Trusting the overnight proof

The notebook has been filling up lately, and most of it is about the overnight proof. A loaf with a good ear is very satisfying for about a minute, until you cut it and find the tunnels. It took me a couple of years to notice what I had been getting wrong with the overnight proof.

Next time

I could have avoided the whole thing by reading my own notes from last year. The slow part turned out to be the best part, which I didn’t expect. Since the start of spring I’ve been trying to do less and pay more attention. This spring I’ve mostly been trying to leave the feeding schedule alone and see what happens.

Slower than you think. Then slower again.

An honest assessment

I mentioned the overnight proof to someone I met through the hobby, who laughed and told me to give it another year. None of this is original, and it’s simply what has worked for me so far. My notes on the overnight proof go back further than I expected, and they don’t flatter me.

I gave away a jar of starter to a colleague, and now I get anxious messages at weekends. A small change to scoring ended up mattering more than all the rest put together. In the end a friend from work pointed out the obvious, as usual.

The first try

There’s still plenty I can’t explain, and I’ve made peace with that. I’ve kept at it mostly out of curiosity, and partly out of stubbornness. The advice in a battered second-hand manual made perfect sense until I actually tried it.

I spent most of a wet March fussing over the overnight proof, and I’m not sure I have much to show for it. What surprised me most was how small the change was. I wrote down what I’d done at the time, and that’s the only reason I can repeat it.

You don’t need anything new. You need another go.

More on this once I’ve had another go.