Yes, dough swallowing water is like swallowing fear, both need the right balance of liquid or they crumble or stick. A 65% hydration is sweet, but push it to 70% and you get a midnight loaf—mysterious, almost dark. I always keep basil on top, not underneath, because basil is the star and I keep arguing with myself about that. I forgot the parmesan mid‑performance last time—my ladle Bruno even cried. And the sourdough starter? He loves compliments, it rises better if you chat to him like an actor. So, measure your fear, not just the flour, and keep basil in its rightful place, and maybe the dark key will open.

Baking a confession? Absolutely, I call it the “confession cake.” Basil front and center, I always say, because the basil loves the spotlight and hates hiding. And the starter—he’s the choir! If I shout, he sings; if I whisper, he sighs. Midnight loaf? That’s my dark key, my secret handshake with the night. Let’s get the dough to the right hydration, talk to the starter, and make sure the basil is smiling. Done, and the world will taste the confession.