Tim Wilson didn’t mean to become a farmer. His farming and retailing
business, the Ginger Pig, began very much by accident, he insists. Yet in 15
years he has become that and more - an expert on rearing rare breeds of
livestock, a butcher, a producer of traditionally cured bacon, sausages,
pies and other meat products, plus a supplier to some of London’s top
restaurants.
Today he runs three farms in Yorkshire and three London shops, with a fourth
due to open next month. Turnover is at £2.5m for 2008, and Wilson expects it
to reach £4m by the end of March next year. He employs 52 people ranging
from stockmen and butchers to shop and office staff. Since starting to
dabble in pig-breeding in 1991, he has transformed himself from a property
developer into a champion of traditional breeds and sustainable farming
methods, turning his back on the large-scale production techniques more
typical of today’s agriculture.
Although he comes from a farming family - his grandfather was a farmer and
butcher - Wilson, 49, initially veered away from agriculture to forge a
career in property development. All that changed, however, when he came
across a farmhouse with a few acres in Harwell, Notting-hamshire. He felt
sure it had development potential, but when the seller vacated, taking with
him the smallholding’s ducks, geese and pigs, Wilson realised the property
lacked a certain charm.
He restocked the farm, Harwell Manor, with Tamworth pigs and bronze turkeys,
as well as geese and chickens “just to make the place look pretty”, and by
1993 found himself in the mucky business of animal husbandry, with local
customers for his home-reared pork. “If you have female pigs and a boar, you
will end up with a pig business,” he says simply.
The pig-rearing led to a farm shop at Harwell Manor, set up in 1995, in a
rough and ready corner of the barn with a butcher’s block and small cold
room. Wilson learned sausage-making and butchery, and although the business
was decidedly small scale in those days, he established a firm local
following. Regular forays down to Borough Market, in south London, began in
1997, and were followed by a shop with two full-time butchers, which opened
within the market in 2000. A second Ginger Pig shop opened just off
Marylebone High Street in 2003, and a third in Hackney earlier this year.
Wilson plans to open his fourth London outlet in Waterloo.
He puts the growth down to a willingness to go out and find opportunities.
“That’s all the Ginger Pig has ever done. I keep saying to farmers, there is
a market out there, but that’s what farmers aren’t very good at. Whatever
market is out there, you have to go out and see it. You can’t sit at home
and not take up opportunities.”
The success of the Ginger Pig also lies with the fact that Wilson’s green
credentials fit well with the trend towards speciality foods and that,
increasingly, consumers want to know about the provenance of the food they
buy: they want to eat meat that comes from animals that have been treated
and fed well, and that have not been bombarded with chemicals.
It is a trend that has seen healthy growth in the locality. In Yorkshire and
the Humber, which has a significant food manufacturing industry, the
speciality food sector is growing at 35% per annum, according to figures
from the regional development agency.
Wilson has funded the Ginger Pig’s expansion by reinvesting profits. He
doesn’t have an outside investor, although he has “leaned pretty heavily on
bank managers” from time to time.
Wilson favours traditional British breeds, not the hybrids common in
large-scale farming. His Tamworth pigs, Swaledale and Texel sheep and
longhorn cattle are well suited to the climate, and he keeps them outdoors
as much as possible. This means they take longer to mature, so his growing
cycles are longer than intensive farming methods.
Wilson uses 380 acres to grow his own animal feed. While he has rejected
intensive farming methods, he does not slavishly follow the edicts of the
organic farming movement, in that he will spray his crops, if it comes down
to a choice between spraying and crop failure, because he doesn’t want to
import feed. “I’d rather get crops here than turn my back on it. If it looks
as if it’s going to fail or it has got mildew, you don’t think, ‘I’m not
going to spray it’.”
Alison Robinson, a partner with accountancy firm Saffery Champness, based in
Har-rogate, who advises rural and agricultural businesses, says that many
farmers take that kind of pragmatic stance when it comes to organic farming
principles. “If it makes no business sense, they struggle with it,” she
says. “If you are branded as organic, as using no pesticides, that’s one
thing. But if you are promoting taste and quality, that’s another. Consumers
spending premium prices may want to be green, but they will probably take a
product that tastes good over rigid adherence to organic farming. They are
going to see that as an acceptable balance.”
Transporting food to London does put on some food miles, Wilson concedes, but
the capital is an important market for him. “People talk about food and
drink at dinner parties in London. They talk about where the meat comes
from, and where the cheese comes from. That’s not how it is in Yorkshire.”
Restaurant-goers are growing used to seeing a supplier’s name against meat or
cheese listed on menus. Customers include chefs Gary Rhodes, Jamie Oliver
and Ange-la Hartnett. The Ginger Pig supplies the Hawksmoor in Shoreditch
and the Anchor & Hope gastropub in Waterloo.
The question for the short term is whether consumers will continue to pay for
premium foods during a downturn. Wilson says the business will undoubtedly
take a hit over the next year, but he’s careful to price the meat in line
with premium ranges at supermarkets such as Sainsbury’s and Waitrose, and
will adjust his products and cuts to what the market wants.
The Ginger Pig, says Robinson, demonstrates how farming and entrepreneurialism
can go hand in hand. With the demise of farming subsidies, farmers are more
likely to move towards crops or breed animals they are interested in.
“People are looking far more entrepreneurially at what they are producing,”
she says. Following your inclination can be a difficult path, however.
“You’ve got to be absolutely sure you’ve got a market. If it doesn’t sell,
it’s a hobby.”
