Every prairie homestead had its bread day. Flour came from the local mill, yeast was saved from the last batch, and the whole week’s bread was baked at once in a hot wood stove. The smell of fresh bread baking is woven into prairie memory — it meant home, warmth, and a table about to be filled.
This is that loaf: a simple white bread with a golden, tender crust and a soft, pillowy crumb. It takes time — the rising cannot be rushed — but the reward is a warm loaf that fills the whole house with its smell. Slice it thick, slather it with butter, and you will understand why this bread built a region.

