The last few times I tried to make flatbreads, they baked up anything but flat. Perhaps it was the way I shaped them. Or maybe it was the amount of yeast I used. Or the length of time I let the dough rise before baking it. But as soon as I put them in the oven, they inflated like little basketballs, not the most convenient shape for wrapping sandwich ingredients or for dipping in hummus.
Another issue — they tended to be a little crustier than I would have liked. When I bake a baguette or a boule, I like a crisp exterior. But with flatbreads, I want a softer, more yielding result, which I wasn’t getting by placing my bread on a preheated pizza stone or an oiled baking sheet and putting them in the oven.
Humans baked flatbreads on hot rocks, in embers and in primitive wood-fired ovens 5,000 years ago, but it wasn’t authenticity I was after. I just wanted bread that was flat and soft. I took one look at my panini press and a lightbulb went on. If I placed my dough on top of the press’ grids and then closed the cover, there’s no way they could puff up. Enclosed within the press, where all their moisture couldn’t escape, they would become bubbly and brown but wouldn’t develop a hard crust.
For the flattest flatbreads, I used a minimal amount of yeast, 1 teaspoon as opposed to the 2¼ called for in many recipes. I didn’t want to give this small amount of yeast a lot of time to proliferate, so I let my bread dough stand for a mere hour, so it just started showing signs of activity but did not double in volume. Rather than shaping them into tight rounds as I do when making pita bread, I simply used a bench scraper (a sharp chef’s knife also works) to cut the dough into six equal pieces. This casual shaping prevented me from introducing large air bubbles into the center of the dough. After a brief rest, the dough was easy to pull into rustic oblong shapes, two of which fit easily into the panini press at once.