Great photo. A masterpiece

I found this photo on the net by chance. Its simple but its perfect, a perfect example of how great photography can be.
For years, I avoided going  on Tower Bridge Road, the oldest pie and mash shop in the land, even though I was desperately keen to try it.

It sounds silly, but I felt intimidated. I thought it would be akin to walking into one of those isolated truck stops in the American deep south, where as soon as you enter, the locals stop in mid-conversation or mid-mouthful, look you up and down and you feel as if you've got "intruder" stamped on your forehead.
From its façade that dates from 1891 to the queues of people that could have walked straight off the set of EastEnders, Manze's has all the trappings of a bastion of the English working class.
The queues begin to form just before opening time at 11 on Saturdays, when I normally buy my big tub of humus and pita bread from Badr's "superette" or eat an all-day breakfast panini with a creamy cappuccino at SoBo (South of Borough), next door to Manze's. Funny how these polar opposites of culinary Britain sit next to each other.
I finally plucked up the courage to go in on a weekday to minimise the intrusion factor. Sure enough I got a "what are you doing here" look from one of the all-women staff sitting by the entrance doing a fair imitation of a fierce French concierge.
Silly me, I thought it was waitress service and took a pew (literally) at one of the thin, long marble tables. As the waitress sat immobile at her station near the front door, I ventured to ask whether it was counter service. "Yes you have to queue up," she barked.
I went to the counter and ordered pie and mash rather than jellied eels. The woman behind the counter scraped some mash on to the side of the plate, plopped on an appetising brown oblong pie and poured green gravy from a huge stainless steel container over the pie.
As it was early on a Thursday, the place was not too busy, about a half a dozen people eating in and a steady trickle of takeaway customers. As for the décor, Manze's is a vision in green leavened with dark wood panelling. Pale and dark green tiles on the walls, the waitresses are dressed in green uniform and gravy - the famous parsley liquor (a secret recipe) - to match.
I must confess that the steady banter from the fierce one, who had spiky comments for each of the regulars, was more interesting than the food.
"He's always trying it on, that one," she said of one fellow involved in a long discussion about his takeaway order. Of another, she commented: "He's the one that used to nick our vinegar bottles."
The best part of the dish was the gorgeous flaky pastry; so it was a shame that the gravy poured directly on to the pie turned it into a gooey concoction. The filling, however, was a disappointment, not much minced beef and what there was of it was a tad gristly. The liquor, green as it was, however, was pleasantly delicate and light. The meal was a bargain, £3.40 with a Fanta, although to complete the experience you should really have a sasparella.
I was glad to have finally penetrated Manze's, although the food proved a bit underwhelming, notwithstanding the knockdown prices. A Danish colleague, however, recommends the pie and mash round the corner from the Guardian in Exmouth Market and F Cooke in Broadway Market in Hackney.
"I have a love-hate relationship with pie and mash," says Lars. "It's steeped in tradition, but it's one-dimensional food."
That about sums it up for me too. After my pie and mash I popped into SoBo, a totally different universe, where the clientele tap away at their laptops while sipping coffee. As I ordered a cappuccino, I wondered which establishment conformed more to Gordon Brown's idea of Britishness, Manze's pie and mash or SoBo's toasted paninis. What do you think?