Rediscovering Spelt: My Journey with an Ancient Grain
Lately, I’ve been baking a lot with spelt. It started as an experiment, but the more I work with it, the more fascinated I’ve become; not just with how it bakes, but with the story it carries.
I first reached for spelt out of curiosity. I’d read that it was one of the oldest cultivated grains, a relative of modern wheat with roots stretching back thousands of years. There’s something grounding about working with an ingredient that connects me to such a long lineage of bakers and farmers. People who were feeding their communities long before industrial flour or standardized recipes existed. I think part of me wanted to feel closer to that kind of simplicity, to see what lessons an ancient grain might hold for a modern baker like me.
The first time I laminated dough with spelt flour, I expected it to behave like wheat. It didn’t. The gluten was softer, more tender, and the dough wanted to relax at every turn. It didn’t fight back the way a strong bread flour would; instead, it asked me to slow down, to pay attention. The layers weren’t as tight or regimented as a classic French croissant, and at first, I thought I had “done something wrong.” But when I pulled them from the oven, what I found was different… but beautiful.
The croissants were more open, more feathery, almost flake-on-flake instead of honeycomb pockets. They stayed crisp longer, and the flavor was deeper: nutty, sweet, almost malty, like toasted grain and honey. That was the moment I realized spelt wasn’t just a substitute for wheat. It had its own voice.
Working with spelt has become a kind of teacher for me. It’s reminded me that not everything has to conform to expectation to be worthy. Sometimes, in trying to force dough (or ourselves) into a familiar shape, we miss the beauty of what’s trying to emerge naturally. Spelt’s softness, its willingness to unfold rather than resist, has changed the way I approach lamination, and honestly, the way I approach baking as a whole.
Now, every time I mix a dough with spelt, I feel like I’m in conversation with something older and wiser than myself. It asks me to listen, to adapt, and to celebrate what makes it unique rather than trying to make it behave like something else. And that lesson, I think, extends far beyond the kitchen.
A Grain with History
Spelt (Triticum spelta) is one of humanity’s oldest cultivated grains, dating back over 8,000 years. It was a staple in Bronze Age Europe and especially beloved in medieval Germany, where it was known as dinkel. Monks praised it for being nourishing and easy to digest.
But as farming industrialized, spelt’s protective husk made it too labor intensive compared to modern wheat. Spelt's unique characteristic, its tightly bound, protective husk that had once been an advantage, became a disadvantage. This husk, while safeguarding the grain from pests and environmental damage, also made the milling process more labor-intensive and time-consuming compared to modern wheat varieties that were being developed for easier processing. As a result, spelt gradually receded from mainstream cultivation and consumption, overshadowed by the efficiency-driven demands of the burgeoning industrial food system.
For many decades, spelt remained largely forgotten, relegated to the fringes of the agricultural landscape. Yet, in recent years, a renewed interest in traditional grains has emerged, driven by a growing desire among bakers and eaters alike for food that offers more than just sustenance. This resurgence is fueled by a search for richer, more complex flavors that mass-produced grains often lack, a demand for greater nutritional value, and a longing for a deeper connection to the origins and processes of what we consume. Spelt, with its ancient heritage, distinctive nutty taste, and impressive nutritional profile, has once again captured the attention of those of us seeking to rediscover the bounty of forgotten grains and to foster a more mindful relationship with our food.
The Science Behind the Dough
Working with spelt has truly been a journey of discovery, teaching me the invaluable lessons of patience and softness in the kitchen. Unlike the robust, unyielding gluten found in modern bread wheat, spelt's gluten is a delicate creature. It simply doesn't respond well to being pushed too hard or manipulated aggressively. Over-mixing it, for example, quickly leads to a torn, unmanageable dough, while stretching it too far results in frustrating resistance and a loss of its inherent elasticity.
However, when approached with a gentle hand and a mindful presence, spelt generously rewards the baker. The result is a tender crumb, a texture that melts in the mouth, and a depth of flavor that transcends the ordinary. It's a taste that feels ancient, a gift from another time, connecting us to a rich culinary heritage.
I've observed the fascinating science in action within spelt dough. Its unique proteins form a gluten network, but one that is inherently more water-soluble and less rigid than that of modern wheat. This characteristic explains why spelt dough tends to spread more readily and why the shaping process can sometimes feel a little unpredictable, demanding a different kind of finesse.
Yet, these very qualities are precisely what contribute to the exceptional character of spelt breads and pastries. They possess an earthy sweetness that is both subtle and profound, and a complex flavor profile that is truly unparalleled, often featuring nutty, almost malty undertones. It’s this delicate balance – the challenge of mastering its unique behavior in the kitchen and the rich reward of its distinctive taste and texture – that makes working with spelt such a deeply satisfying experience, transforming it from a mere ingredient into a true culinary adventure. The satisfaction comes not just from the final product, but from the journey of understanding and coaxing the best out of this ancient grain.
Why I Keep Coming Back
For me, spelt has become more than just another flour in my pantry. It’s a reminder that baking isn’t about control, it’s about listening. Every time I roll out spelt dough, I feel like I’m in conversation with a grain that’s been with us for thousands of years.
When I bake with spelt, I’m not just making bread or croissants. I’m learning to embrace difference, to celebrate imperfection, and to honor a grain that refuses to be tamed into sameness.
Sources & Further Reading
If you love geeking out about grains as much as I do, here are some of the sources I explored while diving into spelt’s history and science. They range from archaeology papers to baking science studies; perfect if you want to see just how deep this rabbit hole goes!
Genomic Insights into the Origin and Evolution of Spelt (Triticum spelta)
Read on PubMed CentralComparative Study on Gluten Protein Composition of Ancient Wheats (Including Spelt)
Read on PubMed CentralInventions, Innovations and the Origins of Spelt Wheat
Read on SpringerGluten Proteins from Spelt (Triticum aestivum ssp. spelta) Cultivars: A Rheological and Size-Exclusion High Performance Liquid Chromatography Study
Read PDF from USDAChemical Characterization and Breadmaking Potential of Spelt
Read on ScienceDirectDifferences in Processing Quality Traits, Protein Content and Composition Between Spelt and Bread Wheat Genotypes
Read on PubMed CentralSpanish Spelt Wheat: From an Endangered Genetic Resource to a Crop with Potential
Read on PubMed CentralRheological Behavior of Emmer, Spelt, and Khorasan Flours
Read on Wiley Online Library
What is Gluten, Really?
Before I can go into my experience working beyond wheat, I think we need to take a moment to discuss the most important protein in bread baking: gluten.
When you picture gluten, you might think of stretchy dough, windowpane tests, and chewy bread. That’s not wrong, but it’s not the full picture either. Gluten doesn’t look or behave the same in every grain. In fact, each grain builds its own unique structure. Those different gluten structures allow each grain to behave differently, giving them each their own specific baking properties. Understanding those differences isn’t just food science trivia; it’s the key to unlocking bread that works with the grain, rather than fighting against it.
What Does Gluten Look Like?
Gluten is a protein network formed when water meets certain grain flours, specifically the proteins gliadin and glutenin. The way those proteins bond determines how elastic, extensible, or delicate the dough will be.
Think of gluten like building materials: some grains make steel cables, others make silk threads. Both can be beautiful, but they need different handling to shine.
A Spectrum of Structures
Wheat – The “classic” grain for bread baking. Balanced elasticity (stretch) and extensibility (ability to hold shape). Creates strong, bouncy dough that can handle long fermentation and high hydration.
Spelt – More fragile gluten bonds. Less elastic than wheat and quick to overdevelop. Can produce wonderfully tender, open crumbs. But push it too far, and the structure collapses.
Rye – Very low gluten-forming proteins. Structure relies more on pentosans, which hold water and give rye bread its dense but moist texture. Doesn’t behave like wheat at all. That’s part of the charm!
Einkorn – Ancient and nutrient-rich, but its gluten is weak and sticky. Hydrates quickly, doesn’t stretch much, and benefits from gentle shaping.
Barley / Oats – Almost no gluten. Great for flavor and nutrition when blended with higher-gluten flours, but won’t form a strong bread structure on their own.
Why This Matters in the Kitchen
Strong gluten can trap more gas, giving you tall, airy loaves. Weak gluten produces breads that are lower and denser, but also softer and more tender.
This is why you can’t treat every grain like wheat.
A long, aggressive knead that works for strong bread flour can destroy delicate spelt dough.
High hydration that benefits a wheat loaf might cause einkorn to spread into a flat pancake.
Rye needs fermentation and shaping strategies that respect its unique chemistry and wildly different gluten structure.
When you understand the structure you’re working with, you can tailor your technique. And just like that, instead of “failing,” you’re collaborating with the grain.
How I Learned This (My Spelt Journey)
Lately, I’ve been working almost exclusively with spelt. At first, I kept treating it like wheat: long kneads, cold overnight ferments, and high hydrations. And at first… I kept getting flat loaves and tight crumbs.
It wasn’t until I started respecting spelt’s delicate gluten that things shifted. Shorter mixing. Slightly lower hydration. Warm but not too warm fermentation. Now, I’m pulling more open, tender crumb loaves from the oven and marveling at how much character this grain has when it’s allowed to just be itself.
I’m still learning, and still listening to the grain. I have a long way to go until I truly know what spelt needs to thrive. Unlike wheat, spelt creates a delicate, almost custardy interior crumb.
No, it’s not pudding in the middle, but it does melt in your mouth. It has much less chew to it than wheat. I
ts crumb structure is often much more uniform, with smaller fermentation holes due to its higher gliadin to glutenin ratio (meaning, it’s not nearly as elastic as wheat). It has its own movements, its own rhythm, its own personal tells.
While spelt is the most “wheat-like” of ancient grains in how it behaves, it certainly is not wheat. Taking the time to listen to what it needs made all the difference for me.
The Takeaway
Gluten is not a one-size-fits-all protein structure. Each grain has it’s own unique network of protein bonds, made up of glutenin and gliadin.
Once you start recognizing how gluten behaves in different grains, you stop fighting your dough and start collaborating with it. And that’s when the magic happens.
The Grain Less Traveled
Baking has always been a deeply personal act for me. With well over a decade of professional baking experience under my belt, I’ve found myself reflecting more and more on what baking means to me. Not just on a technical level, but also emotionally.
This blog is a journal of sorts; a reflection on the study I’ve dedicated my entire adult life to.
Breaducated started with a simple initiative: make education accessible through a tangible, real world application. In many ways, that’s still very true. But more and more, Breaducated has become my personal field guide and philosophy; a place for me to explore what grains have taught me, what I’m still learning, and how baking has become a lifeline for the moments when I feel most misunderstood in the world.
Lately, I’ve been working exclusively with spelt. An ancient grain with a delicate gluten structure that is often considered temperamental and finicky in comparison to wheat. In a lot of ways, this has become a deeply personal project. I see myself in spelt. In how it has been labelled too unpredictable, too delicate, too specific in it’s needs.
As someone who has found it difficult to find her place in this world, to find a sense of community, and to feel understood by those around her, I have learned so much from and related so heavily to spelt as a grain. It’s need for gentleness. It’s desire to be seen for who it is, not to be compared to modern wheat. Spelt doesn’t act like modern wheat. It ferments faster. Its gluten is more delicate. It doesn’t hold shape the same way, and it doesn't like to be forced. Working with it requires a different kind of listening. And the more time I’ve spent with it —testing hydration, experimenting with lamination, watching it collapse and rise again —the more I’ve realized: spelt is teaching me how to approach things with less control and more care.
And so, this is the introduction to The Grain Diaries. Part personal reflection, part scientific log of my journey with spelt. Yes, this is about the science of grain, gluten, and baking. But it’s also about identity, failure, discovery, and intention. It’s about the lessons we learn when we truly listen to our ingredients and ourselves in the process.
Over the next few weeks, I’ll be writing about:
What makes spelt different from wheat
How gluten behaves across ancient grains
What I’ve learned from trying to laminate with a flour that resists definition
And how all of this ties back to the core of Breaducated: that education is a right, and learning is most powerful when it’s experiential.
I don’t know exactly where this path is leading yet. But I know I need to walk it.
So… this is where I’ll start.
With the grain. With the questions. With the need to understand, and the hope that maybe someone else out there is wondering about the same things, too.
Welcome to The Grain Diaries. I’m glad you’re here.