Between Ourselves: The Butcher Sets the Record Straight

There is a particular look a customer gets when they are holding a question they would rather not ask. I have watched it from behind this counter for the better part of thirty years — my father watched it before me, and his mother before him. The eyes flick to the chops, then to me, then back to the chops, and the question goes home unasked.

So let us remedy that. Here are the queries we hear in half-sentences, answered in full.

"How long is this really good for?"

Minced beef: two days in the fridge, no heroics. A whole roasting joint, unopened: four to five days, and it will tell you honestly if it has turned — your nose is a better instrument than any date stamp. Bacon and cured goods forgive you for a week. And if you have bought too much, freeze it on the day of purchase, not on the day you remember it exists.

"What's the cheapest cut that tastes expensive?"

Beef shin, without hesitation. It costs a fraction of fillet and, given three hours of low oven and a splash of ale, it produces a richer sauce than anything money can buy outright. Lamb neck does the same trick. The secret nobody puts on a label: the cuts near the bone and the hoof do the most work, and therefore carry the most flavour. Cheap cuts are not lesser cuts. They are simply cuts that ask for your time instead of your wallet.

"Is it awkward if I ask you to trim it differently?"

Not remotely. It is the job. Some like the rind left on their pork loin; some want it off, and the skin scored, and the chine bone out while we are at it. My grandfather kept a notebook of regulars' preferences and, I confess, the practice continues. Ask. We are quietly flattered.

"What should I actually do with a whole chicken?"

More than you think. Roast it one night — properly, with butter under the skin and a lemon in the cavity. Pick the carcass the next day for a stock that will improve every soup you make for a fortnight. Any remaining meat becomes a pie or a risotto on day three. A good bird should feed a household three times, and anyone who tells you otherwise has not met our hens.

"Did I overpay for this?"

If you bought it here, no — and not merely because I say so. Our margins are built on volume and loyalty, not on the assumption that you did not look. If you bought elsewhere and wonder, well. That is a question for the other butcher.

Ask Us Yours

This column intends to become a regular fixture, which means it needs your questions to survive. Slip a note across the counter, or send one to the shop marked 'Ask the Butcher'. Nothing is too basic, too fussy, or too faintly embarrassing. The only silly question is the one you carry home unasked — and we would rather you asked it here, where the answer comes with a rasher of friendly advice thrown in free of charge.