When I moved here from the East Coast, I was convinced nobody in California cared about sports. On Sundays, there was a serious void in my heart watching football alone. 

I thought back to what my grandfather did to get everybody in the neighborhood together. He’d make a sauce — your standard, red Italian sauce with meatballs and sausage. There was actually nothing standard about it. 

As a kid, I’d watch him walk out the front door, sauce pot in hand, bread for dipping. The neighbors would come running. He stood there smiling as they sang his praises. 

So on Sundays, I started making that same sauce that stirred up my neighborhood as a kid, and the football spectators in my house grew and grew. Now, I’m selling jars (and merch) in hopes they bring the people you love together, too.