The Story of Spelt

  How an Ancient Grain Inspires Modern Baking

BY MIKE JOYCE | PHOTOS BY ROBERTO QUEZADA-DARDÓN

THIS IS A STORY OF HOW I FELL IN LOVE with spelt grain and how that grain altered both my understanding of local foods and my own culinary path.

I discovered spelt, one of the oldest cultivated grains, when I was the chef at the now-shuttered Molinari’s in Bethlehem. We had a significant homemade pasta program, yet I was unhappy with the quality of commodity flour. So I sought out alternatives.

That led me to Castle Valley Mill in Doylestown and its dizzying array of flours—whole-grain rye, malted barley, and spelt. All of them grown by Pennsylvania farmers. After I made a spelt flour tagliatelle with braised buck for the first time, I was hooked. It offered the flavor I was looking for. It was redolent of whole grains and a flavor that expressed where they were grown.

But spelt was more than that. It it was the gateway to discovering a local grain culture that we nearly almost lost to modern farming practices. Now, however, thanks to a pioneering group of farmers, millers, bakers, and chefs across this country, spelt is experiencing a bit of revival.

After I made a spelt flour tagliatelle with braised buck for the first time, I was hooked. It offered the flavor I was looking for: reminiscent of the pastas I ate in Italy—redolent of whole grains and with a taste that was expressive of where they were grown.

THE LURE OF SPELT

Farmers are discovering that organically grown spelt is a critical component of their crop rotation; it has deeper roots that enable farmers to sequester more nutrients in the soil. Bakers love spelt’s subtly sweet and nutty flavor. For those who are gluten-sensitive, spelt has proven itself as an alternative to modern wheat. Its gluten is more fragile and soluble in water. This means it’s easier for our bodies to digest. Furthermore, whole spelt is high in fiber (helps your cholesterol). It is also a great source of beneficial nutrients, anti-oxidants, and minerals including iron and magnesium and vitamins B and E.

A cousin of modern-day wheat, spelt was domesticated thousands of years ago in the area now known as Iraq. But by 3000 BCE, it was all over Europe, Africa, and Asia. As civilizations moved west, spelt followed. Today, in Germany spelt takes the name dinkel and remains common. In Italy, the berries of all three ancient wheat varieties—spelt, emmer, and einkorn—take the confusing farro. At the turn of the 19^th century, Swiss immigrants brought spelt with them when they settled in North America. By 1910, more than 600,000 tons of spelt were being harvested annually in the U.S.

But in order to understand the story of spelt, we need to understand the history of wheat.

THE EMERGENCE OF WHEAT AND SPELT GRAIN

The colonization of the Americas brought wheat to this continent, thanks to Spanish explorers in Mexico and early British colonists. Wheat held significant value both for trade and as a food source. Up to this point, wheat was mostly harvested and processed by hand and ground using stones. A sickle would cut down the stalks of wheat and then it would be threshed with a flail to separate the wheat berry from its chaff or husk. The wheat berries would then be transported to the local community gristmill to be ground into flour. By the mid 18^th century, 25,000 of these mills were spread up and down the East Coast.

Stone milling is the oldest method for processing grain yet remains the most reliable; the cool, gentle process preserves the nutrients in the grain. The resulting flour is a creamy mix of the whole wheat berry: bran, germ, and endosperm. Like wine, this flour was distinctively flavorful—expressive of a particular terroir. Yet by the end of the 19^th century, water-powered stone mills had all but disappeared.

Stone milling is the oldest method for processing grain yet remains the most reliable; the cool, gentle process preserves the nutrients in the grain.

The invention of the roller mill in the late 1860s modernized wheat production, making a more shelf-stable product by stripping away the nutrient-dense but perishable bran and germ. Ironically, nutrients needed to be added back into this resulting modern white flour, along with preservatives. Enter Wonder Bread, the poster child of American industrialization, which helped render the stone mill obsolete.

As the American consumer became enamored with sliced white bread and all things made with white flour, spelt began to fade. Another factor? Spelt is more labor-intensive to harvest and results in a lower yield, as its large husk protects it from both insects and weather, eliminating the need for pesticides and fungicides. Many older grains feature this natural protection.

Recently, two events exposed the vulnerability of the global wheat market: the financial crisis in 2008 and the Covid-19 pandemic in 2020. The former caused the price of wheat to more than double and the latter resulted in wheat harvest disruption, food shortages, and increased retail prices. Like a lot of other people struggling at home during Covid lockdown, I baked a lot of sourdough bread, but flour quickly disappeared from supermarket shelves. Luckily, I could escape to a local farmers market for fresh air and freshly milled flour. Covid exposed the vulnerabilities of our “modern” food system. Small farmers and local mills stepped up to fill the void as best they could. Collectively as a country, we rediscovered whole-grain flours.

Down a winding road the Lobachsville Mill has survived, thanks in part to the efforts of Stephen Kindig, a retired molinologist (someone who studies mills). Built in 1745, the mill remained in use up to the early 1960s. Kindig purchased the mill shortly thereafter and has been lovingly restoring it.

THE REDISCOVERY OF SPELT

Among the rolling hills in the bucolic Oley Valley in Berks County, you’ll find dairy farms, artisanal cheesemakers, and an exciting new generation of farmers defending Old World grains and practices. The lush Oley Valley appealed to Swiss and German immigrants who settled here as early as 1725. Bordered by the Manatawny and Monocacy Creeks, Oley became a center of early industry with both grain and lumber mills.

Many of those mills have long since disappeared or fallen into disrepair, yet down a winding road the Lobachsville Mill has survived, thanks in part to the efforts of Stephen Kindig, a retired molinologist (someone who studies mills). Built in 1745, the mill remained in use up to the early 1960s. Kindig purchased the mill shortly thereafter and has been lovingly restoring it. Although it’s only about 80 percent functional, his grandson, Tom Stokes, continues to restore it to its former glory and mill local grains. That dream led Kindig to a partnership with a local grain farmer, Sam Mallatratt of Brooke-Lee Farm.

Growing up in Fleetwood, Mallatratt has spent his whole life farming the Oley Valley. Sharing Germanic lineage with many of the early settlers to the area, Mallatratt has discovered the many benefits of growing spelt and other ancient grains like buckwheat and oats. By today’s standards, he is a very small farmer, working about 40 acres of “oddball lots” that nobody else wanted to grow on. He described these lots as “wrung the hell out” from years of synthetic fertilizer and chemical pesticide use. Often the soil was in such bad shape, the only thing that would grow was potatoes, known for their resilience.

Early on, he had luck with buckwheat, and it became his gateway to growing grain. Besides creating a tasty flour, buckwheat helps prevent soil erosion, and offers the organic farmer soil improvement and weed suppression. Nowadays, Mallatratt farms a mix of hard red wheat (a baker’s favorite), oats, barley, and spelt. He’s only in his second season of growing spelt, which flourishes in the Oley Valley, but the results are encouraging. Spelt is quite happy growing in the colder (and humid) Pennsylvania climate.

I came to know Sam when he stopped by a restaurant I was running. He was looking to sell rabbits and his collection of flours and grains. We bonded over knowing many of the same chefs in Philadelphia and a shared enthusiasm for spelt. Over the past year, I have made just about everything you can think of from his spelt flour: garlicky focaccia, tender buttermilk biscuits, blueberry muffins, and aromatic naturally leavened breads.

I was hooked. I kept making deeply caramelized loaves of sourdough, and they provided a turning point in my career, provoking a pivot from a career in restaurants. I decided to build a community-based bakery that utilized locally grown and milled grains. The idea would evolve into my microbakery Bub’s Breads.

So, on an overcast early fall morning, I met up with Tom and Sam at the Crooked Bridge Farm Stand in Oley. That’s where they sell bags of their flour amongst locally raised produce, sourdough bread, and the decadent Old World cheeses crafted by Stefanie Angstadt of Valley Milkhouse. Both the farmstand and Valley Milkhouse are located on one of the oldest farms in Oley, the Yoder-Cleaver homestead, which Tom’s family was integral in breathing life back into. As Sam and Tom led me past a sea of the little white buckwheat flowers, we discussed their plan to grow even more spelt and their excitement for next season. We loaded my car with bags of flour and whole spelt berries, destined for future sourdough experiments.

Before I left, I ran into the creamery to ask Brie Best, cheesemaker and wholesale manager at Valley Milkhouse, for a cheese suggestion. Brie graciously showed me their newly built cheese cave, which housed an aromatic array of cheeses in various stages of aging. The smell was expressive of the changing weather outside. She talked about the process of washing the large wheels of Lady’s Slipper with locally made hard cider. I knew immediately that was the cheese to pair with a spelt berry and apple salad for dinner.

So, with a loaf of bread in hand, a block of cheese, and a Subaru weighed down by 100 pounds of spelt grain, I drove the winding roads back home feeling pretty good about the future of our local grain culture and farming community. And fully aware of the very large task that waited for me ahead: how to build a microbakery that feeds into this important aspect of our foodways.