WE DO EVENTS | More Info
WE DO EVENTS | More Info
Everything you can do in 48 hours whilst our pinsa dough is fermenting.
Good things take time, and we certainly know a good thing when we have one.
Here’s something most people don’t realise about the pinsa they’re inhaling on a Saturday night: it’s older than they think. Not in a sad, forgotten-at-the-back-of-the-fridge way, but in a slow, deliberate and super worth it way.
Every Flour Child pinsa starts with our signature Di Marco Pinsa Romana flour: a specialised blend of wheat, rice and soy flours. It’s mixed into a high-hydration dough and then left completely alone for 48 hours. That’s two full days of slow fermentation before it ever says hello to the oven.
The fermenting is the part that does all the work. The cooking is simply the season finale.
Which got me thinking: 48 hours is a bloody long time. Like any deeply time-aware person, I began wondering, “What exactly could you get up to while your future dinner is quietly becoming the tastiest thing you’ll eat all week?”
I’m glad you asked because I need to share my findings.
Ahhh, how every good day begins.
You make a detailed to-do list in your Notes app. You reorganise your desk, mine is dire right now, seriously. You spend a confident ten minutes curating the perfect focus playlist. Or perhaps it’s just one song played repeatedly if you’re a freak.
Real productivity obviously can’t begin until the vibe is right.
Meanwhile, the Di Marco Pinsa Romana flour has been mixed into a high-hydration dough and has already started fermenting. No playlist required.
You begin with grand ambitions of transforming your home into something straight off Pinterest.
You end up kneeling on the kitchen floor, fully committed to sorting out that drawer. You know the one: the plastic container drawer with 20 missing lids and half its contents somehow fallen down the back.
Draining.
The dough continues to rest, slowly developing flavour and structure. No notes. No plastic container drawer.
You watch one harmless episode of Law & Order: SVU and suddenly you’re hooked. Mariska is now your icon, Amanda’s sister is seriously pissing you off, and you know the entire opening sequence by heart.
You then discover, to your horror, that one day you’ll run out of episodes (there’s legit 24 seasons) and have absolutely nothing left to watch.
Your dough remains calm, unbothered and quietly committed to personal growth.
In theory, you get a healthy and restorative eight hours of sleep. In practice, you scroll for two hours, sleep for six and wake up feeling personally victimised by your own alarm. You also spent the entire night dreaming about your inbox.
Sad story.
Throughout the night, the slow fermentation continues working its magic. It doesn’t scroll. It doesn’t hit snooze. It simply does its thing.
You answer the emails you dreamt about, take one million phone calls and proceed to open 20 different tabs across five different windows.
You begin planning dinner or deciding where you could go out to eat instead before your first coffee has even kicked in. Flour Child, obviously.
By this stage, the dough is developing the airy internal structure that gives Pinsa Romana its signature texture. It’s having a more productive day than all of us.
You answer the emails you dreamt about, take one million phone calls and proceed to open 20 different tabs across five different windows.
You begin planning dinner or deciding where you could go out to eat instead before your first coffee has even kicked in. Flour Child, obviously.
By this stage, the dough is developing the airy internal structure that gives Pinsa Romana its signature texture. It’s having a more productive day than all of us.
You agree to drinks. You attempt to coordinate six different schedules. You watch the group chat descend into complete chaos over where to meet, who’s driving and whether anyone actually feels like going anymore.
Luckily, Flour Child already exists, so at least the “where” is sorted.
You question your haircut and begin cutting yourself a fringe with the kitchen scissors. Please don’t.
You rearrange your bedroom at 11pm. Sorry, housemates. You briefly consider moving overseas again. You ask ChatGPT to create a budgeting app and then delete it immediately.
The dough remains considerably more emotionally stable than you are. As it should
You shower. You choose an outfit. You reject the outfit. You return to the original outfit.
You send “leaving now” to the group chat while you’re still blow-drying that new fringe of yours.
Your Di Marco Pinsa Romana dough is finally approaching the end of its 48-hour fermentation. It’s ready. Emotionally, it has been ready for some time.
The dough is hand-pressed into its signature oval shape, topped and baked until it’s crisp on the outside and beautifully soft and airy inside.
You completed roughly nine side quests, one identity crisis and the plastic container drawer. You’re rocking a new hairstyle and a Pinterest-worthy bedroom, all while the dough completed exactly one task—and absolutely nailed it.
That long, slow fermentation is the whole point. It’s what transforms our Di Marco Pinsa Romana flour into the crisp, airy and beautifully light base that makes a Flour Child pinsa genuinely different from your regular pizza.
You can’t shortcut it, and we wouldn’t want to.
It takes us 48 hours to make it. It will take your table approximately four minutes to finish it.
Rude, but understandable. xx
Want to learn how to make this dough? Don’t worry theres no waiting period…
