LONDON — As a light drizzle starts outside, the river of people flowing through the famous doors at M. Manze becomes a flood. It’s noon on a Tuesday, and they are all here for the same thing: hot pie, mash and liquor.

Like the pastry, the place is stuffed to the brim. Diners make space on church-style pews by shuffling up and down the long, creaky benches. Savile Row suits rub shoulders with saggy soccer jerseys while elderly ladies mingle with tattooed hipsters. Hot pies hit cold marble, with a single portion costing the princely sum of $8. This is communal dining, Victorian style.