The thrusting upwards geometry of the Isle of Dogs Commercial Quarter formed the backdrop to Round 10’s drama in Docklands. By comparison, Chrisp Street Market’s brutalist precinct seemed positively homely. Ray Goldstone and I traversed it, taking in the attractions at leisure on a bright spring day.

Faggots and saveloys are still possible in this Cockney enclave, but the focus was on Maureen’s marvellous pie shop as we counted down the minutes to 13:11.

Never has the use of Gill Sans Ultrabold been so well considered.

[Right] The menu board – only the numerals have been tampered with.

Those familiar with Pie Lore will know that Eastenders Pie and Mash trades less than a furlong distant. By gentlemanly agreement, Maureen’s don’t deal eels, bolstering their victual output instead with an alternative East End staple: salt beef – available via the medium of beigel, or in a gravy-spuds-and-peas dinner format.

Once we were ensconced in the cosy formica-topped feeding pods, however, our food faculties were firmly focused on pie, mash and liquor.

Starting the day in second place, Nick Everton quickly reasserted his dominance of the Pie and Mash League.

Maureen’s maximum table capacity is 4, but after a bit of bum-shuffling around, the party was able to seat itself more or less adjacently.

There was a steady stream of lunchtime punters as the collective jaw of the pie and mash club went to work.

Our good friends the Harvey Family took advantage of the academic break to join us for a session. The wunderkind [Charlotte, right] was in excellent form, both physically – and verbally.

Tom Leader added gravitas to our social event.

If you need some gravitas in your squash, just add chili vinegar – available in all good shops.

The Poplar Turtle in its natural habitat.

But these pies don't construct themselves – there is human toil crafted into every crust. The vigour with which Jason the Pieman bends to his task is an essential ingredient of the Maureen's experience, keeping an East End tradition vibrantly alive.

Behind the scenes at this popular Poplar Pie Powerhouse, Lorraine [below right] was completing a consignment of salt beef beigels for an East End funeral at Upton Park; Lorraine is the niece of the eponymous Maureen.

Keeley and Claire were front of house.

Goldwater's seconds – seconds before annihilation.

Edward Mosse went large - perhaps his largest ever – with an extraordinary triple pie extravaganza

As the lunchtime progressed there was time to catch up with some old friends.

Tom Leader's post-pie salt beef sandwich was no great surprise to club veterans, who remember his predatory rampage through Exmouth Market at the end of Season 08–09.

Pete Harvey also found this delicious but non-scoring second course impossible to resist; both petitioned for a 2-point dispensation, but the claim was dismissed as tenuous. As something befitting dessert status, the committee might consider a salt beef crumble with mustard custard.

Maureen's has its fans.

The superbly designed lighting is conducive to print legibility whether it's your daily paper or something more literary.

Mosse showed off his copy of Stuart Freedman's 'The Englishman and the Eel' – the first book about pie and mash to be published since the mid-90s. Having endured the bottom of Edward's work bag for some weeks, some pages of this fine work were regrettably – and inexpicably – gummed together.

Here we encountered two daytrippers from Leytonstone, Mike and Bronwyn. Our audible blend of pie-driven expert opinion and inane drivel clearly caught their attention, but I think they were genuinely surprised to encounter such a band of dedicated pie and mash tourists as ourselves.

An uncluttered dining experience.

Jason learnt the trade in his dad's shop.

We believe it to have been at 217 East India Dock Road, opposite All Saints Church:

Pie and mash and hot salt beef - a winning and unique combination, making Maureen's an essential part of any tour of the East End.

As we crossed Chrisp Street and passed by Eastender's, I was reminded of that classic hit of yesteryear:

Daily, except for Sunday
You dawdle in to the pie shop where you meet her each day
Heartbeat, increasing heartbeat
As twenty cannibals have hold of you, they need their protein just like you do
This town ain't big enough for the both of us
And it ain't me who's gonna leave

We repaired to the Manor Arms on East India Dock Road.

The Manor Arms aka Bum Daddy's – blue and gold treasure trove and feast for the eyes.

St@