The Secrets of Dough

Looking through old recipes I found tucked away in a drawer, I noticed that ingredients were measured by the cup, the spoon, and "the eye", or for flour, "as much as needed". "The eye" meant "you'll see", you judge by your taste or sense of what's needed. "As much as needed" meant adding just enough flour depending on its type, so the dough would be soft. Every flour behaves differently. Soft, hard, or whole wheat, each has its own moisture and absorption. What works for one might not work for another.

These instructions, "by the eye" and "as much as needed", were tough for me when I was starting. To get them right, a cook needed experience, hours in the kitchen, trying, failing, until she herself became the "scale" for every ingredient.

I must have been around 23 when I decided to roll out dough for the first time. I had watched my mother do it countless times. With effortless skill, she would roll ten sheets, four for the base, then the filling, then the remaining six.

"Mom, I'm rolling it, and it's shrinking."

"Which one, dear?"

"The sheet, I started making spinach pie."

I wrestled with the rolling pin for half an hour, then gave up and called her.

My mother was an excellent cook, but she did everything by the eye. That eye caused me so much frustration!

"You'll put some flour in a bowl, add water and a pinch of salt, and knead it until it forms a ball."

"How much flour?"

"Well.. by the eye. You'll see".

And I saw... I made a dough ball that, if you threw it against the wall, would leave a hole. Her eye was different from mine.

Two things were missing from my dough: the right moisture to make it soft and flexible, and rest. As we knead dough, gluten develops, forming a network that holds everything together. When we let it rest, the network relaxes, allowing us to roll it out without shrinking.

In the same way, perhaps we function like dough. When are we ready to truly listen and communicate? When do we withdraw, and when do we open ourselves? Dough teaches us the value of pausing, even just fifteen minutes, the time it needs to "settle". It teaches us rest before action.

Just as gluten develops through kneading, transforming a sticky mix into soft, pliable dough, our commitment and presence in challenging moments create unique, flexible relationships that endure over time.

And if you want to try these secrets in practice:

Pour 1 cup of water, 1/4 cup of olive oil, a pinch of salt, and a few drops of vinegar into a large bowl. Gradually add flour, starting with one cup, stirring constantly. Begin kneading with your hands. As you turn the mixture with your palm, add a little more flour if it's too stickey. When it only sticks slightly to your fingers, transfer the dough to a floured surface and continue kneading. Take your time, the dough will gradually come together.

Remember the secrets of dough. Before rolling it out with a rolling pin, let it rest for at least 15 minutes, covered with a towel.