There are few things more deeply savoury, satisfying and delicious than salty, smoky lamb cooked over a crackling wood fire. Except perhaps, mutton cooked this way.

I remember being told the best thing to do with an old mutton carcass was to slow cook the whole thing. I was younger and less experienced, but we had hung the carcass for four weeks. The meat was dark and dry and carried a good looking, firm, white fat, so I kind of hoped the loins would be tender enough to serve pink. Ignoring the slow cooking advice and without really knowing how things would turn out, I cooked the loins hot and fast over glowing embers, with coarse salt, olive oil, rosemary and garlic. The meat was sensational, as tender as you could wish for.

I love mutton, it’s absolutely delicious. It’s got acres of character and spades of flavour, the meat is rich, claret dark and marbled with well flavoured fat. But the cooking and eating is not the only wonderful thing about mutton. In most cases this hardy, natural grazer has lived a long and productive life compared to that of lamb. It’s seen warm summers turn into cold winters, time and time again. It’s produced wool each year for thick jumpers and cosy socks. It may well have produced milk for cheese and yoghurt, and then of course, it will have produced lambs, which may well have the potential to go on and do the same, again and again.