Berries on Tap: Rebuilding a Fruit Farm Around Direct Connection

We visited Berries on Tap, a small family-run soft fruit farm near Selsey in West Sussex that is pioneering a new model by selling premium berries directly to consumers via vending machines.

I visited Berries on Tap in late summer 2025, six years after the Evans family stepped away from supermarket supply and began rebuilding their business around direct sales. Tucked away on a modest parcel of land once part of an old Land Settlement Association scheme, they have created something quietly radical.

What began as a high-yield operation supplying strawberries and berries to major supermarkets has evolved into a hyper-local, ethical and tech-savvy business focused on quality and direct customer relationships — all centred around a vending machine at Berries on Tap.

From boom to burnout

I met Kathy Evans at the entrance to the farm beside their impressive vending machine, housed inside a converted shipping container. Customers were already stopping to buy fresh punnets of berries grown just 20 metres away in their glasshouse.

As we walked across to meet her son Archie, who now manages the farm, Kathy began to explain the history of the business she and her husband Nick started in 1991. At its peak, the farm produced more than 300 tonnes of fruit annually, supplying supermarkets and high-end restaurants. They employed 20 permanent staff and more than 130 seasonal workers.

“We grew quality produce and were quite innovative in what we did,” she told me. “But after years of squeezed margins and supply chain pressures, it just wasn’t viable anymore.”

Their final commercial season came in 2019.

“It was probably the most awful time of our lives, jacking that in,” she admitted. “But we knew something had to change.”

Rebuilding from the roots

The turning point arrived when Archie returned from travelling and working on large arable farms in New Zealand. He was keen to join the business — but only if it could move in a more sustainable and future-focused direction.

Inside the glasshouse, Archie was testing the brix (sugar) levels of ripe strawberries using a refractometer. He handed me one to try; it was intensely sweet and juicy.

“That’s a 12,” he said proudly, explaining that even premium supermarket fruit often measures closer to nine.

“We were all pretty adamant we didn’t want to go back to supermarkets,” he added. “So the first question was: where are we going to sell the fruit?”

The answer came in the form of a refrigerated vending machine installed inside a custom-fitted shipping container positioned just off the main road. Customers could now buy freshly picked strawberries, raspberries and blackberries alongside other local products — organic milk, cheese, sorbet and more — without tills or shop staff.

“It’s kind of a juxtaposition,” Archie said. “You’re buying from a machine, but there’s still a real connection to the farm. We’re always here restocking, filming videos and chatting with people. The community’s totally bought into it.”

A new kind of farming

Sustainability sits at the heart of the new system. The farm now grows everbearing varieties in unheated glasshouses and polytunnels.

“None of our crops are heated — only frost protected,” Archie explained. Unlike many commercial growers who rely on fossil fuels to extend the season, they deliberately chose a lower-input model aligned with natural growing conditions.

At the time of my visit, the main vending machine was powered by solar panels meeting around 80% of its energy needs, with plans underway to expand the array and install battery storage to make the system fully self-sufficient.

Equally important is transparency.

“Everything we sell is local, within ten miles, and grown or made with the same ethos as us,” Archie said. “And we’re honest about it — because my generation can fact-check anything in five seconds. Trust is everything.”

Premium product, zero waste

Seasonality and waste reduction have become central to the business model. All class-two fruit is frozen, either for winter sales or for collaborations such as sorbet with Gelato Gusto and fig ketchup with Squished.

Frozen fruit sits alongside fresh produce in the vending machines when supplies fluctuate — something customers have embraced.

“Our customers are really in tune with seasonality now,” Archie said. “If there are no strawberries one week, they’ll pick raspberries or just wait.”

Labour remains one of the biggest challenges.

“To grow good strawberries, you need attention to detail,” he explained. “Dad always says it’s easy to grow strawberries — it’s just really hard to grow good ones.”

By focusing on quality, the farm has been able to price fruit around 15–25% above supermarket standard lines — roughly equivalent to premium supermarket ranges — without alienating customers.

“They know exactly what they’re getting and who they’re supporting,” he said.

At the time of my visit, the business was entering its third year under the new model, with turnover up 58% and profit up 65% compared with the previous year, when the venture had only just broken even.

“We’d processed over 3,000 more transactions that year,” Kathy added. “That told us footfall was growing.”

Innovation behind the scenes

Back in the glasshouse, Kathy showed me rows of strawberries, raspberries, blackberries and tayberries before leading me into the cold room, where fruit is chilled and packed ready for sale.

Nearby, tucked inside part of the old packhouse, Archie had launched another experiment: a mushroom lab producing high-value varieties such as Lion’s Mane grown on recycled coir substrate — originally used for strawberries before being pasteurised and reused.

“It’s this kind of constant innovation that makes a direct-to-consumer model work,” Kathy said.

A scalable vision?

Outside, business was picking up. Regular customers stopped to chat, some commenting on a newly installed organic milk vending machine. With locals, tourists, cyclists and even horse riders stopping by, Berries on Tap has become something of a community hub.

On busy weekends, demand can require dedicated staff simply to keep pace with restocking the machines.

Between the two shipping containers sits a small pop-up stall where local florists, cheesemakers and artisan producers sell their goods each Saturday.

“It gives others an affordable space and adds value for customers,” Kathy said. “Win-win.”

Even then, Archie was already thinking about how the vending model might be replicated elsewhere. He had developed a standardised container design and was exploring ways to manufacture and ship units to other farms.

“It’s not cheap,” Kathy admitted. The Italian-made vending machine alone costs around £40,000. “But it can be a game changer for a small farm business like ours.”

Social media and supermarket realities

Alongside a modern website, much of the farm’s marketing is driven by Kathy through social media. Regular stock updates and educational videos — often featuring Nick explaining seasonality and growing conditions — help maintain engagement and drive footfall.

Our conversation turned to supermarkets and the wider food system. Kathy acknowledged their role in keeping food affordable but reflected on the pressures placed on growers.

“It’s long hours and very little money, and that’s been driven by supermarket pricing,” she said. “The balance of power is just so unequal.”

Still, she sensed a cultural shift emerging.

“There’s a kind of Arts and Crafts movement happening among 25- to 35-year-olds,” she said. “People really care where their food comes from.”

Stories of local children trading Berries on Tap fruit instead of sweets in the playground suggested that shift may already be underway.

Final thoughts

Six months on from my visit, Berries on Tap feels emblematic of a wider shift taking place across British farming — one where smaller producers are rebuilding resilience through direct relationships rather than scale alone.

The Evans family has rebuilt their business from the ground up, moving away from volume-driven supply chains towards a model rooted in quality, transparency and community connection.

Berries on Tap may farm only around ten acres, but it punches well above its weight in creativity and ambition. With simple, scalable ideas like farm-based vending machines gaining traction, it feels increasingly likely that more growers will follow their lead — reconnecting food, farmer and customer in ways that feel both modern and deeply traditional.

More Information

An earlier version of this article first appeared in South East Farmer magazine.