‘My grandfather was Britain’s biggest taxpayer, but we ate roadkill’

Petra Barran is a street food entrepreneur who found fame in 2012 on launching Kerb, a community of London street food providers. Currently operating at Seven Dials Market, the National Theatre, the Gherkin, and West India Quay, Kerb has a business incubator scheme and is also a food hall operator and event caterer.

How did your childhood influence your attitude to money?

I was brought up in rural Suffolk by parents for whom food was the Co-op’s discount section and roadkill. My father was forever pulling the car over to inspect animals; he’d jug hare, do pheasant risotto. It was horrendous. I got slices of quivering brawn pushed to me as a six-year-old or, “You’ve got to eat your fat.”

People in our orbit had money so it was confusing. My family were so resourceful that my great-aunt washed cling film and hung it out to dry. My dad had a market garden and grew herbs and vegetables which people bought. He worked as a fishmonger, teacher; my mum taught dyslexic kids and worked in a gym. 

My grandparents had a huge house with garden, 40 acres, a lodge and converted stables that we lived in; so I grew up with lots of space. My granddad, a big cheese in Shell, was once the country’s biggest taxpayer. His attitude to money was “let’s enjoy it because I ain’t taking any with me”: generous and sociable.

What were your first jobs?

At 12 I worked in London with my florist auntie who paid me £10 a day. Up at 4am, we’d go to Covent Garden market, pick out flowers and deliver them. I saved £60 and spent £25 on a denim mini-skirt. At 14, I worked in the Lavenham tea shop for £3.50 an hour.

I’ve always loved service, where food is the vehicle for a connection with people. After university I worked for the super-rich on superyachts round the Med and Caribbean, where I tried chocolate. I felt high-quality chocolate here was austere and wanted to make the different ways of having chocolate accessible to everyone, like drinks in Mexico or ice cream in France.

What was your first food venture?

Choc Star: selling chocolate from a van. I did festivals and drove round Britain seeking chocolate lovers and a bed for the night in exchange for chocolate pudding.

Weirdly, I enjoyed the mystery of going to festivals after forking out in advance for pitch fees and a fridge van not knowing if I’ll make money. During the 2007 floods it was nine festivals in a row with terrible weather and just breaking even all summer.

Are you a saver or a spender?

Spend it now, enjoy life. Mostly I’ve spent money on travelling. Some years ago I invested in a food company as it felt like everyone was jumping on the train and it went bust. I lost £12,500.

Do you use cash, debit cards or credit cards?

I used to be cash-on-hip as Choc Star was a cash business. I’d have rolls of cash to buy chocolate, pay the team, pitch fees. I didn’t have a lot in the bank: I didn’t even know my Pin.

These days it’s the opposite. It tends to be debit card because I maxed out a lot of credit cards with businesses in the past. I got into £30,000 of debt 15 years ago, and it took a while to pay it off. I had four credit cards and kept doing the changing credit card companies trick: a year of no interest, move to another company then amalgamate.

But I’ve learnt a lesson. I like knowing how much money I have and paying bills on time.

Have you invested in property?

Yes. A flat I bought in Tower Bridge in 2015 that I rent out. And I’ve just sold a flat I bought in 2007. A few years ago it was like, “get as much property as you can”. Then they started making it harder for small-time landlords to benefit from that. I decided I didn’t want two properties on my hands. I rented it out when I lived in America, but it’s time to do something else with that money.

Have you had trouble paying your bills?

Twice in Kerb’s early days I could pay the team but not myself. One dodgy moment was putting all our money into a temporary venue and nearly going bust. We got so excited, but suddenly there was a frantic Lehman Brothers-style exit. We’d rented a beautiful space but didn’t have time to generate the profit needed to make it work.

Luckily this guy rented the whole thing for his 40th birthday and it saved our bacon.

Does money make you happy?

Earning it is what I love about trading on the street. On the superyachts what connected the super-rich was this ennui. They were quite tight as well, despite cruising around beautiful places with chefs cooking them incredible food and being waited on.

At university I was skint in my final year, living on £100 a month. I applied for a grant, received £500 and sat on my bed going into overdrive.

Now I can buy clothes, music, gig tickets. I bought things just because I could but felt depressed. I’ve had that feeling since and don’t like it. Money gives you great choices but you have to be careful.

The best and worst things you’ve bought?

Best, my second-hand 2001 Mercedes CLK which I love being on the road in.

Perhaps not “worst”, but I bought two velvet sofas before realising they couldn’t get into my flat. They had to heft them over the wall to get upstairs, break the door then repair the door. So the new owners have to inherit them.

Has money had its surprising side?

Once travelling alone in Guatemala heading for America, at a cash machine I couldn’t find my card. When I told some mountain people in a queue they rustled cash together for my bus fare. On board I told an old woman I still had a taxi to pay for; after she got off she knocked on the window and handed me cash for it. Then at the airport I had to pay $25 (£20) in tax. A guy queuing said, “I’ll pay it for you.”  That remarkable sequence of generosity from strangers I’ve never forgotten.

What prompted your Kerb business idea?

When one festival that folded didn’t refund my pitch fees I was angry, thinking, “how is there no protection?” Months later, after rumblings and knowing there was so much talent, I had an idea. Everyone agreed. I was p---ed off too about how our country’s a laughing stock around the world for our food and wanted to change that as well.

Before Kerb I had another street food collective, Eat Street, and went scouting for talent. I’d sit round kitchen tables and say, “I like what you’re doing, do you want to join?”

My love of bringing people together came to the fore. Put it all together on the street and you’ve got some energy that feels important in a world of increasing homogeneity.

Do you invest in the stock market?

Yes. My financial adviser talks about the market’s volatility; it’s been going terribly for a year. He says: “Don’t panic. Wait it out. See this as a 10-year investment and don’t worry about the details.” I’ve got an app on my phone, but if I checked it every day, I’d go mad. I’ve got this ethical fund which is high risk because I didn’t feel I was getting much out of it, and said, “Could we amp up the risk factor?” I’m a gambler at heart. Trading on the streets is a gamble.

To apply for the inKERBator programme, visit kerbfood.com