Dining & Drinks — Guide

The Best Bakeries for Ciabatta and Focaccia

Ciabatta and focaccia look rustic but demand real technique. Here is where Singapore's bakeries handle the notoriously wet dough properly, every time.

Focaccia bread with olives and lime slices

Ciabatta and focaccia are, in a sense, two answers to the same question — what happens when you take a wet, loose dough and let steam, rather than kneading and shaping, do most of the work of building structure. Both breads rely on hydration levels well beyond what most home bakers are comfortable handling, doughs so slack they can barely be shaped by hand, which is precisely what gives the finished loaves their signature open, irregular crumb and thin, crackling crust. Singapore’s better artisan bakeries have, over the past decade, become genuinely serious about getting this technically demanding pair right.

The two breads diverge in purpose as much as technique. Ciabatta, Italian for “slipper” in reference to its flattened, elongated shape, is built primarily as a table and sandwich bread — its open crumb structure ideal for soaking up olive oil or holding fillings without turning soggy. Focaccia leans further into its role as a dish in its own right, dimpled and generously oiled before baking, often studded with rosemary, olives, or flaked salt, closer to a savoury flatbread than a conventional loaf.

What actually separates a good version from a mediocre one

Hydration is the technical heart of both breads, and it is where most bakeries either commit fully or quietly cut corners. A proper ciabatta dough runs at roughly seventy-five to eighty percent hydration — an unusually wet ratio of water to flour that most home ovens and bakers struggle to manage without extensive practice. Bakeries that shortcut this, using a stiffer, more manageable dough, produce a denser, more uniform crumb that lacks the irregular, glossy-holed structure a proper ciabatta should have.

Focaccia’s tell is in the oil, both in quantity and quality. A properly made focaccia is generously, almost extravagantly oiled before baking, the oil pooling in the dimples pressed into the dough’s surface and crisping the base as it bakes. Bakeries using a thin, stingy application of oil, or a lower-quality one, produce a focaccia that reads as merely a flavoured bread rather than the genuinely indulgent, almost fried-tasting result the technique is meant to deliver.

Reading a loaf before you buy it

A few visual cues, checkable before purchase, reliably separate the serious bakeries from the merely competent. Ciabatta should show a visibly irregular, glossy-holed crumb when torn open, with a crust that shatters slightly rather than simply softening. Focaccia should have a distinctly oil-crisped base and visible dimples that have pooled with oil during baking rather than a flat, dry surface.

  • Ask when the bread was baked — both styles are at their best within a few hours of coming out of the oven, and neither holds up particularly well beyond a single day.
  • A ciabatta that feels notably light for its size, almost hollow, is usually a good sign of the open crumb structure the technique is meant to produce.
  • For focaccia, check the underside specifically — a properly oiled and baked base should look almost fried, deep golden rather than pale.

Where Singapore is getting it right

A neighbourhood bakery known primarily for its sourdough programme has, almost as a side project, developed one of the more technically accomplished ciabatta loaves available locally, built on a long, cold fermentation that develops both flavour and the wet, workable structure the bread depends on. Its focaccia, baked in large sheet trays and cut to order, has become a lunchtime fixture for the surrounding office crowd, generously topped with seasonal vegetables and a rotating cast of herbs.

“People think focaccia is easy because it looks rustic. It’s actually one of the harder things we make — the dough fights you the whole way,” one baker told us, working a batch that seemed determined to spread across the entire bench.

A smaller, more Italian-focused bakery elsewhere on the island has taken a purist’s approach, sticking closely to traditional regional recipes and refusing to add the more elaborate toppings that have become common locally, on the theory that a properly made focaccia needs little beyond good olive oil and flaked salt to shine.

Buying and storing it properly at home

Both breads are best bought and eaten within hours of baking, which means it is worth asking a bakery directly what time their ovens run rather than simply showing up whenever convenient. Ciabatta, once home, keeps its crust best left uncovered or loosely wrapped in paper rather than sealed in plastic, which traps moisture and softens the crust that makes the bread worth eating in the first place. Focaccia is more forgiving, and in fact improves slightly after an hour or two resting under a light cloth, allowing the olive oil to settle further into the crumb.

Neither bread freezes especially well once fully baked, though a partially baked ciabatta, if a bakery offers one, can be finished at home in a hot oven with reasonable success — a useful option for anyone wanting fresh bread on a schedule that does not align neatly with a bakery’s own baking hours.

The wider bread landscape worth exploring

Readers building a broader appreciation of artisan bread should also read our guide to bakeries for naturally leavened bread, which covers the sourdough tradition these same bakeries often draw technique from, and our companion pieces on sourdough and bread baking and bread fermentation and levain, both useful grounding for understanding why hydration and fermentation time matter as much as they do to a finished loaf. Diners interested in the wider Italian dining scene these bakeries often complement should consult our guide to the best Italian trattorias. The rest of our food coverage sits within Dining & Drinks.

Two breads, one demanding technique

What makes ciabatta and focaccia worth seeking out from a genuinely committed bakery, rather than settling for a supermarket approximation, is precisely the technical difficulty both breads disguise behind their rustic, unfussy appearance. A dough that wet, handled that carelessly by an inexperienced baker, simply falls apart. Handled properly, by a kitchen willing to put in the practice, it becomes something worth queuing for — proof that the simplest-looking breads are often, in reality, among the hardest to get right.

Renée Tan
Dining Editor

Renée has covered Singapore's restaurants for over a decade, with a soft spot for the kitchens most people walk past.


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