Fancy a slappy? It’s not what you think – unless you’re from Wigan, in which case you’ll know exactly what I’m offering. A slappy, otherwise known as a ‘Wigan Kebab’, is a whole pie served inside a sliced barm cake (not cake, but a soft, sweetish bread roll). Wiganers are known as ‘pie eaters’. I don’t mind a slice of mince and onion or chicken and leek every now and again, preferably in winter – but I certainly couldn’t imagine indulging on a regular basis.
But if I am to eat pie, it should be in Wigan. Don’t get me wrong, there is absolutely no way I would travel to Wigan especially, because – and I mean no offence to its inhabitants – there isn’t an awful lot else going for it. I can say this because I’m from Darlington. Not only that, but the trains between London and the north-west are probably some of the worst in the country. On this occasion, it so happened I was heading in that direction for work, so I thought I’d make the most of my trip.
I had two opportunities for tasting: the evening I arrived, and then I thought I’d take some baked goods back to London with me the following evening. This would avoid having to scrape together a meal from the train buffet – which, by the time I get round to it, usually offers only a slice of fruit cake.
Wigan boasts an institution known as Galloways, where, for under £4, I ordered an individual minced beef and onion pie with mushy peas and gravy. I managed about a third of it, but it was out of this world – and cheaper than a Pret sandwich.
Another option is the Muffin Man, a very traditional family bakery, where you can order a slice of pie much as you might with pizza in an Italian piazza. The most famous item on the menu is the meat and potato, but the steak slice definitely gets one over on the offering from Greggs.
I got talking to the locals and discovered that Wigan is also home to the annual World Pie Eating Championship, which has been held since 1992. Back in 2006, after what was described as ‘relentless pressure’ from the Vegetarian Society, they added a meat-free version. Why there had to be such a fuss is a mystery, when cheese and onion pies have long been popular in Wigan as elsewhere. Just don’t ask me to imagine a vegan version – good pastry needs lard or butter.
As traditional and old-school as Wigan pies are, some are showing signs of moving with the times. Just reading the descriptions of Baldy’s Dark Kitchen pies was enough to make me ravenous. One that caught my eye was a Cheddar Butter Pie (sliced Maris Piper and white onion cooked in vegetable stock, Café de Paris butter béchamel, aged cheddar and cheddar crumb). Another was Butcher Farrell’s Big Jim, with its 24-hour roasted and braised short rib, bone marrow, smoked Maldon salt, confit garlic, rosemary and thyme, ink peppercorn reduction, beef fat potatoes and pistachio crumb.
A slappy, otherwise known as a ‘Wigan Kebab’, is a whole pie served inside a sliced barm cake
The dish of pride from the north-east of England, where most of my family still reside, is the parmo. Whenever I attempt to articulate the extent of my disgust at this ‘delicacy’, words fail me. It consists of a breaded chicken breast, topped with béchamel sauce and cheddar cheese (note: not the parmesan of the original recipe). It was created in the 1950s by a Greek-American chef who opened a restaurant in Middlesbrough. I have no idea what he was thinking, but there is nothing of the Mediterranean about it. In 2018, one MasterChef contestant prepared a parmo, and the following year, 30 restaurants competed in the World Parmo Championships at Middlesbrough Town Hall.
Given a choice between the parmo and a Wigan pie, the pie would be a clear winner for me. Not every day, or week, or even month – but maybe as a special treat, or to deal with an occasional vicious hangover. There are dozens of pie shops in Wigan, with new ones opening up all the time to serve the town’s 108,000-strong population.
In search of a small pork pie for my train journey home, I came across a delicious-looking batch in Whittles, near the station. The best pork pies are supposedly from Melton Mowbray in Leicestershire, but I certainly have never tasted one as good as the one that accompanied me on my trip home – washed down with a warm tin of pre-mixed gin and tonic. Train buffet fruit cake couldn’t hold a candle to it.
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