The club assembled in far-fling Felixstowe this April for its annual beano-by-the-sea. The advance party met at London's Stratford Station at 9:30am for a two-hour trip by rail to the south Suffolk coast under leaden skies and gusts of grey drizzle.

For your correspondent, it facilitated a felicitous meeting with former colleague and friend-of-the-club Paul Oakley, who was throwing open his beach hut for the first time this season.

At least a nautical mile south-west of Felixstowe central, Big Paul's seaside man-cave stands proudly fronting the North Sea, within a gobbet's hock of the largest container port in the British Isles.

Myself and Max Forbes advantaged ourselves of Mr O's hospitality while waiting for the second influx of grubbers to arrive at Beach Station Road, a short walk away by the Mannings Amusements.

Within the compact premises of Sally Jane's Pie and Mash Shop, there is much to amuse the eye, but as nine of us crammed in, my first thought was, does it go back any further?

This was the major attraction – the stuff of London lore and legend, a traditional Eel Pie. These days it's a speciality item rather than available and ready-to-eat, so we had taken the precaution of ordering four in advance.

With its superb pastry typography and a flourish of dill, this pie was picture perfect – it didn't stay that way for long. If Sally Jane's co-pie-lot Bob is to be believed, we were tasting a recipe first worked out over 100 years ago, using water from an artesian well at Leadenhall Street. It's worth pointing out here that they use only bottled water and their own-made beef suet for the pastry, and the liquor is comprised of eel juice.

Let's introduce two new clubbers, Sharon Morton and Laura Grant of North West London. Friends from teenage years, they have long been fans of the fantasy foodstuff, and recently put together their own Poplar double-header. [Read it here.]

Mike G persuaded webmeister Terry Moore and chum-since-short-trousers James Davies to join us.

For me, Mike and Nick Everton, the eel pie formed a filling first course. For Max it was first and last. In its honour, we have awarded the eel pie the statistically anomalous score of 5 points.

Onto the main course – a beef mince vessel every bit as rich and filling.

Terry and Mike went large with a 2-and-1; newcomer James wisely went single, although the prospect before him looked arid.

Everton tucked away a 2-and-2 without really stepping out of his comfort zone.

To our concern, Goldwater seemed to be entering the discomfort zone, blood visibly draining from his face, all bodily resources redirected to 'super-digestion'. In the interests of health and safety, we persuaded him to let the last smear of mash go.

Flavours of Sally Jane's.

This phone box folly is merely a gateway to the galley.

The first-timers embarked on a traditional dessert course. For Sharon and Laura, the small but mighty lump of compressed matter was a bread pudding too far.

For Paul Oakley, the JRP was easy-osey.

The celebrated chef rests her elbow – one that's applied copious amounts of grease to keep this show – which includes a thriving mail order business – on the road.

[Check out how to get your pies by post here.]

Sally had lined up a couple of copies of 'A Guide to Londoners Traditional Eating Houses' for us to sign, along with her visitors' book, which was aglow with culinary compliments.

The party's parting shot.

Don't be fooled by the modest exterior and quirky dining room – here they are serving restaurant-standard food at cafeteria prices. This is top-level pie and mash, created by a partnership with huge experience in cookery and catering. Oi Michelin, get yer stars out!

Further up Beach Station Road, we found the necessary refreshment at the Dolphin Inn.

Highlights from the seafront.

Felixstowe. On a clear day it's quite nice.
Otherwise there's the slots and Sally Jane's.

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