On a frosty December morning, I set out to do what would become the impossible: find Eccles cakes in Eccles. It was a simple task, yet I found myself immersed in food blogs, derelict alleyways, and long conversations with locals who were fed up.
I took the tram down to the heart of Eccles, images of market days and greasy-spoon cafes with my Nan flooding my memory.
I wanted to discover the pre-existing irony of buying an Eccles cake in Eccles. Yet, complete stillness in what was the heart and soul of this town. An alarming number of shopfronts were boarded up by iron shutters and scrap plywood.
I had visions of the air being filled with the scent of sweet pastry and an array of independent bakeries serving up this stodgy heaven. Naively, I was wrong.
The Eccles cake is a small and round pastry, filled with jammy-like currants. The pastry is flaky and the filling is rich and uber-sweet.
They were first commercially sold in 1793 on what is now Church Street, Eccles. They aren’t protected by geographical status, meaning anyone can produce them and sell them as ‘Eccles cakes’.
There was once a rivalry with the Monton Tart – which seems counterproductive given that Monton is within Eccles.
Outside one of the only remaining cafes in the town centre, a group of friends told me how there are no longer any bakeries that sell the flaky delights in the town centre.
Ashley, a mum from Eccles, explained, “You just can’t get them anymore, the town has completely changed.” In the smoking area of a pub, I was told the pandemic was a turning point.
I started to grasp from the locals that things have changed, and they are not happy about it.
The only place you can buy Eccles cakes in Eccles is Morrisons. Albert Street Bakery produces them, despite supplying to a cafe in Monton, they don’t have a shopfront.
I settled for the corporate circus. Still Sellotaped in a box and as low as my ankles, the famous Eccles cakes sat perched on the bottom shelf.
Once exported globally and loved by all, I almost felt sorry for them.
Years prior, we had seen Eccles cakes in a Cumbrian supermarket during a family holiday. The yellow-lined plastic packaging and brown letters spelling Lancashire – like a postcard from home.
In 2013, Elizabeth Charnley was interviewed on television about Eccles Cakes. The next day, she would enter ‘The Great Eccles Cake Off’, securing first place for her efforts.
Elizabeth’s secret? Rum. “Mix sugar, spices, and rum together and let it soak, ideally overnight.’ She said. The pastry is a simple pastry recipe that Elizabeth was taught in school.
Her aunt had made Eccles cakes for Redman’s, a department store on Hope Street, Eccles.
‘In the competition we did this thing where you had to take a picture of yourself eating an Eccles cake as far away from the town as possible,’ she said, ‘So our friends from Chicago sent in a picture at their local bakery – where they actually sell Eccles cakes.’
All my efforts pestering the locals of Eccles town centre, when I could have been saved by a one-way ticket to Chicago, Illinois.
She reminisced about a three-tier Eccles cake wedding cake she once made, and how an Eccles cake factory hired out their function room to wedding parties.
That’s not the only strange thing about the cake that almost took over the world. Writer Lois Elsden noted how Merseyside Fire and Rescue received three call-outs after Eccles cakes were microwaved and subsequently set alight.
This was due to the sugar sprinkled on top getting too hot in the microwave. A public safety warning was issued. The warning label on the back of the packet started to make a lot of sense.
At £2.40 per pack, I brought some back for my colleagues in the Salford Now newsroom. It was a mixed bag of reviews, although some enjoyed that flaky, sweet goodness more than they would have imagined.
If the cake elicits happy sighs and smiles amongst the very people of its origin, why aren’t they still sold by independent high street bakers?
“Aldi sells them, using a different bakery to the Lancashire Eccles cakes that Morrisons sell,” Elizabeth reassured me, “But I don’t buy them – that way it stays a treat and not just everyday food when I make them.”
Within the area of Morrisons and the surrounding streets, government data suggests that this cluster of streets is more deprived than most neighbourhoods in England.
Most of the people I spoke to in Eccles were more frustrated with their lack of shops, cafes, and community – the hustle and bustle of this town now a distant memory.
But, despite this, there always seemed to be a moment of reflection and a growing smile when asked about their town’s world-famous delicacy – the Eccles cake.
“We still bang the drum for them,” Elizabeth said.
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