Pie and Mash Shops: The Classic Cockney Meal London Is Losing

Once the fuel of dockworkers and labourers, pie and mash shops now stand as some of the last living traces of London’s working-class past.

When we hear of “pie shops”, the mind tends to conjure up images of a bakery trading in sweet, golden-crusted treats. But today, we’re here to talk about a very different kind of pie shop altogether: the traditional pie-and-mash shops of London, a fixture of working-class life since the 19th century, and long considered a Cockney classic.

To understand its origins, we must cast ourselves back to London as it was in the mid-1800s, a city swollen by industry, its skyline darkened by chimneys, and its river choked with masts. Back then, London’s docks were the beating heart of global trade, witnessing ships laden with tea, tobacco, wine, and spices landing on a daily basis. Crowds of labourers swarmed through the wharves each day, sporting calloused hands and stomachs growling in a perpetual call for something hot and filling. It was amidst the hustle and bustle of this restless, rough-edged world that, perhaps out of sheer necessity, the pie and mash shop came into being.

The main dish served in these establishments is, as you might have guessed, pie and mash: a minced-beef and cold-water-pastry pie served with mashed potato. To be a proper pie and mash, two different pastries have to be used: suet for the base, and rough-puff or short pastry for the top. The mashed potato is often spread on one side of the plate, with it and the pie either resting atop, or finished with a ladle of parsley sauce called “liquor” (liquor here referring to the cooking liquid, and not anything alcoholic).

While in the present day the most common filling is minced beef, this was not always the case. In the earlier days, eels were the protein of choice, as they were cheap, plentiful, and resilient enough to survive the heavily polluted waters of the River Thames. Although they are no longer the primary filling, the eels live on as a side dish or topping in the form of jellied eels.

The preparation of jellied eels is a simple but distinct process. The eels are first chopped and boiled in spiced stock, then left to cool until the natural gelatin in the flesh sets the liquid around it into a firm, quivering jelly. Served cold, often with a dash of vinegar or chilli vinegar, jellied eels remain one of the most unmistakably East End dishes you can encounter. Order a portion and you’ll understand immediately why they’ve endured. It’s honest, unpretentious fare that is, in all probability, unlike anything else you’ve ever had.

Once a gathering place for the working class seeking a cheap, hearty plate to dig into after a long shift, the interior of these establishments generally followed a common, unmistakable theme. Characterised by white-tiled walls, marble counters, and wooden benches, these were functional spaces built for quick meals and steady trade. And if the look of the place didn’t give it away, the sawdust scattered on the floor to catch the stray eel bones most certainly did.

Where they were once abundant, the number of pie and mash shops is now dwindling due to gentrification, changing tastes, and the decline of the traditional East End community. Eels themselves are harder to come by, with the number of eels caught in research traps in the Thames dropping from 1,500 in 2005 to a mere 50 in 2010. Most of the eels used in pie and mash shops these days are sourced from Northern Ireland and the Netherlands instead.

As London transforms into an increasingly polished and expensive city, elements of its working-class past are gradually being eroded. Only a handful of pie and mash shops hold their ground still, serving the same dishes to new generations of diners. They’re worth seeking out before they vanish entirely.

So, the next time you find yourself in London, skip the glossy restaurants the city is overflowing with, and head east for a meal that has fed countless Londoners over the centuries. In a few surviving shops, you’ll find that very little has changed. The tiles are still white, the counters still marble, and though the sawdust is gone—swept away like so many old traditions—the spirit of the place remains very much the same.