REFERENCE
Five master bakers wrote five canonical books, and they contradict each other on fourteen real decisions. Sit them down, take each dispute in turn, and pick a side — you leave with your own method and the name of whichever master you actually bake like.
Hamelman
The professional
Score it
Robertson
The flavour hunter
Score it
Buehler
The scientist
Score it
Forkish
The minimalist
Never score
Reinhart
The teacher
Score it
Shaping & scoring
A score decides where the loaf opens. Skip it and the loaf still opens — just wherever it likes.
2 positions on the table — pick the one you bake
The docket
0 / 14 decided
Starter
Mixing
Bulk fermentation
Shaping & scoring
Baking
After the bake
Whose bread are you making?
Decide a dispute or two and this fills in. Each baker is scored only on the disputes where they actually stated a position, so the quiet ones aren't punished.
If you have read more than one bread book, you have already run into this problem. Chad Robertson tells you to preheat the Dutch oven to 500°F. Ken Forkish tells you 475°F. Robertson says the dough should grow 20–30% during bulk fermentation; Forkish says let it triple. Robertson scores every loaf; Forkish never scores at all. Robertson says wait two to four hours before cutting; Forkish says twenty minutes; Jeffrey Hamelman says wait a day or two. Nobody is wrong, and that is precisely what makes it confusing.
Most bread writing hides this. A single book presents its method as the method, because that is what a book has to do — it is teaching one coherent approach and cannot stop every page to litigate alternatives. The result is that home bakers end up quietly convinced there is one correct number for everything, and that whichever book they read second is somehow wrong. The Baker's Round Table does the opposite: it puts the five most-cited authorities in the same room and shows you exactly where they part ways.
Almost every dispute on the docket dissolves once you know what else the baker is doing. Take the biggest one — how much the dough should rise during bulk fermentation. A four-fold gap between Robertson's 20–30% and Forkish's tripled dough looks irreconcilable until you notice that Forkish is fermenting with commercial yeast over a long bulk while Robertson is using a young wild leaven over a shorter one. Apply Forkish's target to Robertson's leaven and you get a slack, over-fermented dough. Apply Robertson's target to commercial yeast and you get an under-developed one. Both numbers are correct inside their own system.
The same holds for the Dutch oven. Robertson preheats hotter but briefly; Forkish preheats cooler but soaks the iron for forty-five minutes so the vessel itself carries the heat. Both are buying an aggressive first ten minutes — they are just paying for it differently. This is why copying one number out of a method is the most reliable way to get a disappointing loaf: the numbers are load-bearing for each other.
A few disagreements are genuinely a matter of taste rather than system. Forkish's refusal to score is the clearest example — four of the five bakers want to place the break deliberately, and he would rather let the seam split on its own because he prefers how it looks. That is an aesthetic position, honestly held, and the tool labels it as such rather than pretending there is hidden science behind it.
The disagreements are more interesting, but the agreements are more useful. When five bakers with this little else in common all land in the same place, you should treat it as settled rather than stylistic: baker's percentages as the only proper way to express a formula; weighing rather than measuring by volume; salt at roughly 2% of flour weight and never in the autolyse; the poke test as the primary readiness signal; steam as non-negotiable for oven spring; longer fermentation for more flavour; surface tension as the entire point of shaping; and never, under any circumstances, refrigerating fresh bread.
That last one has a mechanism worth knowing, because it explains why the consensus is so firm. Staling is not bread drying out — it is starch retrogradation, where gelatinised starch molecules slowly re-crystallise and push water out of the crumb. The rate is temperature-dependent and it peaks at 2–4°C, which is exactly your refrigerator. Bread genuinely goes stale faster in the fridge than on the counter.
The alignment bars are not a raw tally. Each baker is scored only across the disputes where they actually stated a position — Emily Buehler weighs in on a handful, Ken Forkish on most of them — so the percentage answers "when this baker had an opinion, how often did you agree?" rather than rewarding whoever talks most. A raw count would crown Forkish for nearly everyone, which would tell you nothing.
You will probably not come out as a pure anyone. Most experienced bakers turn out to be hybrids — Robertson's young leaven and dark bakes with Forkish's fold discipline, or Hamelman's timings with Robertson's bare-bench shaping. That is a legitimate place to land, and knowing which hybrid you are is more useful than picking a team, because it tells you which book to reach for when a particular stage goes wrong.
Every position, temperature, percentage, and quote in this tool comes from the five books themselves, by way of our internal bread knowledge synthesis, which preserves each figure exactly as its source states it: Jeffrey Hamelman's Bread (3rd edition), Chad Robertson's Tartine Bread, Emily Buehler's Bread Science, Ken Forkish's Flour Water Salt Yeast, and Peter Reinhart's The Bread Baker's Apprentice. Each dispute cites the synthesis section it came from.
One editorial rule governs what counts as a dispute: at least two authors must hold different stated positions on the same decision. Where a difference turns out not to be a real disagreement — Robertson's 212°F internal temperature versus the standard 180–200°F, which simply follows from him baking darker — that is recorded as a reconciliation instead of being dressed up as a fight. There are fourteen genuine disputes and ten points of unanimous agreement.