Fifty five years of field to fork

Words by Jamie Crocker

Three generations shaping Britain’s most dynamic farm shop.

It begins with a dung heap. Not a metaphorical one, nor a discreet nod to rustic charm, but the real thing, visible if you wander far enough across the yard. There are tractors parked where tractors ought to be parked, cattle moving across fields and mud where you would expect mud. Darts Farm makes no attempt to disguise that it is, at heart, an agricultural enterprise. For all the shine that has accrued over five decades, it remains grounded in the practical business of growing food and rearing livestock. 

The business was begun in 1971 by Ronald Dart, at a time when small farmers were increasingly squeezed by the wholesale system. He was growing vegetables for supermarkets and competing on price with larger, intensive operations. The quality of his offering, he believed, was superior, but the return rarely reflected that. The route to market available to most growers provided little room for distinction; produce was a commodity, and margins were thin. Galvanised by this knowledge, Ronald’s response was direct: if the system undervalued what he grew, he would simply bypass it. He began selling straight to the public, establishing one of the country’s earliest pick-your-own enterprises. Customers could walk into the fields, select their own produce and pay the farmer rather than the middleman. Sadly, in 1982 Ronald passed away aged just 49, with newspapers reporting ‘Death of a Pioneer’. While he didn’t get to finish what he started, the seeds he sowed were in his sons; Michael, James & Paul.

The principle and common-sense underpinning that move were straightforward: local food should be eaten by local people. Yet that common sense has proved durable. More than half a century on, the language surrounding food has changed – sustainability, transparency, wellness, but the conviction that proximity matters remains central to Darts Farm’s identity.

George Dart, Michael’s son, speaks about the business as a network of relationships. They believe that the farm has always operated in the relationship business rather than merely retail or hospitality. The bonds with producers, many of whom have worked alongside the family for decades, are as important as the transactions taking place across a counter. Suppliers grow with the farm rather than being replaced at the first sign of cheaper alternatives, with staff retention being unusually strong for the sector; ten, fifteen and twenty-year tenures are not exceptional.

Top: Farmer Robbie & their Ruby Red Devon cattle

Above: Robbie and Louey harvesting courgettes for the farm shop & restaurants

That culture has shaped the customer experience. Some regulars visit several times a week, drawn not only by what is on offer but by the familiarity of faces behind the tills and counters. It is a transactional community that is locally based and relies upon personal relationships. Come summer, a different rhythm sets in, with visitors heading to Devon and Cornwall peeling off the motorway and incorporating Darts Farm into their annual ritual. At Christmas, families return for particular cheeses, joints of beef or provisions for a festive table. The clientele is a blend of the habitual and the occasional, which creates a steady base alongside seasonal peaks.

Location has undoubtedly helped. A few minutes from the M5, near Topsham, the farm is accessible. Yet accessibility alone does not account for its success and its evolution. The Dart family has been prepared to take calculated risks, informed not by a profit motive but as a continuation of the ethos set out decades before.

The most conspicuous of these is The Farm Table restaurant. Housed in what was once a potato shed, then a greenhouse and later a low-ceilinged children’s toy shop, the space has lived several lives. During the pandemic, when restaurants across the country were closing and uncertainty prevailed, the Dart family decided to build another one. George admits, with hindsight, that it was a bold decision bordering on the naïve. There was no elaborate business plan, no tightly defined return-on-investment target. Instead, there was time, an unusual commodity, and a sense that the moment allowed for experimentation.

The build unfolded in an organic manner. Without the pressure of normal trading, the whole team shaped the restaurant as ideas emerged. There were no high-profile interior designers imposing a house style. Local carpenters and joiners contributed their skills; a plumber designed and fashioned elements of the copper bar and wine rack. Details were resolved through conversation and craft rather than through conventional mood boards.

Even the acoustics owe their quality to an impromptu intervention. When corrugated tin was proposed for the ceiling, a local musician (of national fame) happened to be shopping. Invited to inspect the half-finished structure, he retrieved a guitar from his car and played within the space to demonstrate how the hard surfaces would affect sound. His suggestion to use cider cloth, hessian traditionally associated with pressing apples, was taken seriously. The cloth was installed overhead, and the result is a dining room in which conversation can be heard without strain, even when the tables are full. In an era when many restaurants suffer from a cacophony of competing noises due to a lack of wisdom, the attention paid to how a room sounds rather than simply how it looks has proved beneficial.

Within three years of opening, The Farm Table secured two AA rosettes. For a business whose previous restaurant offering had been more informal, the recognition was significant. George attributes the accolade to several factors, though he resists reducing it to a formula. The kitchen is led by Tom Chivers, who has been involved from the outset and whose approach aligns with the farm’s values. Fire-led cooking is central. Ingredients are often treated with restraint: grilled over flames, seasoned carefully, allowed to speak for themselves.

The emphasis on fire reflects both an aesthetic preference and a practical logic. When produce is at its peak, excessive manipulation can be counterproductive. A whole turbot placed over the grill, oil catching light and flame, carries a certain theatre. Yet the theatre is incidental to the method. The open fire also alters how a room feels; there is a primal draw to flame that no induction hob can replicate. The pizza oven and grill sit visibly within the restaurant, reinforcing the connection between cooking and eating.

Seasonality dictates much of the menu. Each week, the kitchen receives a list of what is available from the farm, with the contents shaping the dishes. Beef often comes from the Dart family’s own herd of native Ruby Red cattle and fish is sourced from Brixham through established contacts. At certain times of year, when produce from further afield is at its best and cannot be found locally, blood oranges from Italy, for instance, it appears without apology. The aim is not to impose arbitrary limits but to serve food at its most compelling.

George is clear that food alone does not guarantee success. Atmosphere and service matter as much. He speaks about the energy generated when the food hall beyond the restaurant is busy, when the dining room hums and staff move with purpose. The meal becomes part of a wider experience rather than an isolated event. 

That thinking extends beyond the restaurant to the wider site. The farm shop encompasses butchery, the vineyard, cider pressing and chocolate production. There is a sense of drama in seeing these processes unfold. Customers can watch chocolate being made or cider being pressed. The sights and sounds reinforce the reality that food originates from the land and sea rather than packaging from a supermarket shelf.

Underlying this is a broader concern about the contemporary food system. George speaks frankly about the pressures on farmers and the industrial supply chains that reduce produce to anonymous commodities. In his view, such systems disadvantage growers at one end and consumers at the other, delivering lower returns to the former and less nourishing food to the latter. Darts Farm believes in a different food system. One where value is shared fairly and consumers can choose real, natural food from people they know and trust.

Growth, however, presents its own challenges. Darts Farm is no longer small in scale, yet the family is cautious about expanding too quickly, with the approach being organic rather than contrived. Suppliers are encouraged to grow alongside the business rather than being stretched beyond capacity, with collaboration being seen as the way forward.

The communication that emerges from the farm has historically been understated. It has not relied heavily on slogans or overt declarations of principle. George acknowledges that a visitor arriving with no prior knowledge might not immediately grasp the depth of the family history or the thinking behind certain decisions. Recently, however, the business has begun publishing a printed journal in newspaper format. Combining seasonal recipes with editorial content, it offers a tactile way of telling the story, one that sits comfortably on a kitchen table rather than disappearing into an inbox or internet landfill.

As Darts Farm celebrates its 55th anniversary, there is little suggestion of settling into routine. The Farm Table, once the bold new venture, now functions as a launch pad for further ideas. Plans are underway for a tulip festival, with hundreds of thousands of bulbs planted across the farm. The event will include live music and food, drawing visitors outdoors and into the fields. A larger summer festival is also in development, conceived as a gathering that brings together music, farm feasts and elements of wellness. George admits that the project carries some of the same uncertainty that accompanied the restaurant build: a clear vision of the atmosphere they hope to create, though not every detail is yet in place.

That willingness to proceed without exhaustive guarantees has characterised the business from its inception. Ronald Dart did not know, in 1971, that selling direct would reshape the trajectory of his family’s farm and future. The decision was grounded in dissatisfaction with the status quo and belief in the quality of what he grew. The same instincts have guided Michael & his brothers to create the Darts Farm of today.

For customers increasingly attentive to where their food originates, that visibility carries weight. Darts Farm has expanded into hospitality and events, earned accolades and attracted national attention, yet it has not detached itself from the fields that made it possible. The dung heap remains. So does the conviction that food tastes better when its origins are neither obscure nor abstract. After fifty-five years, that combination of a willingness to go with gut instinct and honesty continues to define Darts Farm, as it looks ahead to whatever the next chapter may bring.

dartsfarm.co.uk