How to bake perfect spelt bread

Sometimes I worry that I’m flighty. And not in a charming, no one can tie me down, I’m-a-free-spirit sort of way. But rather skittish, unreliable, inconstant. When I feel that way, I come home and bake spelt bread.

Spelt bread is grounding. It is quick, physical work that you have to do with your hands. It doesn’t require skill, implements or fancy ingredients. I don’t need to set a timer or panic about precision. It transforms me into someone pragmatic, capable and resilient. Spelt bread turns me into the baker I wanted to be when I first started cooking.

I love sourdough. I think it’s magical, in the most literal sense of the word. It makes me feel like an alchemist or a witch standing over a cauldron, day by day watching the mixture slowly change from flour and water to something capable of making a loaf of bread and, finally, an actual loaf.