“Some of us were concerned that we’d have to divulge family recipes as part of the process,” said Cheryl Arment, an owner of Arments Pie & Mash, which has been making the dish in Walworth, in South East London, since 1914. “We didn’t want to because that’s what makes us different from each other. So we agreed on a standardised recipe of minced beef in flaky pastry with liquor and mash.”

The British Government’s Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs considers TSG status on one of two grounds: if a dish’s name has been in use for longer than 30 years or if it involves a traditional method of production. The shop owners decided to go for the second route.

“I am driven by a passion for my identity and food,” said Green, a founder of the Modern Cockney Festival and the host of the meeting. “It’s frustrating that pie and mash isn’t acknowledged like other foods are. Status would mean a badge of recognition.”

He organises workshops such as “Is Cockney Dying?” and has worked to have the Cockney dialect recognised as a community language by Tower Hamlets Council, a local government authority.

His campaign for pie and mash gained traction in October when Richard Holden, a Conservative member of Parliament, expressed interest and secured a formal discussion of the issue in Parliament to draw political support.

“It’s part of our living heritage and an important part of East End culture and community,” Holden said in a statement. He represents Basildon and Billericay, about 55km from London, in Essex. “With so many pressures being placed upon small businesses by the Government, giving pie and mash protected status is a no-brainer.”

Pie and mash is an integral part of Cockney culture. Historically, Cockney was the dialect of any working-class person born within earshot of the Bow Bells (St. Mary-le-Bow Church) in London. Cockney identity was deeply embedded in East London for a long time, but it has now spread much farther.

The story of pie and mash begins in the mid-19th century, when shipping docks opened in East London. Many Londoners spent long hours employed on the docks, which created a demand for quick, cheap, warm meals. It was then that pie men first appeared, wandering streets and markets to sell pies filled with eels from Dutch ships.

Minced-meat trimmings eventually replaced jellied eels, and what was likely the first pie shop, Henry Blanchard, opened in 1844 in the London borough of Southwark. Blanchard’s added mashed potato as an accompaniment.

The dish has remained the same: a handmade minced beef pie served with mashed potato scraped on to the side of a plate with a well of parsley sauce, known as liquor, poured into the middle. Traditionally, the sauce was made with water leftover from boiling eels, thickened with flour and seasoned with salt, pepper and chopped parsley. Today, however, few places use eel stock.

On a recent Saturday, three generations of a family tucked in at G. Kelly on Roman Rd in East London. Like all traditional pie and eel shops, G. Kelly has open windows, long marble tables and tiled walls. Where once the floor would have been covered in sawdust to catch any eel bones that were spat out, now it consists of clean tiles. Two condiments sit at the end of each table: plain malt vinegar and chilli vinegar. At £5 ($11) for a “one and one” (one meat pie and one scrape of mash) with liquor, this is a hearty, affordable meal.

“Our customers are mostly locals,” said Neil Venning, the shop’s fourth-generation owner. “They might be Cockneys or people who have moved into the area recently and are curious about what we sell.”

Gentrification has largely pushed Cockney people out of London. The diaspora moved mainly to Essex, which is now considered the home of pie and mash; traditional London shops such as Robins and Manze, one of the earliest pie and eel shops, expanded there and have loyal followings.

But long before pie and mash moved to Essex, shop owners in London sensed a shift in their customer base.

“Around 2000 we noticed a change in our customers,” said Arment, whose shop is in London. “They were coming from places as far as Hemel Hempstead and Devon to eat our traditional pie and mash.” She now works with shops licensed to sell Arment pies in the southeast of England and Essex, and cafes and coffee shops there buy blast-chilled pies and liquor to resell.

In the quickly gentrifying Leytonstone neighbourhood of London, Alfie Hak, a fifth-generation owner of Noted Pie & Eel House, established by his Dutch great-great-grandfather in 1926, has noticed a younger demographic.

“There might be a group of friends, and one is vegan,” he said. “We wanted to cater to the whole group, so we introduced vegan pie and mash to the menu, and now sell at least 30 of them on a busy Saturday.” Shop owners are happy to cater to this newer audience. Most traditional shops have adapted to evolving tastes, and offer vegetarian and vegan pies.

Green is confident that pie and mash will be awarded TSG status. Although he hasn’t lived in East London since 1977 – he is now in Barry Island, Wales – he visits regularly to remain connected to his roots and his campaign.

“This is not nostalgia,” he said. “This is about the future. Pie and mash is a culture. It’s about eating with your heart.”

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.

Written by: Demi Perera

Photographs by: Peter Flude

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