Top Stotty


Sometimes, especially when I’m sad, or just find myself in a bit of a cooking rut, I realise that what I need is a taste of home. And growing up in the North East, in Newcastle and South Shields, that taste of home is the stotty bread.  So I have  spent the last week making stotties, and it has been glorious.

Previously, when I found myself mindlessly eating the same soup for multiple meals in a row, or relying on branflakes to sustain me for days on end, I would recreate my grandmother’s sultana scones (and realise guiltily that I prefer Ruby Tandoh’s), or make my mum’s minestrone. Anything that brought the smells and flavours of my childhood home into my grown up kitchen. What I haven’t been able to do, until now, is make a decent stotty.

(You can’t, to my knowledge, get hold of stotties in London. I’ve developed an unintentional tradition of, usually in an overly-emotional hungover fog, buying a ham and pease pudding stottie from the Greggs outside Newcastle central station just before I catch a train down to London, like a culinary farewell.)


My mum would serve them with bacon and mushrooms and lots of ketchup on Saturday lunchtimes, but my grandma’s were proper South Shields fare: stuffed with pease pudding and breaded ham. This is how we had them on Sunday evening and I think a stottie and some tinned pease pudding is as close as I will come to a Proustian epiphany.

For the uninitiated, first of all, I’m so sorry, you have unquestionably been missing out for however many years you’ve spent stotty-less. Secondly, a stotty bread or stotty cake (also spelt ‘stottie’) is a fairly normal bread dough, with a short prove, which is then cooked for quite a long time at quite a low temperature. It’s docked (pricked and dented)  so it doesn’t puff up in the oven, but instead is soft on the outside, and chewy in the middle, like a firm, oversized bap. It should be cut in half and used for sandwiches, and if you haven’t had one with a fried egg in, you haven’t lived. For me, they are the platonic sandwich.


The word comes from the Geordie ‘to stot’, which means ’to bounce’. I like to interpret this as having a spring to the soft outside, but I think the reality is that they were able to stot off the floor, which is satisfying etymologically, but not hugely appetising. The history of the stottie is this: scraps of old white dough, left over from the day’s baking, were thrown together into large discs and left in the bottom of a cooling oven. They were a practical solution to a kitchen problem, a cheap, fuel-saving waste-not-want-not answer.

I think, perhaps the stotties of my childhood were treated a little more gently. They were softer, almost milkier; a product that took pride of place in bakery windows, and only touched the ground if given to a clumsy bairn.

So maybe they aren’t authentic in the sense that they’re not made with old dough, and I don’t have an Aga or a wood burning stove, which means I have to manufacture the conditions that led older cooks to bake this bread. But that’s OK. We don’t bake in the same way we used to, and our ovens are a little more advanced. And they’re authentic to my experience of stotties. The chewiness and softness of stotties can be heroically replicated in a modern domestic oven,  just by preheating to a high temperature, and then turning it off once the stottie has had a few minutes in there, leaving it in place for an hour until firm but still soft.

If you’re homesick for the North and long for a stottie, this will not only do the job but make you question why you don’t eat stotties every day of your life.


I did quite a lot of research before I began baking and developing this recipe, and I have some sad news: some of the recipes online don’t work. The methods don’t match up with the instructions, or the ingredient ratios contain typos (as I discovered by baking a recipe which resulted in sloppy, shapeless dough, producing breads that were inexplicably both flaccid and cardboard-like, only to find another version of the recipe, identical but for a significantly larger quantity of bread flour). I used as a starting point for mine a combination of this ingredient list and this method. I’ve upped the liquid ratio, because it makes the bread softer and chewier. My recipe also uses both lard and milk, and more sugar than most, which I found gave a greater depth of flavour, and a very slight sweetness, but the recipe works perfectly well leaving substituting the milk for water or the lard for butter (or leaving it out completely). Don’t skimp on the salt: bread needs salt. That bit is non-negotiable.


It goes like this:

Top Stottie

Makes: 2 large stotty cakes
Takes: 1 hour 10 minutes
Bakes: 1 hour 15 minutes

500g strong plain white flour
2 tsp salt
50g lard
8g fast acting dried yeast
1 tablespoon sugar
180ml warm water
150ml milk

1. Mix the dry ingredients (flour, salt, sugar and dried yeast) together in a large bowl, and rub the lard into the mix. It may start to resemble bread crumbs, or the lard may just disappear into the flour; the goal is to incorporate it fully, so there are no lardy lumps. Stir in the milk and warm water. Stir together with your hand until it comes into a ball; the dough will be pretty sticky at this point.

2. Tip the dough onto a well-floured work surface. Knead it for ten minutes: time yourself. Push the dough away from you with heel of your hand, then pull it back towards you, stretching and returning, stretching and returning. It will transform over the ten minutes, into pliable, elastic, soft dough that is smooth, and no longer sticky.

3. Leave to prove in a warm place for an hour, or until doubled in size.

4. Preheat your oven to 200°C. Remove the dough from the bowl and tip it onto a floured surface. Knock the air out of it with a couple of well-aimed punches.

5. Divide the dough into two equal portions. Roll out with a floured rolling pin into a rough circle, about the size of a small dinner plate or frisbee (the dough will be very elastic and spring back; persevere).

6. Line a baking sheet with baking paper or a silicone mat, and then flour the baking paper. Transfer each cake onto its own lined tray.

5. Using your thumb, stab a deep indentation in the centre of each cake. Prick each cake about ten times with a fork.

5. Bake at that temperature for 15 minutes, then turn the oven off, and leave for one hour, before removing from the oven. You may need to wait for the stotties to cool a little bit before you can lift them easily from the baking paper.

6. Ta Dah!


Icing on the Cake

Although we ate these with pease pudding and ham, they’re really the perfect vehicle for any sandwich. I’m a bit of a glutton and even I think that you can get four decent sandwiches out of one. We ate them with big mugs of tea, on an early Sunday evening. I think my grandma would approve. I also had it the following night, toasted with butter and marmite and soft boiled eggs. I’ve rarely had a more satisfying supper.

Eat these next...


  1. I really like your posts and I don’t even cook but should this recipe not say what happens to the yeast ?

    1. Hi Deidre! Thank you for your kind comment. The yeast I used (and most easily available) is dried so was included in the first instruction to mix the dried ingredients but I’ve rephrased to make that clearer! Hope it makes more sense now! Lx

  2. Thank you – that makes perfect sense and congratulations on the Le Cordon Bleu thing. Good luck with that.

  3. Hello Livvy, I found your recipe by chance a few weeks ago and, in stereotypical northern male fashion, I got the wife to try it (she likes baking, honest!)

    And the result? Your Top Stotty recipe produces something which is deeply satisfying to me (and better than anything I’ve had recently from the Greggs opposite the Central station)!

    Thanks from one exiled Geordie to another.

    PS – have you got a good recipe for pease puddin’?

  4. I hadn’t been to the Newcastle area until recently. It’s a different country. Happier. Open energy of the people. I was in some Greggs and asked a woman in the queue “what’s that?”, “That’s a Stottie pet”, What do you do with them?””Slice them in two and make a sandwich” “that’s a pretty big sandwich” ” You don’t have to eat it all at once like”.
    I’m a believer. Like eating cloud. Great with soup.Thanks for the heads up. Really surprised it took me half a century to go to Newcastle and then find them secretly eating wonderful comfort foods all by themselves.

    1. Pease pudding is very easy to make. Easier if you have a pressure cooker. I have an electric one. I chop half an onion, some smoked bacon or ham and about 250g yellow split peas. I use approx 500ml water, some salt and pepper and set the cooker to 40 mins. Once cooked, thoroughly stir and place in a dish or bowl to cool and set. Cover with tinfoil or you end up with a skin on top.

  5. This looks amazing and I am about to try this recipe. Unfortunately, at this time of lockdown I have no lard so will be trying it with butter.
    I can across your blog looking for a stottie recipe, so glad to have found it at this time 🙂

  6. It’s nearly 50 years since I was a student at South Shields Marine & Technical College. My friend and I used to share a stottie for lunch (how did I manage to eat so much?) Can’t get anything like a stottie down here in the South West so I tried to make my own. Another online recipe gave me something very chewy like 2 bits of cardboard so hunted around and found this site, where the pictures looked like what I remembered eating. I halved the recipe to make one stottie and, purely because most other sites suggest it, added about 1/8 tsp of white pepper too. Came out marvelous, just like I remember – thank you so much, Livvy!

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