The Seattle Focaccia Power Rankings

The reigning champion of caesar salad, pizza-and-pasta combos, and summertime patio parties also rightfully wins the focaccia trophy. At Cornelly, quarters of rounded fluff arrive with craggy charred bits detailing the anatomy of each wedge. Beneath lies a steamy yeasted cloud that’s practically begging to be swiped through the compound butter of the moment, be it lavender or fennel pollen. For crying out loud, don’t make it beg.

If a focaccia emoji existed, it’d look exactly like Sea Wolf’s. Their magnificent, sturdy slabs have everything you want—deep cratered dimples, mix-ins like roasty olives and lemon peel, and a spongy texture perfect for swirling through olive oil or making a little lunchtime sandwich. For grab-and-go bakery focaccia, you can’t do much better. That is, provided you’re willing to part with $48 for a full-sized sheet. Worth it.

Even if your idea of great focaccia means cavernous air pockets and tug-of-war gluten stretch, Ben’s Bread’s proves that lighter, cakey versions can shine, too. The top and bottom have a crispy crackle, so you still get a sizable crunch even though the middle is essentially bread-flavored cotton candy. Ground black pepper and seeped-in olive oil make this loaf endlessly snackable on its own, though we also endorse submerging in soup.

The focaccia from this Bothell bakery reeks from the glaze of black truffle honey. But the truffleness is perfectly subtle, and the rest of the rectangle is outstanding, too. Plenty of bounce is backed by a sweet-sticky caramelized shell, and the funk pairs nicely with the fresh thyme and tangy globs of chevre. Save the EVOO flight—dips need not apply here.

This pizzeria’s focaccia is so good that we wouldn’t care if we didn’t order pizza at all. Toasty, yeasty, and springy, this bread’s impressive in its many applications, whether topped with san marzano passata and whipped ricotta, sprinkled with sesame seeds and slathered in tomato nori butter, or straddling pulverized pistachio and cold cuts. Pizza, babe, it’s nothing personal.

You can certainly order this Wallingford bar’s focaccia as an open-faced sandwich, reaping the benefits of extended contact with braised verde pork, or smoked brisket and BBQ sauce. But a little-known hack is that you can order the stuff just by itself. They serve the pillowy-soft triangles grilled, and the bold char marks add a resounding, fettunta-like crunch that plays well with olive oil and salt.

You can count on any sandwich between planks of herby focaccia here to be a hit. But we also recommend nabbing a side of focaccia spears to go with it. The draw here is the medley of herbs baked into the crust, including chives and scallion greens. That means you get this grassy, mild onion flavor without pesky burnt bits of actual onion. And seeing as Layers has bread-griddling down to a science, you can count on pristine butter-seared marbling.

We never met a more aperitivo hour-worthy mound of focaccia than the one at Willmott’s Ghost’s. It’s golden, super dense with pebble-sized crumb, and served drowning in olive oil that pools inside each dimple—not to mention earthy warmth imparted via rosemary. The whole specimen is ideal for swiping up creamy calabrian chili sauce from demolished plates of arancini, or using as sustenance alongside a spritz.

Deru’s focaccia is a classic for a reason. The texture is middle-of-the-road pleasant with a nice hand of salt and rosemary on top. And the loaf’s versatility makes it great for dunking into the soup du jour, sponging up zingy salad dressing, or as a vehicle for cured meats. As an added bonus, it freezes particularly well.

The complimentary focaccia that comes with every meal at this wacky Italian spot always spoils our appetite well before mains arrive—but there are worse problems to have. It’s the epitome of quality table bread, with a balance of squish and airiness that slurps balsamic-spiked olive oil like a thirsty plant getting watered. We’d recommend saving a hunk to sop up pasta sauce leftovers, but that’s easier said than done.

Speaking of free, the bottomless basket of chewy, thyme-flecked focaccia is our favorite perk of this otherwise mediocre touristy seafood restaurant. We’d much rather pound fountain sodas and fill up on this fantastic table bread than go nuts with anything marked “MP.” Is that fraud?

The focaccia at Darkalino’s flies out of the kitchen with a solid toasting job, a sprinkle of flaky salt, and a dependable denseness. But what really amplifies this block of bread is the accompanying Disco Sauce, a groovy, sweet and spicy concoction that would make even sad Wonder slices taste great. Fail to add on the sauce, and you’ve failed to see the point.