The Day We Almost Ran Out of Chips

The Day We Almost Ran Out of Chips

The fryer alarm was blaring, a proper ear-splitter that sliced through the Friday night racket. 7:53pm. We were properly in the soup. Every table rammed, the bar three-deep, and poor young Liam was starting to sweat buckets behind the pass. Only been with us a month, and this was his first proper Friday night trial by fire.

"Liam, deep breaths, mate! Just keep those plates coming!" That's Fiona, our front-of-house boss. She's got this amazing knack for staying cool as a cucumber, even when someone's demanding a refund because their steak is "too pink" (after ordering it rare, naturally).

I was expediting, trying to keep the orders moving and the chaos under control. That's when I saw it. The chip station looked... bare. Worryingly bare. We were running low. Seriously low.

Anyone who's ever worked in a pub or restaurant knows that running out of chips on a Friday night is basically a mortal sin. It's like running out of beer. Or gin. Or decent chat. It just doesn't happen. Except it was happening.

I yelled back to Maria, our potato guru. Maria's been with us since day one, a solid ten years. She's seen chefs come and go, survived floods, power cuts, and even a Christmas party where the head chef ended up wearing a lampshade. She's the heart and soul of this place.

"Maria! Chips! We're dying on our feet here!"

Maria, bless her, didn't flap. She just gave me this tired look and said, "Running low, love. Been prepping all day. We're using those Maris Pipers, remember? From Farmer Giles? They take a bit longer to peel."

Farmer Giles. That was the snag.

About six months before, we'd decided to switch to locally sourced potatoes. For years, we’d been using those frozen chips, the perfectly uniform ones that come in massive bags. Easy. Cheap. But also… completely devoid of character.

Farmer Giles' Maris Pipers were different. They were knobbly, a bit wonky, and needed some elbow grease. But they tasted incredible. Like proper chip-shop chips. Golden, fluffy, and with that earthy taste you only get from fresh spuds.

The problem was, they needed more prep. Loads more prep. And on a Friday night, when every second mattered, that extra prep time was a killer.

What Actually Happened

We staggered through that service. I rationed the chips, Fiona charmed the customers with apologies and free drinks, and Maria was grafting like a Trojan in the back, peeling and chopping like her life depended on it.

But we still ran out. At 9:30pm. Just as the late-night crowd started piling in.

The fallout was… well, you can imagine. A few grumbles, a couple of walk-outs, and a general sense of disappointment hanging around like a bad smell.

I felt awful. We'd let our customers down. And worse, we'd let the team down. They'd been working their socks off, and we'd failed to give them what they needed to do their jobs.

That night, after the last customer had finally left and the tables were cleared, we sat down with a bottle of something strong and talked it through. Maria was knackered, Liam looked like he'd seen a ghost, and Fiona, bless her, was still trying to crack jokes.

"Well," she said, raising her glass, "at least we've got a good story to tell, eh? Remember the night we ran out of chips? Legendary!"

But even behind the humour, I could see she was worried. We had to sort this out.

Then Maria spoke up, her voice croaky with exhaustion. "It's the prep, love. We need more time. More bodies."

The Bit Nobody Talks About

Here's the thing about sourcing locally that nobody mentions: it's not just about feeling good and those Instagram shots of smiling farmers. It's about the graft. The endless, repetitive, mind-numbing prep work that happens behind the scenes.

We'd romanticised the whole idea of supporting local businesses. We’d imagined ourselves as culinary heroes, championing sustainability and serving the best chips in the county.

And we were. But we'd underestimated just how much work it would take. We’d focused on the "why" and forgotten about the "how."

Peeling potatoes isn't exactly glamorous. Chopping veg isn't exactly thrilling. But those jobs are the bedrock of any good restaurant. They're the unsung heroes of the kitchen. And if you don’t get them right, everything else goes to pot.

The problem wasn't just the potatoes. It was the whole prep routine. We were relying on a skeleton crew to do everything, from chopping onions to making sauces to prepping desserts. We were burning them out.

And here's the uncomfortable truth: we were being tight-fisted. We were trying to save a few quid by running on fumes, and it was costing us in staff morale, customer satisfaction, and our reputation. We'd somehow convinced ourselves that "efficient" meant "doing more with less".

The other thing nobody tells you? Changing your ways is tough at first. Really tough. It felt like we were making MORE mistakes, not fewer. More dropped trays, more mis-orders, more general grumbling. But Maria kept at it, showing everyone the right way, every time.

What I'd Do Differently Now

The first thing we did was hire another kitchen porter. Not just any kitchen porter, but someone who was keen to learn. We found a young lad called Ben who was eager and genuinely interested in food.

We didn't just stick him with the washing up. We trained him up. Maria taught him how to peel potatoes like a pro, how to chop veg evenly, and how to make basic sauces. She treated him like a protégé, not just a pair of hands.

And here's the amazing thing: Ben thrived. He loved learning, he was quick, and he took pride in his work. Soon, he was taking the weight off Maria, letting her focus on other things.

We also revamped our prep schedule. We started prepping earlier in the day, before lunch got crazy. We broke down the jobs into smaller chunks. And we made sure everyone knew what they were doing.

We invested in better kit. A decent potato peeler (not some rusty old thing we’d found in a cupboard). Sharp knives. Proper chopping boards. The right tools made a massive difference.

But the biggest change was our attitude. We stopped seeing prep as a chore and started seeing it as a chance. A chance to train our staff, to be more efficient, and to make our food even better.

And slowly, things started to improve. The kitchen became calmer, more organised. The chips were consistently spot-on. And the team started to pull together like a well-oiled machine.

It wasn't just about the chips anymore. It was about the whole vibe. We were creating a good atmosphere for our staff, which meant better service for our customers.

Look, we still run out of stuff sometimes. It happens. It's hospitality. But now, when it does, we're ready. We have backup plans. And we have a team that can cope.

We also learned how vital consistency is. Maria’s dedication to showing Ben (and everyone else) how to do things properly, even when it was easier to just do it herself, really paid off. It meant that even when Maria wasn't there, the standards didn't drop. The new team members learned faster and were more confident, because they knew they were doing it right.

For Your Venue

If you're thinking about sourcing locally, or if you already are and you're struggling to keep up, here’s my advice: don’t skimp on the prep. It’s the engine room of your business.

Invest in your staff. Train them well. Give them the tools they need. And treat them with respect. They're the ones who will make or break you.

Don't be afraid to spend a bit more on labour. It's better to have too many hands than not enough. A knackered, overworked team is a recipe for disaster.

And finally, remember to celebrate the small wins. A perfectly cooked chip. A smooth service. A happy customer. That's what makes it all worthwhile.

We still use Farmer Giles’ potatoes. They’re still knobbly and a bit weird. And they still need a lot of prep. But now, we're ready for them. And the chips? They're better than ever. And if we DO happen to run low, Fiona's got a whole new set of potato jokes. Which, surprisingly, the customers seem to enjoy. Mostly.