The farm that stopped sending the cattle away
Hillstown is a working farm first. The shop came second, and it came from an old frustration: you raise good animals, you send them off, and somebody else decides what they're worth and who eats them. So the family put in a butchery counter and started selling their own beef over it, direct.
Francis is the farmer, and by the shop's own account he has been at it for the best part of sixty-five years — a stockman who watched the whole trade change and went on doing it the traditional way anyway, with animal welfare as the thing that doesn't get traded off. Nigel runs the business across the farm, the butchers and the restaurant. Ally is the head butcher and the one deciding what makes it onto the counter.
The cafe grew out of the same logic. If the beef is that good, cook it here and let people eat it fifty yards from the field. Somebody then bolted a full-size Massey to the wall above the tables, which tells you the tone of the place better than any menu would.
Go for the meat. Have the lunch. And take a look at the counter before you order — whatever the butcher has put front and centre that morning is what he'd want you to eat.