I’ll tell you why. Three or so weeks ago, I wanted to cook something special for my friends Paola and Mike to thank them for generously letting me stay with them for a while. I needed pork chops, and good quality chicken thighs. I went to the Askew Road Ginger Pig, on a busy Saturday morning. I’d heard good things about this particular butcher’s chain, and had bought some lovely beef from their concession at Borough Market before. In front of me was a glass counter filled to the top with beautiful looking plump chickens. Some bright yellow Poulet de Bresse, some ‘Black Legs’, my favourite, and what looked a bit like Label Anglais chickens, which appeared to have been aged for a few days, and had the tell-tale pyramidal chest shape of a Cornish Red chicken. So. No shortage of choice then. I asked the butcher whether he had three large thighs I could buy. He said no. Me: “Hang on, you’ve got about a hundred weight of dead hens and a knife. Why not?” Butcher: “Well we expected to sell a lot of chicken breasts so, we prepared that lot.” *pointing at pile of quite nice breasts*. Me: “Well, I assume the chickens had legs originally. Where are they?” Butcher: “Dunno.” Me: “What do you mean, dunno?” Butcher: “In pies, I think. Over there.” *now waving his knife in the general direction of the hot counter* Me: “But I specifically need thighs. Good ones, with the skin on. That’s why I’m here.” Butcher: “Well, that’s a shame, because, as I’ve already told you, we’ve run out.” Me: “Why can’t you sell me three from those?” *pointing at his mountain of chickens* Butcher: “It’s not really worth my while, you see. Can’t you use skinless breasts? I mean what’s the recipe?” Me: “No, disrespect, but I know what I’m doing, and no, I can’t. Why? Are you offering me a bit of discount?” Butcher: “No.” Me: “What do you expect me to do? Go to Tesco Metro next door?!” Butcher: “Or the co-op up the road. They might have some too.” I left in disbelief. An award-winning butcher that recommends that I go to the next door supermarket for my chicken, I don’t need. Especially, after I had just bought £20 of rare breed pork chops from him. First and last time.