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I’ve baked this loaf, or some variant of it, so many times I’ve lost count. This bread was born when I first got my hands dirty with flour & water. Its parent, if you could call it that, was Chad Robertson’s Tartine loaf with his liquid levain and a mix of whole & white wheat that is brought to life, not with intensive kneading, but rather a series of folds during bulk fermentation. My best sourdough recipe has grown since then. It has developed a personality of its own as I’ve expanded my baking repertoire and investigated the many facets of baking naturally leavened sourdough. It’s taken on and lost traits from many great bakers out there, borrowing from their inspiration and giving me a direction to raise this bread into something of my own. This bread is one that doesn’t entirely taste like anything else I’ve had, and yet, still employs many of the same processes and ingredients.
That’s one of the greatest things about bread: it can taste and look dramatically different just by changing the two hands that create it. Calling this post “my best sourdough recipe” is a lofty claim, but honestly, I do believe this is the best bread I’ve made thus far.
I sometimes revisit a discussion I had with a few readers of this site and their comments: “bread is just bread, it’s something to be eaten and is something life-giving, isn’t that enough?” I agree, but when something becomes a passion for you it’s important to set lofty goals and get excited when breakthroughs are made. Isn’t that the definition of a craft and the relentless honing required? I’ve taken this bread from its most nascent form to its current stage and can trace through the years each change to its formula or process — and I’m sure I’ll be changing things well into the future as it continues to evolve — a work-in-progress.
Maybe the actual recipe for this bread isn’t the most important part, but rather, the lessons and insights learned along the way as I continually hone my baking proficiency. I’m not claiming this recipe will yield the perfect loaf every single time, but I dare say it comes the closest for me—and that’s exciting. This bread is the bread that I want to make the most often, the one my family asks for the most often, and the one I share most often. I have a special place for whole wheat bread, and taste-wise it might make me want to call that my favorite one day, but the versatility of this bread is astonishing. I bake this so often that my freezer has an entire shelf lined with pre-sliced loaves wrapped and in bags labeled pane perfetto1.
While the actual formula is a mix of flour, water, salt, and levain, there are many nuances here to pay close attention to, here are a few key things to successfully making this bread:
- An active starter
- A long-ish autolyse
- A high hydration
- Sufficient dough strength
- Warm bulk fermentation
- A long, cold proof
Before writing this I pulled out my trusty notebook and paged through the handwritten (and flour-ridden) pages to find any scribbled “ah-ha” moments or little notes jotted down in the margin, along with a few curse words peppered throughout, and have bundled them up into this entry (sans curse words to keep it clean). A compendium of sorts containing my insights, breakthroughs and ah-ha moments. This recipe doesn’t require an exotic blend of hard-to-find flour, a complicated multi-step levain build, or the use of a mechanical mixer. It’s built around making this bread in your home kitchen.
The high hydration of this recipe can be challenging and requires practice. The
I’ve tried a lot of flour out there, indeed not everything there is but I’ve ordered enough now that the UPS guy thinks I might have a bakery in my backyard. I have baked some great bread with Hayden Flour Mills (including this wonderful white Sonora Sourdough bread), Central Milling, and Giusto’s. I’ve also had great success with King Arthur varieties (specifically their bread flour when I need a bit of extra strength in my dough). My flour selection for a bake does always seem to change depending on what I order, what I have in my pantry, and what I might be milling. Check out my Flour section on My Baking Tools page for a list of my current recommendations.
I have consistently made incredible loaves with Giusto’s flour; I only wish it was organic. Nevertheless, I find myself ordering a box of it here and there and enjoy the results every time. Of course, as I mentioned before, try whatever is local first (sadly my source for local, organic flour is no longer) and what you like. It might require a little tweaking of this formula (especially the hydration), but I know you’re up to the task. When trying new flour remember to hold back more water than you might otherwise, and then slowly add it in at the end of mixing or throughout bulk fermentation.
My Best Sourdough Recipe
|Total Dough Weight||1,800 grams|
|Yield||2 x 900g loaves|
|843g||Malted Bread Flour, 11.5% Protein (Giusto’s Artisan Bread Flour)||90.00%|
|94g||Whole Wheat, 12.5-13.5% protein (Giusto’s Organic Stoneground Whole Wheat)||10.00%|
|30g||Ripe sourdough starter (100% hydration)||3.20%|
|30g||Ripe liquid starter (100% hydration)||50%|
|30g||Whole Wheat, 12.5-13.5% protein (Giusto’s Organic Stoneground Whole Wheat)||50%|
|30g||Malted Bread Flour, 11.5% Protein (Giusto’s Artisan Bread Flour)||50%|
As I mentioned above, this recipe has extremely high hydration. If this is your first time working with this recipe, reduce the total water or hold water back during mixing to ensure your dough can handle it. The amount of water your dough will handle will vary based on your particular flour and environment — play it safe the first few bakes and work the water up gradually once you get a feel for the dough.
The target final dough temperature (FDT) is 78°F (25°C). This dough loves a nice warm ambient environment. Try to keep the dough at the listed temperatures if possible, use your oven with a light on inside, your microwave with a bowl of steaming water, or a proofer. I use my instant-read thermometer to check the dough temperature periodically throughout bulk.
For more information on how to calculated DDT, monitor temperature, and maintain temperature have a look at my post on The Importance of Dough Temperature in Baking.
|813g||Malted Bread Flour, 11.5% Protein (Giusto’s Artisan Bread Flour)|
|64g||Whole Wheat, 12.5-13.5% protein (Giusto’s Organic Stoneground Whole Wheat)|
|19g||Fine sea salt|
|150g||Ripe liquid levain (see above)|
1. Levain – 9:00 a.m.
Build the liquid levain in the morning and store somewhere warm around 77-80°F (25-26°C) ambient for 5-6 hours. Alternatively, you can build your levain in the evening the night before and leave out at cooler, room temperatures (around 72°F/22°C) and it should be ready in 10-12 hours.
If you haven’t yet read through my last post on my sourdough starter maintenance routine, check it out for some helpful hints on when to use your levain.
2. Autolyse – 12:30 p.m.
Mix flour and water (reserve 50g water for the mix, later) very well in a bowl and cover. Ensure all dry flour is hydrated. Store near levain (we want the temperature of the dough to remain warm).
3. Mix, Step 1 – 2:00 p.m.
Note that I split the mixing phase into two steps.
For the first step scoop out the required amount of levain on top of your autolysed dough and using about 30g of the reserved water hand-mix the levain into the dough, so it’s incorporated very well. Wait 30 minutes before adding the salt in Step 2.
4. Mix, Step 2 – 2:30 p.m.
30 minutes later spread the salt on top of the dough and use the remaining water to help dissolve. If your dough is already extremely wet, and you’re getting worried, you don’t have to use all the remaining water. Just spread it out and mix well with your hand, the dough is wet enough already to work the salt thoroughly.
This dough does not require intensive mechanical mixing, we want to under-develop at mix time and build strength during bulk through fermentation and several sets of stretch and folds. After the salt is incorporated, perform folds for about 2-3 minutes in the bowl. Grab under one side, pull up and over to the other side, then rotate the bowl a bit and repeat. I do this probably 30 times or so (it goes fast and easy).
In the end, the dough should still be shaggy, but it will be a little more smooth and will slightly start to hold itself together more in the bowl.
If you’re a fan of the slap & fold mixing technique I’ve described in the past, you can do this but be aware that at this hydration it is difficult. If you’re up to the challenge (I do it occasionally) dump the dough out and slap/fold for 3-6 until the dough starts to hold its shape on the counter. You won’t get a super smooth dough, even with slap/fold.
I find that the correct strength level of the dough at this point is important. You want the dough to be a little smoother after mixing, but not fully developed. I know those are general terms, but try to remain observant of how the dough looks when you finish mixing and how it looks when you finish with bulk fermentation. If you find that by the end of bulk you can’t get the dough smooth & strong enough, next time mix a little bit longer to develop the dough a bit more before you start the bulk. Alternatively, you could add another set of stretch/fold’s in bulk2.
Transfer dough to a tub or thick-walled bowl for bulk fermentation.
5. Bulk Fermentation – 2:45 p.m.
At 78°F (25°C) ambient temperature, bulk fermentation should go for about 4 hours. Perform six sets of stretch and folds during the bulk. The first three are at 15-minute intervals, and the last three are at 30-minute intervals. After these folds (2 hours and 15 minutes have gone by) let the dough rest for the remainder of your bulk fermentation (1 hour and 45 minutes).
I stretch and fold more vigorously at the beginning of bulk than usual since the dough is extraordinarily slack and extensible (due to the high hydration of this recipe). Pick up one side of the dough with both hands and pull it up, just before tearing, and fold it over to the other side. Rotate your container and repeat 4 or 5 times. That is one set.
Below you can see my dough halfway through bulk, after about 2 hours. No significant rise as of yet, but the edges are beginning to dome downward, and the texture of the dough is smoothing out slightly. We still have several more folds to do and more strength to build.
It is essential that the dough is kept near 78°F (25°C) as much as possible (minor fluctuations up and down are ok). If temperatures dip down too far you might have to extend the duration of bulk fermentation to compensate, and vice versa. Use your judgment, the signs described below, and be flexible.
At the end of bulk, your dough should look very gassy, some bubbles here and there, and the edges where the dough meets the bowl should be slightly domed. You can see all these signs in the image below. When you gently shake the bowl, the entire mass jiggles from side to side—very alive. You’ll also notice that compared with the photo at the beginning of bulk, the dough is smoother and holds its edges, folds, and creases more readily (most of the bumps and ridges you see are due to trapped gasses from fermentation).
6. Divide & Preshape – 6:45 p.m.
Divide the dough into two halves and gently shape each into a round. Then, let the rounds rest for 30 minutes uncovered. Act quickly when dealing with this dough and rely heavily on your bench knife. I try to use my hands as little as possible when dealing with the dough at this point.
7. Shape – 7:15 p.m.
Lightly flour the top of your dough rounds and flour the work surface. With this recipe use a little more flour on the surface than normal, the dough will be extremely sticky and wet. Flip each round and shape into a batard (see notes below) or boule, whatever your preference.
I prefer to shape these as batards, and my shaping method is as follows:
- Flip pre-shaped round
- Fold the bottom up to about halfway
- Fold the left side over to about 3/4 to the right
- Fold the right side over to cover left
- Stretch top up & away from the center and fold down to about half (you’ll now have a “letter”)
- Grab a little of the dough at the sides near the top and stretch it over the center, so the dough crosses. Imagine lacing up a shoe where you first grab your laces and cross them over
- Repeat three times from top to bottom (the result will look like a laced up shoe)
- Take the bottom and gently roll the dough up to the top and try to seal it slightly when done rolling
Alternatively, if the dough feels pretty strong, you could shape it by “cinching” up the dough. For more instruction on how to shape this dough as an oblong loaf, see my post on how to shape a batard (with video!).
After shaping, let rest on the bench for a few minutes and then place it into a banneton that I lightly dusted with white rice flour. You’ll see above my bannetons give the dough plenty of room to relax and expand in the fridge overnight. While this dough doesn’t rise quite as much as when I use Central Milling’s T70 flour, you still want the loaf to have plenty of room. If your proofing container is on the small side, and you find your dough almost spilling over the edges, it might be time for a larger basket.
8. Rest & Proof – 7:25 p.m.
Cover your banneton with plastic and let the dough rest on the counter for 20 minutes. Then, retard in the refrigerator at 38°F (3°C) for 15-16 hours.
9. Bake – Next Morning: Preheat oven at 9:00 a.m., Bake at 10:30 a.m.
Preheat your oven to 450°F (230°C). Remove the dough from the fridge (there’s no need to let the dough come to room temperature) and uncover. Bake for 20 minutes with steam, then remove your steaming pans or Dutch oven/combo cooker lid. Then, bake for an additional 30 minutes until done to your liking. I like to bake rather dark, so I sometimes extend this second half of baking until I get the crust I’m looking for.
I scored this dough with a single, long slash to get that dramatic opening when baked. I keep the blade at a reasonably shallow angle so the taut skin created during shaping will “peel” back as the loaf rises. I steamed my oven in my usual way, described here in my post on how to steam your home oven for baking.
Once your loaf is done, remove and let cool on a wire rack for 1-2 hours. See my post on the best way to store the bread after it’s baked for a few tips on keeping it on the counter and freezing if you think you won’t get through both loaves in a week.
It’s hard to put into words just how much I enjoy this bread. I bake this recipe almost every week (sometimes multiple times if baking for friends & family) and yet every time I pull it from the oven I just smile. The color of the crust, the open and light interior, only the smallest perception of sour notes and the way it crunches when toasted. I could go on and on. The photos to follow are the results of scattered recent bakes that all followed this process exactly and have a similar-but-not-exact outcome. You’ll notice some are a bit darker, some have more or less flour on them, some expand differently in the oven, and some are taller & some are shorter—that’s the nature of baking, every single bake is different no matter how consistent you try to be. It’s the same with my Dad and his Italian restaurant, and the reason I’ll sometimes get a call in the middle of the afternoon: “hey the pizza dough is incredible today, you should head over and grab some.”
As a kid, I was known to take slices of bread, cut out the center and eat the crust. It used to anger my family because they’d reach into the bread basket only to find slices of only the soft parts. That’s how much I love the crust! Can you blame me, though?
I do enjoy bread that has a chunky, chewy crust but for me, this bread with its delicate and cracker-like crust takes the top spot. Even though I bake these rather dark, the crust remains thin and brittle, crackling under the slightest pressure. I love using the “heel” (the very end) of this bread to eat soup or combined with hefty slices of cheese. It’s delicious.
I think there’s a balance to be had with bread like this. It’s possible to let the crumb open up too much, but for me, this is just right. Scattered open areas with that translucent webbing spanning from wall-to-wall, a dynamic movement to these areas that almost show you how shaping was carried out.
This bread has an almost imperceptible hint of sour, and because of this, the wheat flavors from the flour come forward. It has an incredibly tender, soft crumb that almost dissolves in your mouth. It’s one of those rare foods whereupon taking that first bite your mouth begins to water. I think in the end bread is just bread, the staff of life throughout history, but it’s also the sum of what you put into it. It’s how it makes you feel when you give some to a friend and they grin ear-to-ear as they take a big bite. It’s the knowledge that you created this thing throughout a few days that once was a lump on your counter and is now a shiny, incredible smelling piece of food meant to be shared. To me, this is real bread and my best sourdough recipe (and with this bread you’ll even find me devouring more than just the crust!).
If you use this recipe, tag @maurizio on Instagram and use the hashtag #theperfectloaf so I can take a look!
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Thanks Margie for the name suggestion!↩
And in the worst possible case if your dough at the end of bulk is soupy, extremely shaggy, and just never came together this means you most likely used more water than you flour can handle. Next time reduce hydration by 20g or so and see how that affects things.↩