scents the room as the first tray goes into the oven. We want a crisp edge, a soft centre and enough olive oil to make a napkin necessary.
Leave room for the crumbs
At home, you do not need a perfectly styled table to make bread feel special. Warm it gently, put out a small bowl of olive oil and give everyone a plate. A pinch of flaky salt is welcome. Matching crockery is entirely optional.
The Solstice way
Our menu starts with focaccia because it says what we hope the rest of the evening will say: settle in, help yourself, there is enough to share. The best bit is often the piece you tear off for someone else.