Reinventing Desi Snacking Through Innovation, Heritage And Bold Entrepreneurship
Steve Sailopal discusses his journey from fashion and alcohol-free beer to founding Curry Smugglers, revealing how culture, resilience, innovation, and authentic flavours are transforming modern South Asian snacking.
S teve Sailopal has never been content to follow established paths. Throughout his career, he has built a reputation for identifying overlooked opportunities and transforming them into distinctive brands that challenge convention. From learning the fundamentals of business in his father’s fashion manufacturing company to becoming one of the early pioneers of Britain’s alcohol-free beer movement, his entrepreneurial journey has been driven by curiosity, resilience, and a willingness to question the status quo. Every venture has reflected his belief that products deserve not only exceptional quality but also compelling stories, strong design, and a clear sense of purpose.
Today, as the founder of Curry Smugglers, Steve is applying that same philosophy to South Asian snacking. By elevating familiar Desi favourites with premium presentation, authentic flavours, and modern branding, he is redefining how consumers perceive a category that has long been overlooked. His story is one of innovation born from personal experience, setbacks transformed into opportunity, and an unwavering commitment to celebrating culture through business. In this exclusive interview, Steve reflects on the defining moments of his career, the lessons learned from success and adversity, and why he believes the greatest opportunities often lie where others fail to look.
You started out in your father’s fashion manufacturing business, supplying major high street brands. What made you swap fashion for brewing?
Fashion was my world because it was my dad’s world. I grew up around fabric, production, deadlines and supplying major high street brands, so I learned business from the factory floor. But after my dad passed away, fashion just didn’t feel fun anymore. The joy had gone from it for me.
Then, almost by chance, a fabric supplier introduced me to a Belgian brewery that needed a rebrand. That project pulled me into the world of beer the craft, the stories, the people and the culture around it. I continued working as a beer consultant after that, and from there, the rest is history.
You were one of the pioneers of the UK’s alcohol-free beer movement. What did you see in the category that others didn’t?
At the time, alcohol-free beer was treated almost like a punishment. The branding was dull, the flavour was poor and nobody was really speaking to people who wanted a better choice. It was all about what had been taken out, rather than what could be built.
I saw a future where alcohol-free beer could be credible, flavour-led and part of culture, not hidden away on the bottom shelf. I believed it could have the same care, creativity and respect as any other beer.
I think that is why I still have a lot of respect in that part of the industry. I was there early, before the category became fashionable, and I helped move the conversation on. For me, it was never a trend. It was about showing that alcohol-free beer could be proper beer, with proper flavour, proper branding and proper ambition.
Founding Nirvana Brewery was a huge achievement, but stepping away from the business was clearly a difficult chapter. Looking back, what did that experience teach you?
It taught me that building something is emotional as well as commercial. Nirvana was a huge part of my life. I literally put the brewhouse together with my bare hands, so walking away from it was incredibly painful.
The hardest part was realising that not everyone around a business will always share the same values, loyalty or vision. When you put everything into something, it is difficult when people disappoint you or when the situation changes in ways you did not expect.
But it also gave me resilience. I learned that things can change quickly, and that you have to protect both your ideas and your own wellbeing. The experience, the lessons and the drive stayed with me, and in many ways that chapter made me much more grounded about what it really takes to build something again.
After losing your best friend to alcoholism, you launched Good Karma Beer. How did that personal loss influence both your thinking and your business ambitions?
Losing my best friend made the work much more personal. Good Karma Beer came from grief, but also from hope. I wanted to create something positive around drinking culture, something that gave people choice without judgement.
It made me realise that business can have meaning beyond sales. It can start conversations that people genuinely need. Good Karma was not just about making another alcohol-free beer. It was about trying to put something good into the world after something very painful.
You received plenty of investment offers for Good Karma but decided not to take them. Why was staying independent so important?
After Nirvana, I needed to protect the soul of the brand. I also felt I had a point to prove not in a bitter way, but I wanted to show I could build something on my own terms.
We had investment interest, and there was even an opportunity to merge the brand into a very large brewery. But it did not feel right. Good Karma had come from something deeply personal, and I did not want it to lose that meaning by becoming just another brand in someone else’s portfolio.
Investment can be brilliant, but it has to be the right fit. At that stage, I wanted to keep Good Karma honest, independent and true to why it started.
Curry Smugglers is certainly an eye-catching name. Tell us the story behind your mum and the ‘smuggled’ spices that inspired the brand.
My mum would frequently bring spices back from her trips to India. It was completely normal in our family spices were part of home, part of our culture, and part of how we kept those flavours alive in the UK.
On one occasion, I was probably about 12, and we got stopped at customs. The officer saw how much spice she had packed and jokingly said something like, “What is this, curry smuggling?” It was all harmless and in good humour, but as a kid I remember the drama of that moment so clearly.
That line stayed with me. Years later, when we were building a brand around South Asian snacks, Curry Smugglers felt perfect. It had humour, family, flavour and a real story behind it.
Bombay Mix has long been seen as a budget snack. Why did you think it deserved the same premium treatment as craft beer or speciality coffee?
Because the flavour is incredible. Bombay Mix and South Asian snacks are bold, complex, layered and full of craft, but they have often been treated like cheap background food. They get put in plastic bags, hidden on the bottom shelf, or treated as something you only buy from the world food aisle.
I used to look at craft beer, speciality coffee and even chocolate and think, why do those categories get beautiful packaging, storytelling and respect, but Bombay Mix doesn’t? These snacks have history, culture and proper flavour. They deserve to be picked up, talked about and gifted, not just thrown into a bowl at the end of the night.
That was really the starting point for Curry Smugglers. We wanted to take something familiar and make people see it differently. Same soul, but with a bit more attitude.
Your snacks are all about authentic flavours, small-batch production and eye-catching packaging. What do you think today’s consumers are really looking for when it comes to snacking?
People still want flavour first. That will never change. But I think they also want something that feels interesting, honest and a bit more considered. There are so many products on shelves now that you have to give people a reason to stop.
For us, the can does that. At markets, people pick it up and say, “Wait, is this beer?” Then they realise it’s snacks, and suddenly there’s a conversation. That curiosity is powerful. It makes people smile before they’ve even tasted anything.
But once they open the can, the flavour has to back it up. We are not trying to be novelty for the sake of novelty. The snacks have to taste great, feel generous and carry that proper South Asian flavour. I think today’s consumers want products with personality, but they also want substance behind it.
You’ve disrupted more than one category during your career. Do you actively look for industries that have become a bit complacent?
I don’t know if I actively go looking for them, but I do seem to end up in categories that feel a bit stuck. Alcohol-free beer was like that when I first got involved. It was dull, apologetic and treated like something people had to put up with. Indian snacks have had the same problem in a different way. Great flavour, but very little brand energy.
I think when a category keeps saying the same thing, using the same packaging and speaking to the same audience, there is usually space for someone to come in and have a bit of fun with it.
I’m probably attracted to the underdog categories. The ones people underestimate. There is something exciting about taking something people think they already know and making them look at it again.
You’re returning to brewing this summer with a Desi lager. What makes it different from the Indian beers already on the market?
Most Indian beer in the UK has been built around the same old curry house story. Same familiar names, same old clichés, same “goes well with curry” message. There is nothing wrong with those beers, but they do not really speak to a new generation.
Our Desi lager is different because it is not trying to recreate that old world. It is inspired by South Asian brewing culture, ingredients and identity, but it is designed to feel modern. For example, with our lager we use rice, which has a real heritage in brewing long before the IPA story became the headline.
For me, Desi beer should not feel like something stuck in the past. It should feel fresh, proud and relevant. No curry house wallpaper, no elephants, no lazy clichés. Just a clean, modern lager with a Desi point of view.
You’ve experienced remarkable highs as well as some incredibly tough setbacks. How have those experiences shaped the way you approach business today?
They have definitely made me more grounded. When you have had big highs, you know how exciting it feels when an idea connects. But when you have also had setbacks, you understand how quickly things can change.
I think I am more careful now about who I work with, what I say yes to, and how much of myself I give away too quickly. That does not mean I am less ambitious. If anything, I am more ambitious, but I am more aware of the cost of building something.
I still believe in taking risks. I just try to take better ones now. I trust my gut more, I protect the brand more, and I have a much clearer sense of what I will and will not compromise on.
Looking ahead, what’s next for Curry Smugglers, and where do you see the brand in five years’ time?
The next stage is about getting Curry Smugglers into more places where people naturally snack: independent retailers, delis, bars, hotels, gifting, trains, offices, food halls and national retailers. We want the cans to become something people recognise instantly.
We are also building beyond just one product. Curry Smugglers is really about modern Desi snacking, so there is so much room to grow the range, the gifting side, and the way people experience South Asian snacks.
In five years, I would love Curry Smugglers to be the go-to modern Desi snack brand. The brand that made people look at Bombay Mix and Indian snacks differently. I want our cans in cupboards across the country, but also in places where people might not expect them. That is where the fun is.
Bonus: If you could share a pint and a packet of Curry Smugglers with any three people, living or dead, who would they be and why?
My dad, first of all. He taught me graft, resilience and how hard business really is. I would love him to see what I am building now.
Bob Marley, because his music has been part of so many moments in my life, and I think he would understand the connection between culture, roots and bringing people together.
And Anthony Bourdain, because he understood food as culture, not just something on a plate. I think he would have understood Curry Smugglers straight away and he would probably have been brutally honest about the snacks, which I would respect.
What’s the one food or drink trend that everyone else seems to love but you simply don’t understand?
Food that needs a ring light.
I love creativity, but if something looks incredible and then tastes of absolutely nothing, I’m out. I’d rather have something messy, crunchy, spicy and full of flavour than something built only for a photo.
And I have to be honest Rauchbier, the German smoky beer style, has never quite made sense to me. I respect the tradition, but every time I try it I think, why should my beer taste like it has been sitting next to a bonfire?
Be honest – what’s the strangest place you’ve ever tested one of your products or pitched one of your ideas?
Probably in a brewery car park, from the boot of my car. That sounds very glamorous, doesn’t it?
Your mum smuggled spices into the UK… what’s the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done that you’re actually willing to admit in a magazine interview?
Probably being part of a Bhangra band in the 80s, where we were fusing Bhangra with house music. At the time, that felt rebellious because we were mixing worlds that people did not always expect to sit together.
The highlight was being invited onto John Peel’s show. For a young British Asian kid making that kind of music, that felt huge. Looking back, I suppose that has always been part of me taking something with roots and culture, then pushing it somewhere new.
