But hear me out. What Henderson’s most known for is advocating “nose to tail eating,” in other words, using every part of the animal, even the weird bits. They might take more effort than a loin or filet to render delicious, but that’s exactly why Henderson is celebrated: he makes bone marrow sing alongside acidulated parsley, pairs salted back fat with walnuts for an effect “rather like eating grown-up peanut butter,” and throws fresh peas in with veal tails for soup that’s at once hearty and delicate. The menu at St. John’s reads like a challenge, but that’s why Henderson deserves respect; at his place, one veers towards ox heart and tripe rather than away from them.

Henderson’s vocation, to make use of the “set of delights, textural and flavorsome, that lie beyond the fillet,” is a welcome stance in a highfalutin cooking world that, before the emerging trendiness of seasonal, regional foods, once required—and still often indulges in and loves—flown-in white asparagus, Scottish scallops, aji straight from Tokyo’s Tsukuji market, or who knows what else, the more obscure the better. His cooking, on the other hand, is very British, which, pre-Henderson, was generally acknowledged to be a bad thing; he literally launched a renaissance. From a sustainable-foods perspective, what’s brilliant about this is that, consequently, Henderson has been one of the leaders in championing independent butchers, local cheesemakers, and small-scale suppliers .(“P.S.,” one recipe says, “Tony the Snail Man said I could give you his number, 01432 760218, and he might be able to sort you out, depending on where you are.”)

Will you ever braise squirrel? Grill venison liver? Or make a soup out of potatoes and back fat? Take a chance. You might be surprised at how good it tastes.