How Commercial Mediation and Bread Baking Share Essential Success Principles
While baking multigrain rolls the other day, I pondered how artisan bread baking is similar to mediating commercial disputes: the skills that make great bread are surprisingly similar to those that create successful mediations. Both require patience, careful observation, and the wisdom to know when to follow the recipe—and when to trust your instincts.
Whether you're a mediator, attorney, business leader, or anyone who navigates complex negotiations, these lessons from the baker's kitchen can transform your approach to conflict resolution.
Reading the Case Like Reading a Recipe: Preparation is Everything
Just as I study a bread recipe before I begin, understanding the hydration rate, types of flours, and enriching ingredients like eggs or milk, I thoroughly analyze each mediation case before the parties arrive. What's the underlying dispute? Who are the key stakeholders? What are the emotional undercurrents? This initial case assessment tells me what kind of "bread" I'm baking—whether I'm dealing with a straightforward contract dispute or a complex multi-party conflict with years of relationship history.
I often create a visual timeline or chart of the mediation process, much like I map out bread-making steps with their timing. This preparation helps me anticipate what comes next and keeps the negotiation process moving smoothly toward resolution.
The Art of Autolyse: Letting Things Rest
In bread baking, there's a crucial step called autolyse—after mixing the flour and water, you cover the dough and wait ten minutes. This pause allows the dry ingredients to fully absorb the moisture before you add more liquid. Rush this step, and you'll end up with a sticky mess from adding too much water.
Mediation has its own version of autolyse. After the initial presentations, I often call for a brief recess. This gives parties time to process what they've heard, allows emotions to settle, and prevents the common mistake of rushing toward solutions before everyone has truly absorbed the situation. Some of my biggest breakthroughs have happened not during heated discussions, but in these quiet moments of reflection.
Following the Formula, Trusting Your Touch
Every bread recipe starts with precise measurements—I weigh my ingredients carefully because baking is science. Similarly, mediation has its established procedures and protocols that provide structure and fairness.
But here's where both arts truly begin: after that initial mixing stage, I set aside my measuring tools and trust my hands. I touch the dough, feel its texture, observe how it responds. Does it need more flour? A bit more water? The dough tells me what the recipe cannot.
In mediation, after we've followed the opening protocols, I watch the room's dynamics. I listen not just to words but to tone, pace, and what's not being said. Sometimes the structured agenda needs to bend. Sometimes we need to slow down or speed up. Sometimes the real issue isn't what's in the complaint—it's something deeper that only emerges through careful observation.
The Power of Fermentation: Building Substance Over Time
Most people think of sourdough when they hear "fermented bread," but I often use poolish or biga—preferments that are much simpler but add tremendous flavor and substance. These mixtures of flour, water, and a tiny bit of yeast develop slowly, creating complex flavors impossible to achieve in a rushed process.
Mediation has its own version of preferments. The best resolutions often come from ideas that have been given time to develop. I plant seeds early—questions that make parties think, small acknowledgments that build trust, reframes that shift perspective. These don't create immediate results, but they ferment in the background, developing into something more substantial than quick fixes ever could.
The slow work of building understanding, like the slow work of fermentation, creates results that last.
Why This Matters
Both bread baking and mediation are ultimately about transformation. Flour, water, salt, and yeast become something entirely new through time, attention, and skill. Similarly, conflicted parties can become collaborative partners when the right conditions are created and maintained.
In our rush-everything world, both crafts remind us that some of the most important work happens slowly, with patience, observation, and trust in the process. Whether I'm shaping a boule or helping reshape a business relationship, the same principles apply: prepare carefully, start with good ingredients, follow proven methods, but always be ready to adapt based on what you observe.
The next time you're facing a difficult conversation—whether it's a formal mediation or just a challenging discussion—remember the baker's wisdom: sometimes the best thing you can do is cover it up and let it rest for a while. You might be surprised by what emerges.
What unexpected parallels have you found between your profession and your hobbies? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Key Takeaways for Mediators and Negotiators
- Thorough preparation beats improvisation - Analyze your case like a recipe before you begin. Understanding the "ingredients" (parties, issues, relationships) helps you predict what kind of resolution process you'll need.
- Strategic pauses create breakthroughs - Like autolyse in bread baking, allowing time for information and emotions to settle prevents rushed decisions and opens space for better solutions.
- Follow proven frameworks, then trust your instincts - Start with established mediation protocols, but be ready to adapt based on what you observe in the room's dynamics.
- Plant seeds early and let them develop - The best settlements often come from ideas introduced early that are given time to "ferment" - small reframes and acknowledgments that build understanding over time.
- Process matters as much as outcome - Both great bread and lasting resolutions require patience, attention to timing, and trust in proven methods rather than rushing to the finish.
- Small adjustments make big differences - Just as a little extra flour or water can transform dough, small changes in tone, pacing, or approach can dramatically shift mediation dynamics.