Learning vs. Connecting
Where the Question Began
I have been journaling a lot lately about a challenge I didn’t quite expect to feel as deeply as I have. My new mixer. Even the decision to purchase it carried weight. I had written about my concerns before it ever arrived. Would I lose the integrity of my work? Would something shift in a way I couldn’t get back? Was I, in some way, cheating…not just myself, but the people I share my loaves with?
When It Fell Apart
This past week, I finally stepped into it. I had time in the kitchen, space to experiment, and what I thought was a clear understanding of what to do. I had done the research. I had watched the videos. I had convinced myself I was ready.
And then…everything fell flat.
No rise.
No oven spring.
No ear.
Just loaves that spread and baked into something unrecognizable as my own. Pancake flat.
Back to the Beginning
So I did what I have learned to do when something isn’t right. I went back. Not just to the recipe, but to the beginning. As if I were learning again for the first time, only this time with a mixer instead of my hands.
I spent an entire sleepless night searching. YouTube, Instagram, TikTok, the Estella website. I watched other bakers mix for twenty, sometimes thirty minutes. No explanation. No context. No understanding of their starter, their dough, their environment. Just timers and motion.
And I realized something in the quiet of that night…
I wasn’t finding answers.
The Turning Point
The next morning, I did something simple. I trusted myself.
I made one batch by hand. The way I always have. The way I know.
And I made another with the mixer.
Same starter.
Same recipe.
Same kitchen.
And I watched.
Not the clock.
Not the bowl.
The dough.
Every movement. Every change. Every nuance.
What I Discovered
All of those bakers I had studied? They were getting their results because of their process.
Not mine.
And somewhere along the way, I had drifted into that familiar place…
the quiet trap of comparison.
There is a fine line between learning from others and losing yourself in what they do. Between gathering knowledge and abandoning instinct.
I didn’t need their method.
I needed to understand my own.
My Process (With the Mixer)
This is what works for me. Not as a rule. Not as a formula. But as a reflection of how I stay connected to my dough, even with a machine.
Base Recipe (4 Loaves | 900g each)
2000 g flour
1400 g water
300 g starter
40 g salt
Scaling (3x Batch | 12 Loaves)
6000 g flour
4200 g water
900 g starter
120 g salt
Step-by-Step
1. Initial Mix
Combine all ingredients in the mixer.
Mix on low speed for 2–3 minutes.
The goal is not development.
Just incorporation.
The dough will look rough. That’s right.
2. Rest (20–30 minutes)
Let the dough sit.
This is where hydration begins.
This is where gluten starts forming without force.
3. Second Mix
Return to the mixer.
Mix on low for another 2–4 minutes.
Stop before it looks “done.”
This matters more than anything.
4. Transfer & Rest (20–30 minutes)
Move dough to bulk container.
Let it relax before touching it again.
5. Coil Folds (2–3 total)
Perform gentle coil folds every 30 minutes.
Not four.
Not by habit.
Only until the dough tells you it’s ready.
6. Bulk Fermentation
Let the dough rise undisturbed.
Watch for:
slight rise
bubbles forming
a soft, pillowy feel
7. Pre-shape
Turn out gently.
Shape lightly.
8. Bench Rest (20–30 minutes)
Let the dough relax again.
9. Final Shape → Banneton
Shape with intention.
Build tension without force.
10. Short Rest (20–30 minutes)
Not an hour.
This was a key adjustment.
11. Final Stitch → Cold Proof
Gentle stitch.
Into the fridge.
What I Learned
I wasn’t trying to learn the mixer.
I was trying to stay connected to my dough.
And in doing that, I realized something I don’t want to forget:
The mixer is not the process.
It’s just a tool.
The process is still:
observation
patience
restraint
trust
What Stayed With Me
This experience didn’t take something away from me.
It gave something back.
A deeper understanding of how I work.
A reminder to trust what I feel, even when something new enters the picture.
And the quiet confidence that growth doesn’t require disconnection.
The mixer didn’t change my bread.
Because I didn’t let it change me.
I wasn’t trying to learn the mixer.
I was trying to stay connected to my dough.
And in the end, that made all the difference.
Warmly~
Kathy
Art of The Crumb