After five long years, the pie and mash journeymen found themselves once more at the gates of the kingdom of West Essex. Their entry into it was anything but straightforward. Waltham Cross was missed and Cheshunt was the unplanned starting point for a navigation of the River Lee which eventually brought them to the western reaches of Waltham Abbey – final resting place of the last Saxon king, Harold 'One-in-the-Eye' Godwinson.

Situated bang on the Greenwich Meridian, Waltham Abbey is an ancient market town with generous helpings of history. But as the three wayfarers were greeted by friend Ray Goldstone on the ramparts, their primary concern was generous helpings of food. Across the broad market square they strode purposefully like four footmen of the a-pie-calypse – their destination, the inner keep of King Tony's Pie and Mash Shop.

Within its steamy confines they found every essential for human comfort inscribed upon Tony's blackboard. It was precisely as they had left it five years earlier, apart from inflation – 49 pence have since been added to the price of your basic pie mash and liquor, which now costs 3.99.

Among the photo memorabilia we spotted evidence of a previous enterprise at 16 Terminus Street, Harlow. Note the seating arrangements.

The seating pods – formica table tops with green plastic chairs bolted to the floor – have not budged an inch since 2013. We chose a big one in the middle of the shop, which was buzzing with lunchtime punters young and old.

Mike G had several times to wipe the steam from his eel-eye lens, but it was worth it for the mouth- (and eye-) watering close-ups of the goodies arrayed before us.

[Right:] Eels stewed, clad in parsley.

[Underneath:] Eels jellied, splashed with chili sauce.

Overhead and profile shots of Tony's double mash serving configuration – an unusual combine of both scoop and scrape methods.

But the quiet, cosy fug of our foursome was not to last, as we shoved up to make room in our pew for the Gobfather himself, Mr Len Wilcock, seen here in the act of anointment. As ever, he was in verbal form as the steam ascended from his plate. Imagine having a dad like Len . . .

Well, we had the opportunity to do just that as young Rob Wilcock joined us at table. Tempt him we could not – he sat resolute and foodless with his parka firmly zipped. Gentle and determined parental persuasion has not inclined him to the fodder of the gods, but he knows what he does not like and we have to respect him for that. Perhaps he might take it up later in life, like golf.

Treasures of Waltham Abbey.

The quorum in forum.

Tony's parsley-packed liquor is a herbalist's heaven.

Meet the staff: Shannel (left) and Renee (right)

A flour-power portrait of the guv'nor himself, Tony Lane.

As with many a traditional pie and mash shop, there is feast aplenty for the eyes.

The display area is a prominent feature of Tony's – the first thing you see when you step inside.

We didn't have this last time – a proper afters, and well worth the fifteen minute wait.

The filling was molten cherry.

As with the main course, your instruments are spoon and fork.

If you're still hungry after all that, there's bread, butter and thank you.

The Fed-up Five pause outside the shop. Verdict: Tony's is all you could want from a traditional London Pie and Mash Shop, complete with a cosy, welcoming and unhurried atmosphere. Satisfaction guaranteed, you're left wishing there were more shops like this left in London. Well worth a day trip.

Two pubs vie for custom on Market Square; we chose the Welsh Harp – while it's still standing.

Further chat and a pint. Len gave us a glimpse of life in Ilminster, where he is now in residence, and some sporting anecdotes from the days of lace-up footballs and dubbin, when he was a good old fashioned 'hardback'.

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