A few notes on “Short and Sweet” Olive Oil and Potato Flatbread
….. for when I bake it next time. Here’s my original post.
1. Don’t squeeze the water out of the grated potato. You’re not making rösti; you’re trying to make flatbread, which apparently needs a sloppy, gloopy dough. Mine was nowhere near sloppy enough. I could fold it, and flip it, and turn it without using my red plastic dough scraper-upper.
2. Keep stretching the dough until it completely fills every corner of the baking sheet. If it springs back into a pillow shape when you turn your back on it, give the little blighter a 10-minute time-out, and then stretch, stretch, stretch again. I’m told that a proper telling-off and a 10-minute time-out works wonders. When it comes to bread, I’m a ‘tough-love’ advocate.
3. Everyone used to think that the world was flat, but it also turned out to be round. Maybe everyone’s just looking at their flatbreads from the wrong angle.
4. Thanks to my bread oracle, Zeb Bakes, for her helpful suggestions on how to avoid bulbous flatbread in the future.
And finally, here’s a poem I wrote to my voluptuously plump flatbread yesterday for NovPAD Challenge. The phrase prompt was “Sort of”.
Sort of Flatbread
It’s a special sort of kneading, I’m told.
A blanket fold, done in thirds, I’ve heard.
Your worktop and your hands well oiled,
stretching dough out so it’ll spring and recoil,
and then oil the sides so it won’t stick,
nifty I thought, I shall remember that trick.
Popped the dough in the oven,
Olive Oil Flatbread, the recipe read.
But the dough kept rising and rising.
A billowy, pillowy flatbread I’d made.
But is it flatbread?
Well sort of, I said.