The Making of: Neverland Ranch Sauce

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Monday Night Halloween 2016.

It was a damp but beautiful fall evening.

In a friend’s kitchen prepping for a pop up, I started to reminisce about the days of trick or treating.

Every year I’d tell myself, “This is the year I am going to fill up my pillowcase.” Only to have my parents take fifty percent of my night’s hard work due to “tampered with” pieces of candy.

“Those fuckers probably just saved those pieces for themselves...” I thought to myself.

But that is irrelevant…

Seeing that it was Halloween, I wanted to do something out of the norm instead of woodfired pizzas.

I was going to serve Nona pizza, square slices served for five dollars with a side of ranch sauce…yes, sauce. Not dressing. Because dressing is for salads.

My head was spinning. I kept saying to myself, “You are selling out...I can’t believe you are making ranch sauce to give out with pizza...YOU’RE SICK!”

That's when I saw it sitting on the shelf in all of its glory.

The razor blades to my candy apple.

Monosodium glutamate, MSG.

I stood hypnotisied by the MSG tractor beam and at that moment, like a siren, the voice of Glenn Danzig in the wind whispered, “I remember Halloween, this day anything goes…”

Like a mad scientist, I sprinkled a healthy dose into my ranch sauce cauldron.

Channeling my inner Dr. Frankenstein, I wanted to scream, “IT’S ALIVE.”  

And in that moment, NEVERLAND RANCH SAUCE was born.

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