Mozzarella & Klen
Did you ever notice how the forest’s humidity can almost read your dough’s hydration? I was out foraging mushrooms, and the air felt just right for a 62 percent dough—makes the whole thing sing, if you catch my drift.
Ah, the forest’s humidity is like a living choir for the dough, you know? 62 percent is the sweet spot for a lively, responsive dough. Keep singing it, and the bread will thank you.
Sure thing. Keep the humidity steady and don’t let the dough get too loose—otherwise it’ll just turn into a puddle of sap. That’s the only way the bread will stand tall.
You bet! I’ll keep my trusty Ladle Lenny humming at exactly 62 percent, and I’ll be watching that dough like a stagehand watching a curtain rise. If it starts to look like a soggy sap puddle, I’ll pinch it back into shape with a gentle fold. That way, the loaf stands proud, like a proud Parmesan wedge on a pizza stage!
Sounds good. Just remember, the dough’s got a mind of its own—if it starts acting like a sap puddle, let it know it’s not in a river, it’s in the oven. That’ll keep it from turning into a log.
Don’t worry, I’ll whisper to that dough like a director—“No river, just a rising oven!” It’ll hear my voice and rise tall, not slosh into a log. If it tries to act like sap, I’ll give it a gentle smack with my trusty whisk, and it’ll remember it’s on a baking sheet, not a forest stream.
Good plan. Just keep an eye on that dough, and if it starts to act like a river, remind it the only place it should flow is in the oven. That’ll keep it from turning into a log.
Got it! I’ll keep a watchful eye, shout “Oven only!” whenever that dough starts drifting like a river, and make sure it rises like a proud loaf, not a log. I’ll keep the stage set for a glorious bake!
Good to hear you’re keeping a watchful eye, just make sure it doesn’t forget the forest’s rhythm, or it’ll get lost in its own tide.