Industry holidays in Britain, known as ‘Wakes Weeks’ in parts of Northern England, were one week in the year during the latter part of the Industrial Revolution when whole mills and factories would down tools and its employees would flock to the seaside and other resorts for a week of well deserved vacation. And flock is an understatement, with literally millions of people descending on seaside resorts such as Blackpool and Llandudno. Trains had to be chartered especially to accommodate the summer madness. The term ‘Wakes Week’ was probably coined from religious celebrations held a few centuries earlier but was adopted by this summertime coastal migration. Wakes (also known as Fairs in many parts) still take place to this day. Indeed, my own town in Scotland had its annual Fair last month, although this has been trimmed down from a week’s holiday to just a single day, shame! Even so, the extent to which the town closes down is simply astonishing. Not a car on the road, not a person in the street.

Hindle Wakes is a dish from Lancashire eaten to celebrate this holiday. A whole chicken is stuffed with black pudding, prunes, bacon and other goodies before being braised, then roasted and served with a creamy lemon sauce. Its origin is accredited to 16th century Flemish immigrants but its name is a little more uncertain. I did see a couple of naughty websites describing it as being, “A dish eaten in Hindle, Lancashire during the annual Wakes.” No gold stars I’m afraid. Hindle is a fictional town dreamt up by playwright Stanley Houghton in his 1912 play which shares its name with (or possibly lends its name to) this dish. One credible explanation is that it derives from, ‘Hen de la Wakes,’ owing to its Flemish origins, but I favour that the dish simply adopted its name from Houghton’s play as there seems to be no documentary evidence that this name existed before his controversial tale of scandal and tragedy took to the stage.

Traditionally, Hindle Wakes would be served as a whole poached and roasted bird, liberally stuffed, smeared head-to-toe with sauce and served as a centrepiece. However, I’ve pulled it apart somewhat and used only the legs of my chuck, quite simply because I have other plans for the breasts and carcass, but using a good slug of my chicken stock in the stuffing to preserve its integrity. It’s quite an alien palate of flavours; chicken, prunes and lemon are a combination that time has forgotten and undoubtedly this does smack of history. But are the flavours wrong? Well, no, and it was quite a pleasure to taste something a little out of, what we might call, the ordinary. Here’s how it goes…

• Hindle Wakes to serve 2 persons (comfortably)
• 2 whole chicken legs
• 1 litre chicken stock
• Stock vegetables; celery, carrot, onion & a bouquet garni

Bring the stock to the boil, with the stock veggies and simmer for 15 minutes. Add the chicken legs and simmer for a further 20 minutes before removing the chicken, straining and retaining the stock. Set aside and then make the stuffing.

• For the stuffing
• 250g black pudding
• ½ a medium onion
• 100g prunes (stoned)
• 2 rashers of back bacon
• 75g breadcrumbs
• ½ cup of the stock used to poach the chicken

Very finely chop the onion, but chop the other ingredients coarsely. Mix together thoroughly with the ½ cup of stock and season well, transfer to a baking dish and cover with tin foil. Place the poached chicken legs on a separate baking tray and transfer these, and the stuffing, to a preheated oven at  200°C for 30 minutes. While these bake, make the lemon sauce.

• For the lemon sauce
• 20g butter
• 20g plain flour (AP)
• ½ tsp English mustard powder
• 50ml of the stock used to poach the chicken
• 100ml double cream
• 60ml milk
• ½ lemon, juice and zest

Whisk the butter, flour and mustard powder in a saucepan on a medium heat to make a roux, cook this for a minute or two before mixing in the chicken stock followed by the milk and cream. Very finely chop the lemon zest and add this to the sauce along with the lemon juice. Season and simmer the sauce for a good 15/20 minutes, letting it down with more stock if it becomes too thick.

Plate up and enjoy a taste of a bygone Lancashire.

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