Fire, Flight and Fighting On

When 2010 rolled around, we felt unstoppable. Salty Dog crisps and nuts were flying out the door, Darling Spuds was finding new fans everywhere, and our hard work was paying off in ways I’d never dared to imagine.

 One of the biggest wins came from across the Atlantic. After our brief but thrilling stint with Starbucks, we’d kept pushing Darling Spuds, and in 2011 thanks to Judy’s tenacity and networking skills, we landed a contract with Delta Airlines worth a staggering 1.3 million bags per year. I still remember her telling me the news, so casually that I had to check three times that I’d heard her correctly. It was one of those moments when you sit back and think, “we’ve really built something here.”

 At the same time, my original business – Chiltern Snacks – was still going strong. Our vans crisscrossed London and the Home Counties, supplying pubs, delis and sandwich bars just as I had when it was just me in my battered old van. By now we were juggling two distinct operations: our own brands, and the wholesale distribution arm.

 Splitting the Pack

 In 2009, we had decided to separate the two companies properly. Chiltern Snacks would focus on van deliveries and wholesale. Salty Dog Brands Ltd would be our branding and marketing business.

 To make it work, we needed someone to take the reins of Chiltern Snacks. Enter Karen.

 Karen joined us in 2010 and immediately brought order to what had become a pretty complex operation. She organised the stock, streamlined the delivery rounds, and – most importantly – looked after our customers as if they were her own. Our key account was Geronimo Inns, owners of the Chelsea Ram – the first London pub I ever sold crisps to. By now they had over thirty super-busy gastro pubs around the capital. Karen kept all our customers happy and our vans running like clockwork.

 Things went so well that in 2012 we brought in Lynda as a part-time assistant to Karen. She took to the role so well that when Katarina (our brilliant bookkeeper from Slovakia) moved back home, Lynda stepped up to a full time role for Salty Dog. Both Karen and Lynda are still with us today – proof that great people make great businesses. We also beefed up our sales force, with Dominic joining to help me out with winning and managing new customers for Salty Dog.

 Outgrowing the Barn (Again)

 Back at our base on Pressmore Farm, we’d once again outgrown our space. The trusty L-shaped barn that had served us so well was bursting at the seams. Luckily, the biggest barn on the farm became available.

 It was perfect in size but came as a blank canvas – no office space, no facilities. Fortunately, Katarina’s partner Frankie is a skilled builder, and he set about constructing offices inside the barn. Within weeks we had a proper headquarters again: storage, packing, desks, and a kettle that didn’t trip the power when you plugged it in.

 We were ready for the next stage of growth, so that’s exactly what we set about doing.

 Hitting the Trade Show Circuit

 Judy, Dominic and I threw ourselves into exhibiting at as many trade shows as possible in the UK and Europe – if there was a hall full of buyers, we were there with a stand, some samples, and our story.

 Trade shows are hard graft. You’re on your feet all day, smiling, talking, telling your story over and over, hoping the right buyer stops at your stand. But they work. Every show seemed to bring new customers, new ideas, and new energy.

 By now our brands were firmly established, and the business was humming. We’d gone from a local van route to selling internationally. From one barn to another. From a scrappy startup to a recognised company.

 We thought we’d seen it all. Then came the phone call.

 “I’m Standing Outside the Factory Watching It Burning”

 Real Crisps – the company John Mudd had started and later sold – was now owned by Tayto, a huge crisp company based in Northern Ireland. They own several factories in the UK, including Golden Wonder.

 For years, the production of Salty Dog and Darling Spuds crisps had stayed in the same factory in Wales. It was brilliant. We knew everyone there, they knew us, and we felt like part of the family.

 One day in 2012, Judy and I were in the car on our way to a trade show when the phone rang. It was Robin, our account manager from Tayto.

 “I’m standing outside the factory,” he said, “watching it burning.”

 Judy thought she’d misheard him. “What do you mean, burning?”

 “It’s on fire Judy. The whole place.”

 The factory was completely destroyed. Along with it went all our finished products, all our stocks of bag film, boxes, flavourings – everything.

 I remember pulling off the road, looking at Judy, and feeling the bottom fall out of my stomach. We’d been through setbacks before, but nothing on this scale. We had airlines to supply, pubs to supply, wholesalers to supply. And overnight, our production capacity was gone.

 Saved by the Scale

 This is where size matters. Because Tayto was such a large company, with multiple factories, they were able to switch our production to another site. We were only without product for about eight weeks (while we had more film and boxes printed). It felt like forever at the time, but compared to what could have happened, it was a miracle.

 John Mudd called me not long after. “If it was still owned by us, Dave,” he said, “with just one factory, we’d all be ruined.”

 He was right. It was another reminder that in business, risk never disappears – you just have to manage it differently. We’ve always been risk takers, but this was a good example of why you also need strong partners.

 It was a scary time, but we survived to fight another day. And not just survived – we grew.

 Fighting On

 Once production was stabilised, we doubled down on what we did best: telling our story, making great snacks, and getting them into as many hands as possible. Judy and I kept travelling to shows, meeting customers, and spreading the word.

 Our team at home – Karen with Chiltern Snacks, Lynda and Dominic and Katarina with Salty Dog – kept the engine running. Our new bigger barn with plush new offices gave us room to breathe and plan.

 We had been through the fire – literally – and come out stronger.

 Lessons from the Flames

 Looking back, that factory fire taught me a few big lessons:

No plan survives contact with reality. We thought we were prepared, but no one plans for their factory to burn down.

Relationships save you. Because we had a great relationship with Tayto, they moved mountains to keep us supplied.

Teamwork matters. While Judy and I were out on the road, our team at home held everything together.

 It was one of those moments when you realise your business is bigger than you – it’s a group of people, each doing their bit, each invested in the outcome.

 Join the Terriertorial Army

 This chapter of our journey could have been the end of our story. But instead, it was another reminder of why we do what we do: because building something of your own is never easy, but it’s always worth it.

If you’re reading this and you’ve got an idea of your own, don’t be put off by the risks. Yes, there will be setbacks. Yes, things will go wrong. But if you’re willing to fight on – if you’ve got that terrier spirit – you can survive the flames and come out stronger. If that sounds like you, why not join the Terriertorial Army? We supply the product and expertise, you supply the tenacity and drive.

 Next time, I’ll share how we dealt with the aftermath of the fire, and an even bigger disaster – of my making. Stay tuned!