Fire and brimstone: The London Log Company

Because we import much of our charcoal from South America via trucks and ships, distillation has to stop at about eighty percent to give the wood enough rigidity for transportation. ‘The trouble is, when it gets to its final destination, that charcoal still has to go through the final distillation process, which will only happen in the grill,’ says Mark. ‘Any lingering elements that are burnt off will stick to anything in its way, so food will pick it up.’

Not a problem, then, for local charcoal makers like Mark. ‘Because we don’t have that, we can get a really clean coal so when it cooks it’s in its most pure state.’

‘Clean’ as it may be, Mark leaves a bit of character in every species of wood, each yielding its own unique flavour. The difference in the clarity of note, he says, is like the distinction between sparkling wine and Champagne.

‘We have a strong view that each wood carries an identity because of its soil type and where it grows. For instance the Weald of Kent, where everything’s washed out of the downland, produces a certain environment that’s similar to the land in Champagne in Reims – if you took away The Channel, it’s the same thread of earth that goes underneath it.’

This thread of earth has a clay base that’s quite claggy and full of stone. What that means, as Mark says, is that you have conditions that produce a plant high in integrity. ‘It’s a harshness of climate which produces a certain type of plant, a certain type of fruit and a certain type of wine.’

And that same harshness is true of the Weald. ‘The wood that grows in that part of the downland is much slower growing than other places because the land is much harsher, but what it does to the flavour is it makes the grain tighter and the woody notes more intense.’

One species that’s become relatively ubiquitous in the Weald – due to the way it thrives – is silver birch. It’s a good growing harvest plantation crop, meaning it plants itself and regenerates easily once it’s harvested. There are two virtues to this. One is that it ensures Mark and his crew aren’t stepping heavily on the forest. The other is the ability to keep restaurants well supplied with an essential ingredient that provides zesty, citric notes to their cooking.

‘Birch sap is high in natural sugar,’ says Mark. ‘When we have that in our blend of coal, say in a Josper oven, those aromatics become part of the environment the food cooks in. It’s a very nuanced and subtle thing, and it’s like the perfect climate.’

This idea of trees possessing a sense of terroir becomes easier to understand when you look at what cider makers have been doing for the past 2,000 years or more. ‘You have two main areas for growing cider apples – Suffolk and Somerset,’ says Mark. ‘Somerset has quite a harsh soil type that produces the fruit note, whereas in Suffolk they’ve got ancient glacial flood plains, with dark sediment and clay soil, which result in a balance within the fruit.’