Long before I ever learned the word proteolysis, my hands already knew something was wrong.

I just didn’t know what it was called.

The first time I noticed the problem was when I switched flours.

In the early days of baking, I used King Arthur Organic Bread Flour, which is still the flour I feed Daisy today. My loaves often include a second flour as well — usually an ancient grain like spelt or einkorn. These grains bring incredible flavor while still allowing a beautiful crumb.

But when I first began baking with King Arthur flour, I actually had the opposite problem from what I would later experience.

My dough was too tight.

Too elastic.

It resisted stretching.

At the time I did not realize it, but looking back now I suspect the starter I purchased from Breadtopia was probably very well balanced in its acidity when I first received it. That balance likely produced a dough that leaned toward strength and elasticity.

Unfortunately, my technique at the time was not developed enough to work with that strength.

Instead of learning how to transform that elasticity into extensibility during fermentation, I decided to experiment with a different flour.

That is when I began using Bob’s Red Mill Artisan Bread Flour.

And the change was immediate.

My dough suddenly became much more extensible.

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Now, it would be easy to blame the flour alone for that change.

But baking is rarely that simple.

At the same time I switched flours, my experience was growing rapidly. I was baking almost every day. My hands were learning the dough. My understanding of fermentation was expanding.

So the difference I felt was likely a combination of both.

But one thing became very clear.

My dough now stretched much more easily.

And because the style of bread I was trying to master requires high hydration, that extensibility became very noticeable.

My dough is typically around 83% hydration, which is considered quite high. At that level the dough becomes fluid and responsive. It is more difficult to handle, but once you learn to read it, the feedback it gives your hands becomes very clear.

And what my hands were telling me was this:

My dough was often too extensible.

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In bread baking there are two critical properties that must exist in balance.

Elasticity

The strength that pulls the dough back after stretching.

Extensibility

The ability of the dough to stretch without tearing.

For beautiful open crumb, these two forces must exist together.

Strength with stretch.

Too much elasticity and the dough refuses to expand.

Too much extensibility and the dough cannot hold the gas bubbles that create large alveoli.

That balance is everything.

And over time I realized my dough was leaning too far toward extensibility.

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The first place I felt it was during coil folds.

When I lifted the dough, it would stretch and stretch and stretch.

At first this felt exciting. Watching a dough extend nearly two feet above the bowl without tearing is a beautiful sight.

But eventually I realized something important.

Anything in excess is a sign of imbalance.

A dough that stretches endlessly but struggles to hold its shape is not strong enough to support the structure required for large gas pockets.

Another clue appeared shortly after folding.

If a dough is balanced, it will slowly relax outward over time.

But my dough often spread quickly across the bowl.

Within fifteen or twenty minutes it would already be reaching the edges.

That is a classic sign of excessive extensibility.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, a dough that remains in a tight ball for hours is overly elastic.

Balance lies somewhere between those two extremes.

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I also noticed the problem very early in the mixing process.

Almost immediately after adding the starter, during the first stretch and fold, the dough already felt too extensible.

At the time I could not understand why.

The dough had barely begun fermenting.

Why would it already feel so loose?

Looking back now, the answer seems obvious.

The starter itself was already weakened.

The extensibility was entering the dough from the very beginning.

But at the time I never suspected Daisy.

I assumed the problem must be my technique.

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So I worked harder on the craft.

I added more folds to build strength.

I experimented with shaping methods.

I adjusted fermentation timing.

I pushed bulk fermentation farther and farther until the dough resembled a giant balloon — a stage that often produces the large alveoli I was seeking.