Native breeds like Belted Galloway, Gloucester Old Spot, or Ryeland sheep are shaped by the land they come from. They graze in small pastures, hedgerows, moorland and lowland meadows. Their diets are seasonal. Their pace is natural. And in return, they give us meat with depth, fat that carries flavour, and cuts that roast or braise into something unforgettable. This kind of meat is not bred for yield alone. It’s bred for quality, character, and compatibility with its environment. When cooked properly, it rewards you with something that feels rooted and real — not generic or mass-produced.
Each breed brings something distinct to the table. Dexter and Aberdeen Angus cattle produce beef with marbling and depth, ideal for slow roasting or searing over flame. Tamworth and Oxford Sandy and Black pigs yield pork with rich fat and flavour — a world away from the bland lean cuts found in mass-market trays. Herdwick and Ryeland lambs grow slowly, resulting in meat with a complexity and maturity that suits both roasting joints and long, gentle braises. Understanding these differences isn’t elitism — it’s about recognising that meat, like wine or cheese, reflects its breed, its feed, and its soil.
Sourcing locally isn’t just about reducing food miles. It keeps small farms alive. It supports rural economies and encourages biodiversity. Mixed farming systems that rear animals alongside crops, woodland or pasture make better use of the land and help restore balance to the countryside. In contrast to the monocultures of industrial agriculture, these systems are slower, more complex — and more sustainable. And they foster human-scale farming: people who know their animals, their fields, and their customers.
Nose-to-tail cooking is part of this mindset. It’s about using the whole animal, not just the cuts that suit supermarket packaging. When you slow-cook a shin of beef, roast a rolled belly, or braise cheeks or neck fillet, you’re not just saving waste — you’re rediscovering the richness of texture and taste that modern menus often overlook. These are the cuts that reward patience. They tell a story of cooking that takes time and care, and they speak to a deeper kind of respect for the animal. In our kitchen, we don’t view these cuts as second-best — we view them as an opportunity for flavour, texture, and creativity.
There’s also something cultural at stake. British farming has shaped the countryside we know — the dry-stone walls, the grazing commons, the patchwork of small fields and wooded hillsides. When we buy British meat, we are helping to preserve that landscape and way of life. We’re investing in people who raise animals properly, who know their land, and who understand the difference between quality and quantity.
