Cherry Spelt Galette is my favorite kind of dessert: the sort that doesn’t ask for perfection, only a little attention. The dough is rolled out in whatever shape it wants to be. The fruit goes in like a small, bright heap. The edges fold up and over, as if to keep the good part from escaping.
Spelt flour makes the crust taste a little toasted and nutty, and it bakes into something sturdy at the rim and tender underneath. In the middle, the cherries go soft and glossy, their juices turning darker as the heat concentrates them into a jammy puddle. It’s messy in the best way—the kind of mess that proves you were here, that you made something real.
This is a weekend bake, meant for slow mornings or late afternoons when the kitchen feels like the warmest room in the house. If you can, let the galette cool just enough to set, then slice it while it’s still faintly warm. The crust will crackle. The fruit will hold, mostly.
Serve it plain, or with a spoonful of yogurt or cream if you like. Either way, it’s simple and generous: a rustic circle of spelt crust holding cherries in place, asking only that you sit down for a minute and eat.
