Salty Dog Is Born!

By the end of the 1990’s the business was booming. Having started from nothing – just me, a clapped-out old van and a lock-up full of crisps – I could no longer cope on my own. I was working six days a week delivering to existing customers, with no time to canvass for new ones, and the paperwork – one of my least favourite things – was forming a tower in my in-tray!

 

The tiny storage unit I was using on the farm was bursting at the seams. Boxes were stacked to the ceiling, and you had to do a sort of sideways shuffle to get from one end to the other. Loading the van on a rainy day meant half the stock getting damp because it was so close to the door. It was time to move up a gear.

 

Moving Up in the World (Well, on the Farm)

 

I had a chat with the farm owner, Michael Sweeting, and explained my problem. Luckily, he had a small L-shaped barn available. It was still very rustic, but it was a proper space with room for about twenty pallets of stock. It even had a tiny office space up in the rafters. It felt like a proper business now. I remember standing there on the first day after moving in, just soaking it up. The barn echoed with potential.

 

That’s when Michelle, my very first employee, joined. She was a friend who had been watching the madness unfold and offered to help with the admin. She started part-time in 1999 and was a lifesaver. I was good at selling, loading the van, seeing in deliveries and talking to customers – but not so great with invoices, VAT returns, or filing anything in the right place. Michelle got everything shipshape and added a bit of calm to the chaos.

 

Enter Jamie, and the Business Doubles

 

In 2000, Jamie joined the team. A bright friendly chap, full of energy and with a real “can do” spirit, he was just what I needed to take the pressure off. I bought another second-hand van, and tasked Jamie with looking after all of our existing customers. This left me free to spend more time going and finding new business. The growth was exponential.

 

We weren’t just selling more; we were becoming known in the trade. Pubs started calling us instead of the other way round. New venues wanted something different, and we were supplying a range that felt like a breath of fresh air. But with that growth there were challenges too.

 

A Nutty Dilemma

 

One issue that started bubbling up came from an unexpected place: peanut oil. The bulk of our business came from the crisps we sold – Jonathan Crisp – a premium hand-cooked crisp brand. They had great flavours, cool packaging and a decent following, but they insisted on cooking their crisps in peanut oil.

 

Now, to many customers, that wasn’t a big deal. But for others, especially those serving food, it became a serious concern. Allergies were becoming more of a talking point, and some buyers were nervous about stocking crisps cooked in peanut oil. I passed the feedback on, but the Jonathan Crisp team dug their heels in – they wouldn’t change the oil. They were proud of their process and adamant that it produced a better tasting crisp.

 

Unfortunately, that meant that we started to lose some good customers. Not because they didn’t like the crisps, but because they didn’t want to take the risk. It was frustrating. We were doing everything we could to build relationships, but this was out of our hands.

 

New Players in Town

 

Around this time, a new crisp brand had entered the scene – Burts. They were bold, loud, and offered an excellent hand-cooked crisp that was catching people’s attention. It was also cooked using sunflower, not peanut oil. We lost a few customers to them as well. It’s always tough when you’ve nurtured an account, only to have someone else swoop in with shiny packaging and a slick pitch. I even phoned Richard Burt, the company founder, to see if he wanted me to distribute his crisps, but he turned me down flat. 

 

That’s the game though. You’ve got to roll with it or get left behind. Still, it fired me up. I didn’t want to be just the middleman anymore. I wanted to create something of my own – something we controlled from top to bottom. Not someone else’s product, not someone else’s decisions. Our brand, our rules.

 

A Muddy Encounter

 

Then came a fateful meeting with a man named John Mudd. He called me and said that he’d launched a brand called Real Crisps, based in Wales. When we met, I liked him immediately – a straight talking, ebullient Welshman, smart and passionate about crisps. He’d been building a decent business and was looking for new customers. We had a chat about working together, but at first, I turned him down.

 

I tried his samples, and felt they were too oily. The potatoes and flavours were great, but they left me with greasy fingers. I knew my customers and didn’t feel they were quite good enough for their discerning tastes. So, we shook hands and left it there. Nice bloke, but not the right product.

 

A few months later John got back in touch. He had invested in a new fryer, apparently a massive improvement. I tried the new batch, and he was right. They were spot on. Crisp, full of flavour, cooked in sunflower oil, and not a trace of grease. Honestly, I was impressed. I placed a large order with him on the spot, and Jamie and I began selling them alongside Jonathan Crisps.

 

But it still wasn’t quite right.

 

Our customers loved the taste of the new crisps but preferred the branding of Jonathan Crisps. Their design was perfect for what they were building in Wales, but not what our London gastro pub customers were looking for. I told John as much. And then I had an idea. 

 

The Big Idea

 

“What if,” I said to John, “we created a whole new brand? Something quirky and fun, something that looks great behind a pub bar or in a posh deli. We’ll use your crisps – they’re fantastic now – but we’ll design the brand around the customers I know inside out”. John said he’d give it some thought, but called me later that day, to say they had decided to make a private label product for a big London wholesaler rather than me. So, once again, I left it. Disappointed, sure, but not defeated. You get used to these little setbacks in business, you’ve just got to keep going.

 

With hindsight I can see that decision made perfect sense for them, but at the time I was gutted. Nowadays if a small snack wholesaler, like I was back then, approached a manufacturer with the same idea, they would have no chance at all. The volumes required would be impossible for them to achieve. 

 

I can see now that this was my big stroke of luck. Hand-cooked crisps was a brand new concept, which made it possible for a little guy, like me, to join the party.

 

Salty Dog is Born

 

Then, a few months later, the phone rang. It was John. The London wholesaler hadn’t worked out as they’d hoped, their product hadn’t really taken off, and now he was open to giving my idea a shot.

 

That was the moment everything changed.

 

We got to work straight away. My sister Kerry is a graphic designer, and she came up with the name Salty Dog and a fantastic design (see part 2 of this blog) – cheeky, memorable and full of character, with a funky design on bright silver bags. As soon as I saw the first bags, I knew we had a winner. I now know that designing a brand that resonates with people is far from easy, but thanks to Kerry we struck gold first time.

 

When we started showing it to customers, they got it straight away. It made people smile and they all said ‘We’ll take it” straight away.

 

Salty Dog was off the leash.

 

Building a Brand from the Back of a Barn

 

We launched with five flavours to begin with – classic, punchy and totally moreish. The branding gave us an edge in an increasingly crowded market. Suddenly, we weren’t just selling someone else’s product – we were building our own world.

 

It wasn’t easy, every penny we made went back into the business. There were late nights and early starts. But it felt different now, we were creating something that was ours. Salty Dog wasn’t just a product – it was a personality. It was a symbol of independence, of going your own way, of having a laugh while doing serious business. And customers loved it.

 

We didn’t have big advertising budgets or national listings. What we had was grit, determination, and a big idea that just happened to bark a little louder than the rest.

 

Join the Terriertorial Army

 

As with every chapter of this journey, I want to finish by inviting anyone out there who’s dreaming of starting something, to consider joining the Terriertorial Army. That’s my plan to help young entrepreneurs, like I was, build something for themselves.

 

It’s not a gimmick, it’s not a franchise. All you need is a vehicle, a bit of storage, the willingness to work hard, and the guts to try. We can supply the products and plenty of advice when you need it.

 

In the next blog I’ll talk about how Salty Dog went national, how The Mutt’s Nuts were born and the wild ride that followed.

 

Thanks for reading!