There is something deeply wrong with most of the bread on your table today. For thousands of years, bread was called the staff of life. It built civilizations, fed armies, sustained families through brutal winters. But today, that same word “bread” often describes something that inflames your gut, spikes your blood sugar, and leaves you hungry an hour later.

In 1324, in a village outside York, England, the average peasant consumed 2 to 3 pounds of bread every single day. It was 70% of their total calories. These were hardworking men and women hauling stones, plowing fields, building cathedrals that still stand today. And they thrived on it. No diabetes epidemic, no gluten sensitivity crisis, no inflammatory bowel disease affecting one in every hundred people.

Fast forward to today: one in three adults is pre-diabetic. Celiac disease has increased by 400% since the 1950s. Millions more suffer from what doctors vaguely call non-celiac gluten sensitivity—bloating, brain fog, joint pain, chronic fatigue. Your grandfather ate bread his whole life without a problem. So, what changed?

The answer isn’t that you’re weak or that your gut is defective. The answer is that most modern bread is not bread. It’s an industrialized food product designed for profit, not nutrition. And the medieval peasant you’ve been taught to pity? He knew something about wheat and bread making that the modern food industry desperately wants you to forget.

My organic sourdough bread cottage bakery exists for exactly this reason: to take what we’ve learned from history and from modern science and bring real bread back to your table—using certified organic King Arthur flours (Organic White, Whole Wheat, and Rye), long natural fermentation, and simple ingredients that your body recognizes as food.

Section One: The Modern Failure – Bread That Isn’t Bread

Pick up a typical supermarket loaf and read the ingredients. Enriched wheat flour—code for wheat that’s been stripped of everything valuable, then injected with synthetic vitamins to meet legal minimums. High fructose corn syrup, soybean oil, mono and diglycerides, calcium propionate, azodicarbonamide, a chemical also used in yoga mats and shoe rubber. This isn’t bread. It’s a science experiment.

Traditional bread had three ingredients: flour, water, salt. Sometimes a bit of leaven or yeast. That’s it. But modern industrial bread often needs 20 to 30 ingredients just to stay soft for two weeks on a shelf. And that’s just the beginning.

The wheat itself is often fundamentally different. In 1960, a scientist named Norman Borlaug developed what he called miracle wheat: shorter stalks, higher yields, resistant to disease. He won the Nobel Prize for it. The Green Revolution, they called it. It fed millions. But there was a cost no one talked about.

This new wheat, technically called semi-dwarf wheat, was bred for one thing: maximum yield per acre. Not nutrition. Not digestibility. Yield. To achieve that, plant breeders introduced genetic changes that altered the gluten structure, increased the starch content, and ramped up compounds called lectins and phytates that interfere with nutrient absorption.

Ancient wheat varieties like Einkorn had 14 chromosomes. Emmer wheat had 28. Modern bread wheat has 42. That genetic complexity came with a tradeoff. Modern wheat contains gluten proteins that your great-grandfather’s gut never encountered. The gliadin fraction, the part responsible for most gluten reactions, is structurally different. Some studies have found that modern wheat can trigger higher immune responses than heritage varieties. Your body may recognize it as a foreign invader and respond with inflammation—not because you’re sensitive, but because the wheat has been engineered into something your digestive system doesn’t recognize as food.

Then there’s the milling. Traditional flour was stone ground, a slow process that kept the wheat kernel intact: the bran, the germ, the endosperm, all ground together. That meant fiber, healthy fats, B vitamins, minerals like magnesium and zinc—all still present.

Modern roller milling, introduced in the 1870s, often strips much of that away. It removes the bran and the germ because they contain oils that go rancid, shortening shelf life. What’s left is mostly white endosperm, basically starch, and a damaged protein structure. Then it can be bleached with chemicals like chlorine gas or benzoyl peroxide to make it whiter. This is what’s sold as enriched flour—enriched because they have to add back a fraction of the nutrients they destroyed.

But here’s where it gets worse. Traditional bread was slow. After mixing flour and water, bakers let the dough rest and ferment for 12 to 24 hours, sometimes longer. This wasn’t laziness; it was necessity. During that fermentation, natural yeast and bacteria broke down the starches and proteins. They predigested the bread for you. The gluten became easier to process. Phytic acid, which binds to minerals and blocks absorption, was neutralized. Lectins, which can damage the gut lining, were reduced. By the time that bread went into the oven, it was fundamentally transformed.

Your modern supermarket loaf is often mixed, risen, and baked in under three hours. Minimal fermentation, minimal breakdown of anti-nutrients, minimal predigestion—just relatively raw, reactive proteins hitting your gut at full strength. The result is a food that looks like bread, smells like bread, but behaves in your body like pure sugar.

The glycemic index of white bread is about 75, higher than table sugar at about 65. That means it can spike your blood glucose faster than a candy bar. Your pancreas dumps insulin to handle the flood. Your blood sugar crashes. You feel hungry again an hour later. Over years, this cycle can lead to insulin resistance, the root cause of type 2 diabetes.

Traditional bread, with its intact fiber and slow fermentation, had a much lower glycemic response. It released energy slowly. It kept you full. It didn’t trigger the hormonal chaos that modern ultra-fast bread does every single time you eat it.

At my bakery, I go back to that older logic: organic flour, water, salt, and a living sourdough culture—fermented slowly, never rushed, and baked fresh.

Section Two: The Investigation – Clues from the Medieval Field

To understand why earlier wheat and bread were different, we must go back to the fields. Medieval farmers grew what we now call landrace varieties. These were wheat strains adapted over centuries to local soil, local climate, local conditions.

Einkorn, the oldest cultivated wheat dating back 10,000 years. Emmer, used by the Egyptians to build the pyramids. Spelt, favored in medieval Germany and Switzerland. These weren’t uniform. In a single field, you’d see variation—some stalks taller, some shorter, some ripening earlier, some later. That diversity was insurance. If disease hit, some plants survived. If drought came, some adapted. It wasn’t efficient by modern standards. But it was resilient, and it was digestible.

Einkorn, for example, contains 14 chromosomes, the simplest genetic structure of any wheat. Its gluten is weak, which means it doesn’t rise as dramatically as modern bread, but that weak gluten is exactly what makes it easier to digest. Studies have found that some people with non-celiac gluten sensitivity can tolerate Einkorn bread better than bread from modern wheat. The gliadin proteins are structured differently. The immune system reacts less. And the nutritional profile is superior.

Einkorn has more protein than typical modern wheat, more beta carotene, and higher levels of lutein, an antioxidant that protects your eyes and brain.

Then there’s how they milled it. Traditional mills were powered by water or wind, turning massive stones that ground the grain slowly. This process generated very little heat, preserving the delicate oils in the wheat germ. Those oils contain vitamin E, omega-3 fatty acids, and phytosterols that support heart health.

Modern roller mills operate at high speed and higher temperatures. They can destroy those oils almost immediately if the germ is left in. What’s worse, the steel rollers create a very fine, almost powdery flour that your body absorbs too quickly, causing blood sugar spikes. Stone-ground flour stays coarser. It takes longer to digest. It provides sustained energy instead of a brief surge followed by a crash.

But the real secret was fermentation. Traditional bakers didn’t have commercial yeast. They used wild yeast and lactic acid bacteria captured from the air—what we now call sourdough culture. This culture was kept alive for generations, passed from mother to daughter, baker to apprentice.

When mixed with flour and water, the bacteria went to work. They consumed the sugars in the dough, producing lactic acid and acetic acid. This acidic environment activated enzymes that broke down phytic acid, the compound that binds to minerals like iron, zinc, and calcium, preventing absorption. It also broke down lectins and enzyme inhibitors that can irritate the gut lining. By the time the bread was baked, it was nutritionally transformed.

A medieval peasant eating two pounds of this bread a day wasn’t just filling his stomach. He was getting complete nutrition: protein from the wheat germ, healthy fats from the oils, B vitamins for energy, minerals made bioavailable through fermentation, fiber to keep his gut healthy—and all of it delivered in a form his body could process without triggering the same kind of inflammation modern industrial bread often does.

That same logic is what drives my baking: certified organic wheat and rye from King Arthur, milled to a consistent standard, then transformed through long sourdough fermentation into bread that aims to nourish rather than punish your body.

Section Three: The Chemistry – What Changed and Why?

Let’s talk about gluten, because this is where the modern wheat disaster really begins. Gluten isn’t one thing. It’s a family of proteins, mainly glutenin and gliadin. These proteins give dough its elasticity and help bread rise.

In ancient wheat like Einkorn, the gluten structure is simple and weak. In modern wheat, it’s more complex and stronger. That strength is why modern bread can rise so high and stay soft so long. But it’s also why your gut can struggle to break it down.

Research has identified modern wheat gliadin proteins that are more resistant to digestive enzymes than those in some ancient varieties. They can pass through your stomach and small intestine largely intact, triggering immune responses in susceptible individuals.

Then there’s the chemical load in conventional agriculture. Much modern wheat is routinely treated with herbicides, fungicides, and insecticides throughout its growing cycle. In some systems, pre-harvest desiccation—spraying fields with glyphosate, the active ingredient in Roundup, shortly before harvest—is used to dry the crop rapidly and evenly.

Residues from these practices can end up in non-organic wheat products. Glyphosate has been classified as a probable human carcinogen by the World Health Organization. It also appears to disrupt the gut microbiome, harming beneficial bacteria that help you digest food and regulate your immune system.

Traditional wheat never saw a single synthetic chemical. It was grown in soil enriched with manure and crop rotation. Harvested by hand. Stored in dry barns. Clean.

This is why I insist on certified organic King Arthur flours—Organic White, Organic Whole Wheat, and Organic Rye. Organic standards prohibit the use of synthetic herbicides like glyphosate and require farming systems built around soil health and ecological balance. That doesn’t magically turn modern wheat into an ancient variety, but it does remove a major layer of chemical stress from your bread.

Nutritionally, older wheat varieties often contain more protein and a richer spectrum of micronutrients than modern high-yield strains. But even with modern wheat, if you keep the bran and germ, avoid bleaching and over-processing, choose organic, and then give the dough a long, slow sourdough fermentation, you can reclaim a surprising amount of what was lost. That’s the path I follow in my bakery.

Section Four: The Proof – Studies and Testimonials

In 2014, researchers in Italy conducted a fascinating experiment. They took a group of people with irritable bowel syndrome, all of whom reported severe symptoms after eating modern bread. They switched them to bread made from ancient Einkorn wheat using traditional stone milling and long fermentation.

The results: most participants reported significant improvement in symptoms—less bloating, less pain, better digestion. The wheat itself, in its older form and with careful processing, changed the outcome.

Another study from the University of Florence found that Einkorn bread produced lower blood glucose and insulin responses compared to modern bread, even when consumed in identical amounts.

And today there’s a quiet resurgence. Small-scale farmers and bakers across Europe and North America are reviving heritage wheat, stone-milling flour, and fermenting dough for 24 hours or more. Their customers, many of whom thought they could never eat bread again, are discovering they can—not because gluten was never the problem, but because modern wheat breeding, chemical-intensive agriculture, rapid processing, and ultra-fast yeasts created a problem that didn’t exist 100 years ago.

These bakers aren’t selling nostalgia. They’re selling bread that your body recognizes as food.

My bakery belongs to that same movement, even when I’m not using strictly “ancient” grains. By combining certified organic King Arthur flours with wild sourdough culture, long fermentations, and simple ingredient lists, I’m aiming for bread that tastes deeply satisfying and is far gentler on your system than the average supermarket loaf. I hear it in customer feedback: “I can eat your bread even when other bread bothers me.” That’s not magic. It’s process.

Section Five: The Modern Disconnect – Why We Abandoned What Worked

The shift happened after World War II. Industrialization swept through agriculture and baking. The goal was clear: feed a booming population cheaply and efficiently. Hybrid wheat varieties that produced three times the yield became the standard. Chemical fertilizers replaced manure and crop rotation. Pesticides and herbicides eliminated the need for manual weeding. Roller mills processed grain faster and cheaper than stone mills. And commercial yeast replaced slow sourdough fermentation, cutting production time from 24 hours to two.

It worked—if your only metric is cost and convenience. Bread became cheaper and more available than ever in human history. But the cost was hidden. The cost was your health.

Since 1960, type 2 diabetes rates have soared. Obesity rates have tripled. Autoimmune diseases like celiac, Crohn’s, and ulcerative colitis have exploded. The industrial food system will tell you this is because we’re sedentary, because we eat too much, because we lack willpower. But the timeline doesn’t lie. These diseases began their exponential rise precisely when industrial wheat and industrial bread became the norm.

Medieval peasants worked hard physically, yes, but they also ate bread as their staple. And they didn’t suffer from the same metabolic disease or autoimmune epidemics that now plague us. The difference wasn’t just activity. It was the food.

The food industry optimized bread for shelf life, not for health—for profit margins, not for nutrition. They removed everything that made it valuable and replaced it with chemicals to mimic freshness. They bred wheat for yield, not for compatibility with the human digestive system. And when people started getting sick, the industry blamed the victims. You’re gluten intolerant. You’re sensitive. You have a disorder.

No. In many cases, you’re reacting normally to an abnormal food. Traditional bread didn’t need a warning label. It didn’t come with a list of side effects. It was food. What’s on many supermarket shelves today is a product, and your body knows the difference.

My response is simple: step away from the industrial model. Use organic flour grown without synthetic chemicals. Respect the grain. Respect the fermentation. Bake bread for people, not for shelf life. That is the entire philosophy behind my organic sourdough bread cottage bakery.

Section Six: Practical Application – How to Eat Bread Again

If you want to eat bread that doesn’t fight your body, you have three options. The easiest—if you live within reach of my kitchen—is to let my organic sourdough bread cottage bakery do the work for you.

Every loaf I sell is based on a few non-negotiables:

• Certified organic King Arthur flours – Organic White, Whole Wheat, and Rye, chosen for their consistency, flavor, and organic integrity.
• Simple ingredients – Flour, water, salt, and sourdough culture. No conditioners, no preservatives, no industrial additives.
• Long fermentation – Doughs are mixed and then allowed to ferment slowly, often overnight or longer, so the natural yeast and bacteria can break down starches and gluten, reduce phytic acid, and develop deep flavor.
• Whole grain presence – Organic whole wheat and rye add fiber, minerals, and complexity that pure white flour simply can’t match.

If you’re not local or you love baking yourself, you still have three paths:

1. Support bakers who do it right. Seek out bakeries that use organic flour, long sourdough fermentation, and minimal ingredients—ideally noting their use of high-quality flours such as King Arthur Organic White, Whole Wheat, and Rye. Ask how long they ferment their doughs. Ask if they use sourdough culture rather than relying entirely on commercial yeast. Good bakers will be proud to tell you.
2. Buy organic flour and make your own sourdough. You don’t have to track down every heritage variety to make a huge difference. Start with certified organic flours—King Arthur Organic White for structure, Organic Whole Wheat and Organic Rye for nutrition and flavor. Maintain a starter culture, mix dough the night before, and let it ferment 12 to 24 hours. The result is bread that nourishes instead of harms. Once you develop the routine, it’s no harder than weekly meal prep.
3. Be intentional about how much bread you eat and what you replace it with. Bread doesn’t have to disappear from your life, but it should earn its place. Choose consciously fermented, organic sourdough for the slices you do eat. And when you’re not eating bread, lean on other whole, minimally processed foods—oats, beans, vegetables, properly prepared grains—rather than ultra-processed snacks.

The point isn’t to live like a medieval peasant. The point is to recognize that their bread was real food and that you can bring that logic forward—with modern tools, organic King Arthur flour, and a living sourdough culture—into a loaf that belongs on your table today.

Conclusion: What We Lost and How My Bakery Helps You Get It Back

The medieval peasant with his dark, dense loaf of sourdough wasn’t ignorant. He was working with a system perfected over thousands of years—a system that prioritized nutrition, digestibility, and sustainability. We traded that system for convenience and profit. We bred wheat that yields more but often nourishes less. We milled it in ways that can destroy its vitality. We rushed fermentation to save time. We added chemicals to extend shelf life. And now we wonder why bread, the staff of life for millennia, has become a source of discomfort and disease.

The answer is simple. In many places, we stopped making bread. We started manufacturing a product that looks like bread but behaves in the body like junk.

Traditional bread wasn’t a superfood because it had magical properties. It was a superfood because it was left closer to its natural form, grown in healthy soil, milled with care, fermented with patience, baked with respect for the process. That’s the knowledge the industrial food system doesn’t want you to have. Because if you understand that the problem isn’t wheat itself, but how we grow it, process it, and rush it, you stop buying their products. You start demanding real food. You take control of your health.

That’s where my organic sourdough bread cottage bakery comes in.

I start with certified organic King Arthur flours—Organic White, Whole Wheat, and Rye—so the grain itself is grown without synthetic chemicals like glyphosate. I keep the ingredient list short and honest. I give the dough time to ferment naturally. I bake in small batches, for real people, not for warehouses.

You don’t have to become a historian, a chemist, or a farmer to eat good bread again. You just need to choose differently.

Traditional bread was food. Much of what lines supermarket shelves today is a chemical experiment. The choice is yours. Every time you choose a loaf of long-fermented, organic sourdough—whether from my oven or your own—you reclaim a piece of that ancient knowledge, adapted to modern life. Knowledge that kept people healthy when life was hard. Knowledge that still works today, if we’re willing to listen—and to bake—accordingly.

I welcome your thoughts - Tim@BowBread.com