I’ll never forget the morning I opened my oven at 5 a.m. to find a collapsed, over-fermented disaster staring back at me. The dough had been bulking for what I thought was eight hours. It had actually been sitting there for nearly twelve, spreading across my proofing bowl like a pancake, its structure completely destroyed. … Read more
It was 6:47 on a Sunday morning and I was standing in my kitchen in mismatched socks, staring at a dough that had clearly done absolutely nothing overnight. Flat. Dense. Sad. The banneton had left its pretty spiral pattern on top, sure, but underneath it was basically a frisbee. My husband walked in, looked at … Read more
It was 6 a.m. on a Tuesday, I had just pulled what I thought was my best loaf ever out of the fridge, and I dropped it on the floor. Flour side down. On the dog’s water bowl. I stood there in my pajamas, staring at a sad, wet, unscored mound of dough slowly absorbing … Read more
