Oneglia's savoury breakfasts

The first time you see it done, you think it's a joke. You're at the bar, and the person next to you breaks off a strip of focaccia, sinks it into the cappuccino, waits just long enough for it to soak without falling apart, and pops it in their mouth. Savoury inside the sweet. Oil and milk foam. If you come from elsewhere, your head spins a little.

And yet this is how, around here, the day begins. The Ligurian breakfast is savoury. No croissant and cappuccino, or rather: the cappuccino yes, but in place of the sweet pastry goes the focaccia, the kind a finger thick, shiny with oil, its little dimples full of brine. You "puccia" it, as we say here, meaning you dip it. Some people turn up their nose, but in Genoa it's such a serious matter that a few years ago Gambero Rosso called it the most characteristic regional breakfast in Italy. And we from the Ponente are no less devoted.

Ligurian focaccia fresh from the oven, a finger thick, golden, its dimples glistening with oil.

The secret, if you really want to know, is in the timing. The focaccia must not be left to soak, or it dissolves into the cappuccino and turns to mush. A quick dunk, just long enough to catch the warmth and a little milk, and up. It's a gesture you learn by watching the grown-ups, as a child, and that then stays with you forever. Around here everyone does it, from the pensioner reading the Gazzetta to the young lad before work, and nobody finds anything odd about it: it's simply how it's done.

For us, in the family, it's also a matter of geography. Our savoury breakfast has a precise address: Piazza San Giovanni, the church square, in the heart of Oneglia. That's where we've been going down for years, and that's where my daughter Emma has her absolute favourite, the roastery right on the square, where they roast the coffee on the spot and the smell reaches you from halfway down the street.

That square, for us, is a little world. A few steps away is the Blengini bakery, where for Emma's first years we went down every Saturday to buy bread "for grandma", and where she would sit on the steps eating her bag of still-warm focaccia. Right there too is the pasta maker, where we bought the ravioli, again for grandma. Bread, pasta, coffee and focaccia, all within thirty square metres of square. For a little girl, and honestly for her father too, walking down to Piazza San Giovanni in the morning was already half the happiness of the day.

Because that, in the end, is the point. The savoury breakfast isn't just a matter of taste. It's a ritual, and rituals are to be done slowly. The true Ligurian doesn't gulp the focaccia down standing at the counter: he sits, orders the cappuccino, opens the newspaper and takes his time. It isn't breakfast, it's a small declaration of how you want the day to go.

If you're at Stella sul Mare and want to give it a try, you're spoilt for choice, and let me tell you four that are worth it.

The first is the roastery in Piazza San Giovanni, which I've already mentioned. You go for the coffee roasted right there and the warm focaccia, but above all because you find yourself in the liveliest spot in Oneglia, with the church in front and the town waking up around you.

Caffetteria Bistrot S. Giovanni, on the square in Oneglia: coffee roasted on the spot and tables in front of the church

Then there's Caffè Pepito, on Via Silvio Bonfante, towards the sea. Plenty of people from Oneglia will tell you they make the best focaccia in town there, and they're not entirely wrong. It's very handy if you've got a morning on the beach planned, because you're a couple of steps from the Galeazza: focaccia, cappuccino, and then down to the water.

Caffè Pepito, on Via Silvio Bonfante in Oneglia: for many the best focaccia in town

On the port, at the far end of Calata Cuneo, is Caffè del Porto. In the evening it's one of the aperitivo spots, but in the morning it's another story: their focaccia, the torta verde and the pizza al sugo are made in house and of a high standard. Having your cappuccino there, under the porticoes, with the port in front and the fishing boats moored, is one of those things that make you think you chose well in coming here. And while you're at it, along the quay you'll also find other stalls and little bars turning out focaccia in the morning: a slice in hand and a stroll along the pier is something nobody should pass up.

The entrance of Caffè del Porto, on the port of Oneglia, with its lit-up sign and outdoor tables.

And if you come across the eastern-Riviera version, don't let it slip past: focaccia col formaggio from Recco is a different creature altogether, two paper-thin, crisp layers with molten stracchino cheese oozing in between. Richer, more indulgent, perfect for anyone who wants to go all out first thing in the morning.

Focaccia col formaggio from Recco, two thin, crisp layers with molten stracchino oozing inside.

And here's the extreme frontier, the one for the boldest: some people around here start the day with a strip of focaccia and a glass of Pigato. Yes, white wine first thing in the morning. Don't turn up your nose: focaccia and Pigato chase each other beautifully, savoury against savoury. I'll confess I save this little treat for the aperitivo — maybe right here, at the Caffè del Porto, when the sun goes down — but if you're on holiday and the mood takes you, know that tradition has your back.

And if you fancy a walk, cross the torrent and head all the way to Porto Maurizio, on Via XX Settembre, to the Pasticceria da Maurizio e Charlie. It was named best café in Imperia by Gambero Rosso, and you can tell: the focaccia in the morning is excellent, but the real temptation is the window of sweet pastries, because there the savoury-breakfast rule can be broken too, just this once.

The entrance of Pasticceria da Maurizio e Charlie, on Via XX Settembre in Porto Maurizio, with its sign.

One thing, as an honest man from Oneglia, I have to tell you. You eat focaccia well all year round, but the perfect moment is early in the morning, when it's just out of the oven. The more hours pass, the more it loses that damp softness that makes it irresistible in the cappuccino. So don't be late: go down when the bar has just opened, and take it warm.

And one last tip, the kind that counts. Don't rush. The savoury breakfast is a lovely habit precisely because it forces you to stop. Sit down, order, and when they bring you the focaccia hold it a moment in your hand before you dip it. Feel the oil, the salt, the warmth. Then sink it into the cappuccino, count to two, and up. Welcome to Liguria. From here, the day can only get better.