What I'm actually using right now

From the Tools chapter · Wireless “Meat” Probes

There is a whole new category of thermometers made ostensibly for slow and low barbecue and other meat applications. They are small, heatproof probes that can stay in meat on a grill or under a broiler, and many are safe up to 1,000°.

I have been experimenting with Combustion Predictive Wireless bullet probes (~$189 with Wi-Fi base). Though not designed for bread, I’ve been using them successfully to track my dough from the refrigerator, through the bake, through the required cooling phase. The probe has several zones between the core reader at the tip and the ambient temperature at the other end that needs to stay outside the dough. It was pretty accurate, and surprisingly good at predicting exactly when my bread would reach the desired temperature of 206° using an algorithm based upon the speed at which heat is penetrating from the outer surface toward the core. Just minutes after putting my bread in the oven, the app predicted its final bake time within a minute or two.

Not everyone needs this level of detail, but for my research project, the data generated was invaluable. It was a great tool for showing me what my oven and Dutch oven were doing during the bake and how that affected the bread. One thing I found surprising: It took a full 20 minutes for the heat front to travel from the surface to the core of the bread, meaning that ovenspring may continue for longer than I originally thought. Though the majority of ovenspring does happen earlier on while the crust is pliable, it’s still a good reason to keep the covered section of the bake to the full 20 minutes.

From the Tools chapter · Wireless pH Meter

Well beyond the needs of most bakers, a pH meter seemed essential for my testing for this book and future technical research studies and the resulting white papers they will inform. A pH meter is a right pain to operate. You need to have two different buffer solutions to calibrate the device to make sure it’s working properly. You have to clean the electrode with a special fluid very carefully and store the tip immersed in a proprietary storage fluid to keep the sensor from drying out. That said, fermentation and acidification go hand in hand, and if you want a truly scientific window into what’s happening in your starter or dough, there is absolutely no more empirical way than with a pH meter. The Hanna Instruments HALO2 Wireless pH Tester for Bread & Dough (model HI9810382, ~$165) is made to purpose, and is an excellent option if you want to know what’s happening to your dough as it ferments. It connects via Bluetooth to your phone, giving constant readouts that can generate a report with readings and graphs that include both dough pH and temperature over time.

From the Tools chapter · High Accuracy Thermocouple

Like the pH meter, a four channel data logging thermocouple is probably overkill in your kitchen, but being able to measure oven, vessel, and dough temperature and see them overlaid on a graph can tell you a lot about how heat penetrates dough as it bakes, indicating exactly how long yeast survives into the bake cycle, and when ovenspring is likely to end, affecting decisions about covered vs uncovered baking and other factors. The Danoplus 4-Channel Thermocouple Data Logger (~$129), with a range of −328° to 2,498°, unlimited logging to the included SD card, alarms, and a scheduled-start function, accepts standard thermocouples of every type, from magnetic surface probes to ambient probes to internal probes for deep dough penetration.

From the Tools chapter · Self-Adhesive 12" (30cm) Sticky Measuring Tapes

The rubber band method is great, but the bands can be a little hard to get perfectly straight. If you’re doing hundreds of bakes for a test protocol, accuracy and repeatability are paramount. These Win Tape self-adhesive ruler tapes (~$7) read properly when mounted vertically and provide both imperial and metric measurements. I put one on each side of my Cambro containers to help get the bulk fermentation growth measurement between my half and full double marks just a little finer.

From the Tools chapter · Bowl Scraper

I use my hand in the container for almost all mixing, but when I started, I found a flexible plastic rounded bowl scraper helpful, not only with mixing, but also with getting the dough out of the container and onto the counter. I still sometimes use one instead of my hand to gently prize the dough away from edges to facilitate extrication, but I always use one to scrape off the sides of my Cambro after the initial mix to consolidate every last drop and make the sides easier to see through; if you wait much longer, dough smeared on the sides becomes hard as concrete and a pain to clean. Plus, dough stuck to the sides weighs more than you think and doesn’t make it into the bread, which especially important in carefully planned research. Scrapers are also multitaskers, dirt cheap, and worth having on hand. They are just a couple of dollars on Amazon, most baking kits include them, and many companies in the flour and bread space virtually give them away as branding. If you want to splurge for slightly upgraded utility and durability, pro bakers swear by the Matfer Bourgeat Bowl Scraper ($18).

From the Tools chapter · Flour Dispenser (Shaker or Wand)

I dust my dough and counter with wheat flour to make it easier to work with without sticking, and I have to constantly dust my bannetons with rice flour for the same reason (and to make the pretty, concentric decorative rings on my finished bread). I have two flour shakers for this purpose: one for wheat flour and one for rice flour. They come with different hole sizes in the top that control how fast the flour comes out; I use larger holes for wheat and finer holes for my finely milled rice flour when dusting my baskets. The Chef Craft Select Dredger flour shaker comes in varying screen sizes with plastic covers (~$12 for a pair). My rice flour shaker is metal and my baking flour shaker is plastic, which helps me avoid the costly mistake of confusing the two.

There are also purpose-made flour wands, like the OXO Good Grips Baker’s Dusting Wand (~$15 for a pair), which has a perforated bowl at the end that rotates open for filling and then closes for dusting. It is not necessary, since you can use your hands or any fine-mesh sieve, and it doesn’t hold a lot of flour so you are constantly refilling it, but it is a nice tool to have if you bake a lot because it gives far better control for a very fine dusting.

From the Tools chapter · Starter Home and Proofing Box (Optional)

Temperature is one variable you cannot fully control, but it is an essential element to track to better understand how changes will affect your fermentation. The temperatures of your dry flour, water, and starter or levain—and, of course, the ambient temperature in your kitchen—all affect the process and resulting outcome, and since I have spent so much time telling you that temperature matters more than the clock, I owe you some ideas as to how you can influence or control it.

Starter homes, proofing boxes, and other temperature-control tools have been proliferating lately, and a dedicated heated box lets you actually hold a steady temperature instead of just tracking it. You can, of course, employ techniques like adjusting water temperature and feeding ratio instead of ambient temperature, but having an environment you can accurately control can be a handy optional addition to your toolkit.

The Brød & Taylor Folding Proofer (~$255) folds flat for storage and holds a set temperature within a degree or two, which is more than enough. Brød & Taylor also sells a tiny refrigerator-shaped Sourdough Home (~$149) that is supposed to both heat and cool to achieve a perfect temperature, and their new Proofer Pro (~$999)—which, though expensive, is big enough for six bâtards or four boules, and can automatically move from warm proofing temperatures of nearly 100° down to cold retard proof temperatures in the high 30s and low 40s. This is especially useful because domestic-use refrigerators are generally kept at temperatures of 36° to 38°, slightly lower than ideal for cold proofing and likely to virtually stop fermentation rather than slow it down.

There are also much cheaper ways to control temperature. Your oven with nothing but the interior light on gets you a warm, draft-free proofing box for free, and a cooler with a jar of hot water in the corner does nearly as well, at least for a while. Any thermostat-controlled heat mat meant for starting tomatoes or other tender seedlings will work for warming a levain, costs as little as $20, and can be the cheapest fix for a cold starter or levain I know of. Set your jar on one and put it in a box, and it can add and fairly accurately hold 10 or 15 extra degrees, enough to wake a sluggish winter culture that would otherwise take all day to peak. I am not going to pretend this is elegant. It is a garden center product sitting in a leftover cardboard box, but a cold starter is a slow starter, and slow can be the enemy of a predictable bake schedule, so it earns its place in the drawer. I have also pressed other heaters into service, like the type of heating pad I pull out when my back is in its yearly spasm, or the clear plastic soil warming mat I once used for kombucha when that was my obsession du jour/semaine/mois/année.

This matters more in my kitchen than it might in yours because I keep my house so cold, but if your kitchen runs warm, you may never need one, and if you live in a tropical clime, you may instead need a way to cool your dough to keep it in a reasonable production window. When I started, a home baker had to be creative to find ways to do this. Today’s sourdough marketplace is rife with all manner of tools for this purpose.

From the Tools chapter · Starter Home and Proofing Box (Optional)

Temperature is one variable you cannot fully control, but it is an essential element to track to better understand how changes will affect your fermentation. The temperatures of your dry flour, water, and starter or levain—and, of course, the ambient temperature in your kitchen—all affect the process and resulting outcome, and since I have spent so much time telling you that temperature matters more than the clock, I owe you some ideas as to how you can influence or control it.

Starter homes, proofing boxes, and other temperature-control tools have been proliferating lately, and a dedicated heated box lets you actually hold a steady temperature instead of just tracking it. You can, of course, employ techniques like adjusting water temperature and feeding ratio instead of ambient temperature, but having an environment you can accurately control can be a handy optional addition to your toolkit.

The Brød & Taylor Folding Proofer (~$255) folds flat for storage and holds a set temperature within a degree or two, which is more than enough. Brød & Taylor also sells a tiny refrigerator-shaped Sourdough Home (~$149) that is supposed to both heat and cool to achieve a perfect temperature, and their new Proofer Pro (~$999)—which, though expensive, is big enough for six bâtards or four boules, and can automatically move from warm proofing temperatures of nearly 100° down to cold retard proof temperatures in the high 30s and low 40s. This is especially useful because domestic-use refrigerators are generally kept at temperatures of 36° to 38°, slightly lower than ideal for cold proofing and likely to virtually stop fermentation rather than slow it down.

There are also much cheaper ways to control temperature. Your oven with nothing but the interior light on gets you a warm, draft-free proofing box for free, and a cooler with a jar of hot water in the corner does nearly as well, at least for a while. Any thermostat-controlled heat mat meant for starting tomatoes or other tender seedlings will work for warming a levain, costs as little as $20, and can be the cheapest fix for a cold starter or levain I know of. Set your jar on one and put it in a box, and it can add and fairly accurately hold 10 or 15 extra degrees, enough to wake a sluggish winter culture that would otherwise take all day to peak. I am not going to pretend this is elegant. It is a garden center product sitting in a leftover cardboard box, but a cold starter is a slow starter, and slow can be the enemy of a predictable bake schedule, so it earns its place in the drawer. I have also pressed other heaters into service, like the type of heating pad I pull out when my back is in its yearly spasm, or the clear plastic soil warming mat I once used for kombucha when that was my obsession du jour/semaine/mois/année.

This matters more in my kitchen than it might in yours because I keep my house so cold, but if your kitchen runs warm, you may never need one, and if you live in a tropical clime, you may instead need a way to cool your dough to keep it in a reasonable production window. When I started, a home baker had to be creative to find ways to do this. Today’s sourdough marketplace is rife with all manner of tools for this purpose.

From the Tools chapter · Bench Scraper

Hands get warm and sticky. Bench scrapers do not. I prefer one with a thin blade profile and a big handle with the sharp corners rounded off, but your hand size will dictate what you find comfortable to use. Make sure it is clean and bone dry before using and between uses, like pre-shape and final shape, to avoid sticking.

I like the Norpro Stainless Steel Bench Scraper (~$12) for its shape and size, thin profile, and measurements printed right on the blade, but I love my Forge to Table Bench Knife (~$85) with leather saya sheath. Unlike a bench scraper, this thing is forged by knife makers and is wicked sharp, hence the saya, and it is called a bench knife because you can use it not only to cut and portion dough, but also to chop chocolate, nuts, or other inclusions on the bench. The stained wooden handle and steel rivets are just so damned pretty, and it’s one of my favorite tools in the kitchen.

From the Tools chapter · Lame and Scoring Tools

This thing is called a lame, and it is pronounced lahm, ’cause it’s French so you ignore most of the letters. It is a razor blade set into a handle, and its entire purpose is to slash the top of the loaf just before it goes into the oven. That slash, the score, is what controls where the bread opens as it expands during baking, and it is what gives you the vaunted ear. Without it, the bread often finds its own way out, which is usually the wrong way.

I used to prefer a straight blade on a handle because it gives you more precision for decorative scoring patterns. My Black Walnut Bread Lame by Zatoba (~$28) is beautiful, fits perfectly in my hand, and makes me happy every time I reach for it, which is a legitimate criterion for a tool you use at a high-stakes moment. Replacement blades cost almost nothing, and most lames come with several. There are many versions of this style available, and newer versions have magnetic blade covers for safety. I also like the newer disc-style blade holders like the Artisan UFO Bread Lame Cutter (~$9 for a set including blades and a case), which holds the blade between two thin discs like a deadly Oreo cookie, and gives you a more natural grip closer to the blade without fear of a bloodletting. My favorites are made of wood with beautiful carvings on them and are therefore included in my list of pretty things.

That said, I recently discovered the advantage of a curved blade, and this is what most professional bakers use: a thin double-edged blade mounted simply on a coffee stirrer stick or thin metal spring called a wire lame using the slit in the center of the blade to weave the spring in one end and out the other causing the blade itself to bend into an arc. Professional bakers often hold these precariously between their teeth, like a rose in a tango dancer’s mouth, as they shovel breads into the oven—which, at the speed they are moving, terrifies me every time I see it.

At first, I thought the curve of the blade was an inconvenient side effect of the cheap mounting device, but in my experiments, I realized that the curve is actually intentional: The technique results in the easiest blade to change, and the curved corner of the blade gets under the skin and raises a truly epic ear. Since I sometimes need to do fine decorative scoring for which a straight blade is better, I also love the Baker of Seville Bread Lame (~$22 with six blades), which can convert from a curved blade to a straight blade by reversing a nut spacer. With this tool, you can try both methods and see what works for you.

Keep the cover on when the lame isn’t in your hand, and change blades at the first sign of drag rather than pressing harder with a dull one.

A word on disposal. When you discard a blade, fold it into a scrap of cardboard and tape it shut before it goes in the trash. Razor blades and trash bags have a long, unhappy history together creating messes of the food waste and bloodletting varieties.

From the Tools chapter · Silicone Bread Sling

If you’re baking in a Dutch oven or other covered vessel, a Koolstuffs Silicone Bread Sling ($15 to $25 for a pair) may be a useful alternative to the flexible mat. It is a long, narrow belt of Silpat-type silicone (which is fine for this application since you won’t be sliding the dough off) with a large round or oval section in the middle to support the bread. It lets you lower the dough in and lift the bread back out with handles that are easy to grasp with gloves on. I use my sliding mat process more than the sling, but both have their advocates, and it depends on your Dutch oven geometry. I turn to the bread sling for some of the more difficult, wet and sticky, or slack doughs, but I find tucking the ends into the Dutch oven so that the top can fit snugly and hold in the steam to be a little awkward (and it’s important to do because the silicone is slightly insulating and may affect the bake). For those worried about burning the bottom crust, this could be an advantage, but I don’t like that it can cause uneven browning when the ears flop over the top, so make sure to tuck them out of the way. Get a pair with ovals and one with rounds in the middle if you bake both boules and bâtards regularly.

From the Tools chapter · Lazy Susan Turntable

This Acacia Wood Lazy Susan (~$18) is a handsome and practical way to turn your dough instead of your lame when scoring anything fancier than a simple single slash and makes it easier to get your work neat and symmetrical.

From the Tools chapter · Stencils

I don’t usually go in for fancy scoring or flour patterns on my bread, but a nice stencil like the Güden Pack of 4 European Artisan Bread Stencils (~$7) can be a fun and easy way to apply flour to make a nice contrasty pattern without needing artistic skills.

From the Tools chapter · Dutch Ovens and Covered Bakers

My primary vessel is the Le Creuset 5.5 Quart Round Dutch Oven in the classic cherry color (~$420, though it goes on sale often). I will not pretend this is an economical choice. It is, however, a tool I have owned for 15 years, which distributes heat perfectly, whose enamel interior releases bread without drama, and that I intend to own for another 50. The price per bake across a lifetime of use is trivial. That said, if you already own one, a Lodge 5 Quart Cast Iron Dutch Oven (~$55) will do exactly the same job for one-eighth as much, though many people find it useful to add parchment paper or a silicone sling under the bread to prevent scorching on the bare black cast iron bottom. If you want an inexpensive Dutch oven specifically designed for bread baking, with the low section on the bottom and the big pot on the top so there are no deep sides to avoid burning yourself on, you can get the much safer to use Lodge 5 Quart Cast Iron Combo Cooker (~$55), whose shallow half moonlights as a perfectly good cast iron skillet. If you’re just starting out, start there. Upgrade when you’re ready.

From the Tools chapter · Dutch Ovens and Covered Bakers

My primary vessel is the Le Creuset 5.5 Quart Round Dutch Oven in the classic cherry color (~$420, though it goes on sale often). I will not pretend this is an economical choice. It is, however, a tool I have owned for 15 years, which distributes heat perfectly, whose enamel interior releases bread without drama, and that I intend to own for another 50. The price per bake across a lifetime of use is trivial. That said, if you already own one, a Lodge 5 Quart Cast Iron Dutch Oven (~$55) will do exactly the same job for one-eighth as much, though many people find it useful to add parchment paper or a silicone sling under the bread to prevent scorching on the bare black cast iron bottom. If you want an inexpensive Dutch oven specifically designed for bread baking, with the low section on the bottom and the big pot on the top so there are no deep sides to avoid burning yourself on, you can get the much safer to use Lodge 5 Quart Cast Iron Combo Cooker (~$55), whose shallow half moonlights as a perfectly good cast iron skillet. If you’re just starting out, start there. Upgrade when you’re ready.

From the Tools chapter · Parchment Paper

If you bake in bare cast iron, a sheet of parchment under the loaf is the standard insurance against a scorched bottom. Buy parchment rated to at least 450°; much of the generic supermarket roll tops out at 425° and will darken and turn brittle at bread temperatures. You can also buy pre-shaped parchment rounds and liners sized for Dutch ovens, some with long paper handles that double as a sling for lowering the dough in. BlissBoard Disposable Parchment Bread Slings (~$10 for 50) are inexpensive and may suit your purpose. One warning from recent experience: A heavy loaf tore the paper handles off one of these slings repeatedly on the way into the pot. Two slings solved it completely, so out of an abundance of caution, if your dough runs wet or your loaf runs large and heavy, double up. Dropping a dough you’ve spent days working on in the final moments is not at all fun. My flexible mats do the loading in my kitchen and my enameled pot does not scorch, so parchment rarely appears in my bakes, but it’s cheap, it works, and if your pot is browning bottoms too hard, it’s the first thing to try.

From the Tools chapter · Apron

Another optional item, but flour does tend to migrate to the most unexpected places, and a good apron not only keeps you clean, but it also has pockets for instant-read thermometers and the like, so they’re always right where you need them when you need them. I like one that’s easy to put on and can be tied at the front like the Hudson Durable Goods Professional Grade Chef Apron (~$37), which works well and looks great.

From the Tools chapter · Specialty Dutch Oven Alternatives

The Challenger Bread Pan (~$300) is an investment-grade cast iron pan designed specifically for bread, featuring a flat bottom that makes loading easy and a wide, shallow lid that gives you more room to score elaborate patterns on bâtards and longer loaves. It was designed by an accomplished baker to solve all the problems he faced when baking, so it’s got features others don’t match, but it is bare, black cast iron—which comes with complications like having to season and maintain it (by applying and wiping off a thin layer of oil every time you clean it). The Emile Henry Bread Cloche (~$120) is a heavy, domed Burgundy clay baker that mimics the even, gentle steam of a traditional brick oven. The Le Creuset Signature Oval Bread Oven (~$250) is enameled cast iron, perfectly proportioned for longer artisanal loaves. All of them work. The choice comes down to the price, specialty features, shapes you bake most often, and how much real estate you have in your cabinet.

From the Tools chapter · Specialty Dutch Oven Alternatives

The Challenger Bread Pan (~$300) is an investment-grade cast iron pan designed specifically for bread, featuring a flat bottom that makes loading easy and a wide, shallow lid that gives you more room to score elaborate patterns on bâtards and longer loaves. It was designed by an accomplished baker to solve all the problems he faced when baking, so it’s got features others don’t match, but it is bare, black cast iron—which comes with complications like having to season and maintain it (by applying and wiping off a thin layer of oil every time you clean it). The Emile Henry Bread Cloche (~$120) is a heavy, domed Burgundy clay baker that mimics the even, gentle steam of a traditional brick oven. The Le Creuset Signature Oval Bread Oven (~$250) is enameled cast iron, perfectly proportioned for longer artisanal loaves. All of them work. The choice comes down to the price, specialty features, shapes you bake most often, and how much real estate you have in your cabinet.

From the Tools chapter · Specialty Dutch Oven Alternatives

The Challenger Bread Pan (~$300) is an investment-grade cast iron pan designed specifically for bread, featuring a flat bottom that makes loading easy and a wide, shallow lid that gives you more room to score elaborate patterns on bâtards and longer loaves. It was designed by an accomplished baker to solve all the problems he faced when baking, so it’s got features others don’t match, but it is bare, black cast iron—which comes with complications like having to season and maintain it (by applying and wiping off a thin layer of oil every time you clean it). The Emile Henry Bread Cloche (~$120) is a heavy, domed Burgundy clay baker that mimics the even, gentle steam of a traditional brick oven. The Le Creuset Signature Oval Bread Oven (~$250) is enameled cast iron, perfectly proportioned for longer artisanal loaves. All of them work. The choice comes down to the price, specialty features, shapes you bake most often, and how much real estate you have in your cabinet.

From the Tools chapter · Bread Knife

A bread knife should have a long, serrated blade to cut bread cleanly and get through the bottom crust when sitting on a cutting board. It doesn’t have to be a dedicated bread knife, and even dedicated ones aren’t always the best solution. A regular serrated blade knife has a flat cutting edge, so with my prized crust, it’s hard to get the blade through the bottom. With a large boule, a shorter blade means you’ll have to do a lot of sawing back and forth, which can leave ugly saw marks on the cut surface. So the best bread knives have a curved blade with a “belly,” aggressive serrations, and an offset handle that lets you apply pressure to the bottom crust without your knuckles hitting the cutting board. These days, I use my good bread knife to cut my boules in half, and then switch to my manual slicer for perfect slices every time.

From the Tools chapter · Manual Bread Slicer

You do not need, but I promise you will love, the CAWIU Upgraded Manual Bread Slicer (~$50), a deli-slicer-looking knockoff of the nearly $300 Zassenhaus Classic that may be even better than the original. I have a very nice collection of knives including several bread knives, which do a pretty good job but are still difficult and dangerous to use on a hard-crusted boule. This thing is solidly built, is attractive with its enamel finish, makes perfect slices, is easy to use, and is small enough to store easily in its included hard-shell cover. I cannot possibly oversell how much better this is than I expected it to be. You do need to be careful to avoid cutting off your thumb as you push the bread toward the blade, so I bought some Microplane brand woven metal food grade cut-resistant gloves (~$15) for my wife lest she de-digitize herself. It is amazing how much cleaner a job it does than even my expensive French bread knife.

From the Tools chapter · Storage Containers and Scoops

When I am baking a lot (which is most of the time), I buy flour in bulk. Twenty-five-pound bags are much cheaper and more convenient, but I need to keep it all in airtight, easily accessible containers like extra-large Cambros similar to the ones I mix in. For even larger quantities, I use Begino 25-pound airtight flour bins on wheels with seal-locking lids, BPA free, sold in pairs with a measuring cup and scoop (two for ~$65). Vevor makes an even bigger but otherwise similar product with large caster wheels ($58 to $134 depending on size) if you need to move them around a lot. For longer-term storage of flour and whole grain berries, a 5-gallon BPA-free food-grade bucket with an airtight Gamma Seal screw-on lid ($25) is ideal and comes in several colors. The wide gamma lid mouth lets you get a scoop in without ceremony, the lid is truly airtight and vermin-resistant, and a bucket will hold a 25-pound bag of flour without drama. Do not store flour in the bag it came in. It is messy, hard to dose from, and a bag left open is an open invitation to critters.

From the Tools chapter · Grain Mills

You already know that I think milling your own flour is one of the most powerful ways to take control of your bread. As to which one to buy, I will give this answer some extra attention. It is a question I see several times a day on the interwebs. Everyone has a different opinion about which is best, but it’s usually their favorite based on what they already own rather than any real comparison between options, so I’ll instead mention what I think the most important considerations are when choosing for yourself.

Type of mill: Like their wind and stream-driven cousins, electric stone mills crush and shear grain between profiled millstones. They tend to produce flour with a texture many bakers prefer, particularly for artisan bread. They are generally quieter than impact mills, though still far from silent, and by adjusting the space between the two stones, they are able to produce a wide range of grind consistencies from coarse meal to fine flour. The other major category is the impact mill; these mills use high-speed steel heads to pulverize grain into flour. The most common examples are the WonderMill Grain Mill (~$329) and NutriMill Classic (~$279), and though I don’t own them, their users recommend them highly. They are typically cheaper, faster, often collect flour more cleanly, and can be easier to live with when milling large quantities, but I find them to be ugly, white plastic eyesores, so I wouldn’t own one if it had to live on my kitchen counter. They are also considerably louder, but the flour they produce is excellent and many serious bakers use them happily, so if price is important and your primary goal is efficiency rather than romance, an impact mill deserves consideration.

A third option. For bakers interested in complete self-sufficiency, hand-crank mills remain available from manufacturers such as Country Living and Diamant. They work well, but I view them as specialty tools, emergency tools, or historical curiosities rather than practical everyday breadmaking equipment. Milling enough flour for a pair of large sourdough loaves by hand is an excellent way to discover muscles you did not know you had.

Appearance: My mill lives on my counter. A cheap looking white plastic contraption may work just as well as my beautiful all wood Mockmill Lino 200, but there’s no way I want it out where I have to look at it all the time. If I had an appliance barn or a convenient place to store it, this wouldn’t matter as much, but aesthetics is always high on my list, and wood stone mills win this category hands down.

Weight: This is a key factor if your mill won’t be staying out on the counter. Lugging around a heavy machine will dissuade you from using it.

Noise: I find the stone mill a less annoying sound, but none of these machines is conversation-friendly.

Heat: Unless you are milling very large quantities, you won’t have too much heat to deal with, but a small stone mill can get the flour hot enough to potentially cause oxidation, so it’s better to work in batches of under a kilo.

Mess/collection container: The impact mills tend to collect the flour internally using a removable drawer or bin. This is far less messy than the spouts of the stone mills, which in addition to filling the bowl placed below them, also tend to spray a fine mist of flour everywhere. I use a sack cloth draped over the machine and bowl while milling to keep the dust down, but it’s a potential issue to consider.

Price and quality: Quality, warranty, and build are just as important as price. As you may learn the hard way, things like the KitchenAid attachment are cheap, but they are also loud, inefficient and not built to last. The higher the quality of your mill, the more you’ll use it, the more you’ll enjoy it, and the more bread you’ll bake. This is a long-term investment, so choose the best one you can afford based on milling technology, looks, collection method (dust mitigation), and noise level.

My choice: The mill I use is the Mockmill Lino 200 (~$700). It is a beautiful machine, which matters to me more than it probably should, but it is also a genuinely excellent stone mill. It lives on my counter, mills flour quickly, produces a very consistent grind, and has been completely reliable with minimal upkeep for many years. If I were replacing my mill tomorrow, I would buy the same one without hesitation.

From the Tools chapter · Automatic Sieve Shaker

A real indulgence, but a tool that makes my life easier and my kitchen messier, this automated shaker took the single most tedious job in my milling routine and turned it into something I can walk away from. Bolting by hand is slow. You shake, you tap, you swirl, you switch hands, you check your progress, and 20 minutes later you have a bowl of high-extraction flour and a sore wrist. The Sidasu Automatic Vibrating Sieve Shaker (~$168 with both the #40 and #60 mesh screens) does the same job with a vibrating motor while I clean the mill, feed the starter, or just stand there feeling smug. Pour the fresh-milled flour in the top, put the lid on, flip the switch, and the machine buzzes the flour through the screen and into the collection pan while the bran stays behind.

Two honest warnings. First, it takes one screen at a time, so a two-stage bolt still means two passes, though each pass runs itself. Second, it earns the “messier” in my opening sentence: A vibrating drum full of the finest flour particles will find every gap you did not know it had, and a fine dust settles on everything nearby until you learn its habits. Run it inside a sheet pan or, better, near the sink and away from anything you love.

Nobody needs this machine: Hand screens do the identical job for a tenth of the price, and if you bolt flour once a month, they are the right answer. But if fresh-milled, high-extraction flour is a weekly habit rather than an occasional experiment, this is the difference between bolting being a chore you dread and a background hum you ignore. Mine has moved from indulgence to fixture.

From the Tools chapter · Stand and Spiral Mixers

I don’t think you need a stand mixer to make exceptional bread, and I want to say that clearly before I tell you that I own one and use it. The point of this book is that you understand what’s happening in the dough, and a mixer can distance you from that understanding when you’re learning. Your hands give you information a mixer cannot.

That said, once you know what well-developed dough feels, looks, and behaves like, a mixer is a legitimate time-saver for certain styles of dough, particularly high-hydration loaves that require extended mixing, and for bakers who have physical limitations that make extended hand mixing difficult.

If you go that route: The KitchenAid Artisan 5-quart ($350 to $450) is the household standard and does an adequate job with the dough hook, though it is a planetary mixer rather than a machine designed for dough, and achieving a passable windowpane is more difficult than it should be. To be fair, even KitchenAid issues warnings about mixing bread dough on anything over Speed 2, so this is underpowered for the job and not really purpose-built for bread. A dedicated bread dough or commercial mixer is a true step up.

The Ankarsrum, with its open bowl and roller, is a purpose-built bread machine in a class of its own, and true spiral mixers such as those from Famag bring the geometry that professional bakeries use, but figure $800 as the starting point and climb from there. The newest entries come from Ooni, of pizza oven fame: The Halo Pro Spiral Mixer (~$799) puts a true rotating-bowl spiral mixer on a home counter with a big 7.3-quart bowl, and the brand-new Halo Core (~$599) packs the same spiral action into a smaller machine at about 4.8 quarts for more modest batches.

I recently got the Zacme 8.4-quart commercial mixer (~$550 retail but often on sale for as low as $385 online). Full disclosure: It is a planetary mixer, the same design I usually find less effective, but built as commercial equipment rather than a countertop appliance. That means it’s NSF-rated, aluminum die-cast, with an 800-watt motor and 11 speeds that run dead quiet—you almost won’t believe it’s on but for the soft whoosh of its cooling fan. It does an excellent job on my lean doughs at low speed; includes a stainless steel paddle, whisk, and dough hook; has a built-in timer with a pause function; and a bright light that allows you to see what’s in the bowl. It is well-balanced and stable even with heavy doughs, with suction-cup feet so it doesn’t walk its way off your counter and onto the floor the way the KitchenAid can. Its stated maximum is about 3 kilograms of dough—one of my standard 1,000 grams flour loaves with room to spare, but not two—so my larger multi-loaf batches still get mixed by hand. It is the machine I reach for on days when my shoulder vetoes the manual work, and at its price, it is the one I’d point most home bakers toward if they want a machine at all.

Whatever machine you use, the variable you need to control is dough temperature: Depending on its technology, a mixer’s friction can warm the dough as it works, so the machine changes your DDT water temperature, not just your manual effort. I would not start with a mixer—get your hands in the dough first—but they are awfully convenient, and the right one can actually improve your dough’s structure and make sticky doughs easier to manage.

From the Tools chapter · Stand and Spiral Mixers

I don’t think you need a stand mixer to make exceptional bread, and I want to say that clearly before I tell you that I own one and use it. The point of this book is that you understand what’s happening in the dough, and a mixer can distance you from that understanding when you’re learning. Your hands give you information a mixer cannot.

That said, once you know what well-developed dough feels, looks, and behaves like, a mixer is a legitimate time-saver for certain styles of dough, particularly high-hydration loaves that require extended mixing, and for bakers who have physical limitations that make extended hand mixing difficult.

If you go that route: The KitchenAid Artisan 5-quart ($350 to $450) is the household standard and does an adequate job with the dough hook, though it is a planetary mixer rather than a machine designed for dough, and achieving a passable windowpane is more difficult than it should be. To be fair, even KitchenAid issues warnings about mixing bread dough on anything over Speed 2, so this is underpowered for the job and not really purpose-built for bread. A dedicated bread dough or commercial mixer is a true step up.

The Ankarsrum, with its open bowl and roller, is a purpose-built bread machine in a class of its own, and true spiral mixers such as those from Famag bring the geometry that professional bakeries use, but figure $800 as the starting point and climb from there. The newest entries come from Ooni, of pizza oven fame: The Halo Pro Spiral Mixer (~$799) puts a true rotating-bowl spiral mixer on a home counter with a big 7.3-quart bowl, and the brand-new Halo Core (~$599) packs the same spiral action into a smaller machine at about 4.8 quarts for more modest batches.

I recently got the Zacme 8.4-quart commercial mixer (~$550 retail but often on sale for as low as $385 online). Full disclosure: It is a planetary mixer, the same design I usually find less effective, but built as commercial equipment rather than a countertop appliance. That means it’s NSF-rated, aluminum die-cast, with an 800-watt motor and 11 speeds that run dead quiet—you almost won’t believe it’s on but for the soft whoosh of its cooling fan. It does an excellent job on my lean doughs at low speed; includes a stainless steel paddle, whisk, and dough hook; has a built-in timer with a pause function; and a bright light that allows you to see what’s in the bowl. It is well-balanced and stable even with heavy doughs, with suction-cup feet so it doesn’t walk its way off your counter and onto the floor the way the KitchenAid can. Its stated maximum is about 3 kilograms of dough—one of my standard 1,000 grams flour loaves with room to spare, but not two—so my larger multi-loaf batches still get mixed by hand. It is the machine I reach for on days when my shoulder vetoes the manual work, and at its price, it is the one I’d point most home bakers toward if they want a machine at all.

Whatever machine you use, the variable you need to control is dough temperature: Depending on its technology, a mixer’s friction can warm the dough as it works, so the machine changes your DDT water temperature, not just your manual effort. I would not start with a mixer—get your hands in the dough first—but they are awfully convenient, and the right one can actually improve your dough’s structure and make sticky doughs easier to manage.

From the Tools chapter · Stand and Spiral Mixers

I don’t think you need a stand mixer to make exceptional bread, and I want to say that clearly before I tell you that I own one and use it. The point of this book is that you understand what’s happening in the dough, and a mixer can distance you from that understanding when you’re learning. Your hands give you information a mixer cannot.

That said, once you know what well-developed dough feels, looks, and behaves like, a mixer is a legitimate time-saver for certain styles of dough, particularly high-hydration loaves that require extended mixing, and for bakers who have physical limitations that make extended hand mixing difficult.

If you go that route: The KitchenAid Artisan 5-quart ($350 to $450) is the household standard and does an adequate job with the dough hook, though it is a planetary mixer rather than a machine designed for dough, and achieving a passable windowpane is more difficult than it should be. To be fair, even KitchenAid issues warnings about mixing bread dough on anything over Speed 2, so this is underpowered for the job and not really purpose-built for bread. A dedicated bread dough or commercial mixer is a true step up.

The Ankarsrum, with its open bowl and roller, is a purpose-built bread machine in a class of its own, and true spiral mixers such as those from Famag bring the geometry that professional bakeries use, but figure $800 as the starting point and climb from there. The newest entries come from Ooni, of pizza oven fame: The Halo Pro Spiral Mixer (~$799) puts a true rotating-bowl spiral mixer on a home counter with a big 7.3-quart bowl, and the brand-new Halo Core (~$599) packs the same spiral action into a smaller machine at about 4.8 quarts for more modest batches.

I recently got the Zacme 8.4-quart commercial mixer (~$550 retail but often on sale for as low as $385 online). Full disclosure: It is a planetary mixer, the same design I usually find less effective, but built as commercial equipment rather than a countertop appliance. That means it’s NSF-rated, aluminum die-cast, with an 800-watt motor and 11 speeds that run dead quiet—you almost won’t believe it’s on but for the soft whoosh of its cooling fan. It does an excellent job on my lean doughs at low speed; includes a stainless steel paddle, whisk, and dough hook; has a built-in timer with a pause function; and a bright light that allows you to see what’s in the bowl. It is well-balanced and stable even with heavy doughs, with suction-cup feet so it doesn’t walk its way off your counter and onto the floor the way the KitchenAid can. Its stated maximum is about 3 kilograms of dough—one of my standard 1,000 grams flour loaves with room to spare, but not two—so my larger multi-loaf batches still get mixed by hand. It is the machine I reach for on days when my shoulder vetoes the manual work, and at its price, it is the one I’d point most home bakers toward if they want a machine at all.

Whatever machine you use, the variable you need to control is dough temperature: Depending on its technology, a mixer’s friction can warm the dough as it works, so the machine changes your DDT water temperature, not just your manual effort. I would not start with a mixer—get your hands in the dough first—but they are awfully convenient, and the right one can actually improve your dough’s structure and make sticky doughs easier to manage.

From the Tools chapter · Stand and Spiral Mixers

I don’t think you need a stand mixer to make exceptional bread, and I want to say that clearly before I tell you that I own one and use it. The point of this book is that you understand what’s happening in the dough, and a mixer can distance you from that understanding when you’re learning. Your hands give you information a mixer cannot.

That said, once you know what well-developed dough feels, looks, and behaves like, a mixer is a legitimate time-saver for certain styles of dough, particularly high-hydration loaves that require extended mixing, and for bakers who have physical limitations that make extended hand mixing difficult.

If you go that route: The KitchenAid Artisan 5-quart ($350 to $450) is the household standard and does an adequate job with the dough hook, though it is a planetary mixer rather than a machine designed for dough, and achieving a passable windowpane is more difficult than it should be. To be fair, even KitchenAid issues warnings about mixing bread dough on anything over Speed 2, so this is underpowered for the job and not really purpose-built for bread. A dedicated bread dough or commercial mixer is a true step up.

The Ankarsrum, with its open bowl and roller, is a purpose-built bread machine in a class of its own, and true spiral mixers such as those from Famag bring the geometry that professional bakeries use, but figure $800 as the starting point and climb from there. The newest entries come from Ooni, of pizza oven fame: The Halo Pro Spiral Mixer (~$799) puts a true rotating-bowl spiral mixer on a home counter with a big 7.3-quart bowl, and the brand-new Halo Core (~$599) packs the same spiral action into a smaller machine at about 4.8 quarts for more modest batches.

I recently got the Zacme 8.4-quart commercial mixer (~$550 retail but often on sale for as low as $385 online). Full disclosure: It is a planetary mixer, the same design I usually find less effective, but built as commercial equipment rather than a countertop appliance. That means it’s NSF-rated, aluminum die-cast, with an 800-watt motor and 11 speeds that run dead quiet—you almost won’t believe it’s on but for the soft whoosh of its cooling fan. It does an excellent job on my lean doughs at low speed; includes a stainless steel paddle, whisk, and dough hook; has a built-in timer with a pause function; and a bright light that allows you to see what’s in the bowl. It is well-balanced and stable even with heavy doughs, with suction-cup feet so it doesn’t walk its way off your counter and onto the floor the way the KitchenAid can. Its stated maximum is about 3 kilograms of dough—one of my standard 1,000 grams flour loaves with room to spare, but not two—so my larger multi-loaf batches still get mixed by hand. It is the machine I reach for on days when my shoulder vetoes the manual work, and at its price, it is the one I’d point most home bakers toward if they want a machine at all.

Whatever machine you use, the variable you need to control is dough temperature: Depending on its technology, a mixer’s friction can warm the dough as it works, so the machine changes your DDT water temperature, not just your manual effort. I would not start with a mixer—get your hands in the dough first—but they are awfully convenient, and the right one can actually improve your dough’s structure and make sticky doughs easier to manage.

From the Tools chapter · Stand and Spiral Mixers

I don’t think you need a stand mixer to make exceptional bread, and I want to say that clearly before I tell you that I own one and use it. The point of this book is that you understand what’s happening in the dough, and a mixer can distance you from that understanding when you’re learning. Your hands give you information a mixer cannot.

That said, once you know what well-developed dough feels, looks, and behaves like, a mixer is a legitimate time-saver for certain styles of dough, particularly high-hydration loaves that require extended mixing, and for bakers who have physical limitations that make extended hand mixing difficult.

If you go that route: The KitchenAid Artisan 5-quart ($350 to $450) is the household standard and does an adequate job with the dough hook, though it is a planetary mixer rather than a machine designed for dough, and achieving a passable windowpane is more difficult than it should be. To be fair, even KitchenAid issues warnings about mixing bread dough on anything over Speed 2, so this is underpowered for the job and not really purpose-built for bread. A dedicated bread dough or commercial mixer is a true step up.

The Ankarsrum, with its open bowl and roller, is a purpose-built bread machine in a class of its own, and true spiral mixers such as those from Famag bring the geometry that professional bakeries use, but figure $800 as the starting point and climb from there. The newest entries come from Ooni, of pizza oven fame: The Halo Pro Spiral Mixer (~$799) puts a true rotating-bowl spiral mixer on a home counter with a big 7.3-quart bowl, and the brand-new Halo Core (~$599) packs the same spiral action into a smaller machine at about 4.8 quarts for more modest batches.

I recently got the Zacme 8.4-quart commercial mixer (~$550 retail but often on sale for as low as $385 online). Full disclosure: It is a planetary mixer, the same design I usually find less effective, but built as commercial equipment rather than a countertop appliance. That means it’s NSF-rated, aluminum die-cast, with an 800-watt motor and 11 speeds that run dead quiet—you almost won’t believe it’s on but for the soft whoosh of its cooling fan. It does an excellent job on my lean doughs at low speed; includes a stainless steel paddle, whisk, and dough hook; has a built-in timer with a pause function; and a bright light that allows you to see what’s in the bowl. It is well-balanced and stable even with heavy doughs, with suction-cup feet so it doesn’t walk its way off your counter and onto the floor the way the KitchenAid can. Its stated maximum is about 3 kilograms of dough—one of my standard 1,000 grams flour loaves with room to spare, but not two—so my larger multi-loaf batches still get mixed by hand. It is the machine I reach for on days when my shoulder vetoes the manual work, and at its price, it is the one I’d point most home bakers toward if they want a machine at all.

Whatever machine you use, the variable you need to control is dough temperature: Depending on its technology, a mixer’s friction can warm the dough as it works, so the machine changes your DDT water temperature, not just your manual effort. I would not start with a mixer—get your hands in the dough first—but they are awfully convenient, and the right one can actually improve your dough’s structure and make sticky doughs easier to manage.