Many years ago I created, developed, perfected and marketed Wiggly® Brand Mayonnaise — the richest, creamiest, wiggliest mayonnaise in the south.

I made the mayonnaise myself; the first experimental batch I made in the bathtub turned out chunky and too yellow. After that (and following my wife’s accident), I was forced to move my mayonnaise lab down to the basement. It was trial and error for the first couple of months as I tried to find new and exciting ways to improve and invigorate mayonnaise. But once I perfected it and got it just right it was beautiful. So thick you could lay on it. I knew I had created a mayonnaise that would go far beyond being a condiment for food. The applications of Wiggly® Brand Mayonnaise would be endless…

I bottled it in mason jars and sold it out of my home. Once word of mouth about my mouthwatering mayonnaise spread all around town, I started selling it at the farmer’s market. Soon I had the grocers and druggists begging me to let them sell my mayonnaise. That meant I had to make much more mayonnaise.

During the summer months I recruited some strapping young interns from the schoolhouse. I couldn’t pay those young lads much (a dollar a day plus all the mayonnaise they could carry home in their pockets) but I was able to give them the one thing they wanted most: Sense of Accomplishment. For me, it was more than just male bonding and mayonnaise in my sweltering hot basement. That was probably the best summer of their lives.

Soon I worked out a distribution deal with Piggly Wiggly supermarkets to test out Wiggly® Brand Mayonnaise at half a dozen of their stores in Tennessee and Kentucky. Unfortunately, Big Mayonnaise — Hellmann’s, Blueplate, Duke’s, Zippy’s, Gold Medal and, of course, the behemoth of them all: Kraft and their vile Miracle Whip [1] — ran me out of town.

The big food companies pretty much dictate how much supermarket shelf space is made available for all products, not just their own. Especially mayonnaise! I got about six inches on the bottom shelf, barely enough space for a single jar-wide row, and close enough to the floor where the cleaning crew’s floor scrubbers and waxers would dirty up my mayonnaise mason jars on a nightly basis.

I never had a fighting chance. I only sold a few cases and after just three months Piggly Wiggly sent me packing. That was the beginning of the end. The dark days of mayonnaise had come.

I still make mayonnaise for my own consumption and for gifts (look out Secret Santa!) but I’m out of the mayonnaise selling business for good. Too many bad mayonnaise memories.

Those were the golden days of mayonnaise, long before mayonnaise culture was sullied by cheap gimmicks like light mayonnaise, vegenaise (who could love you?), and wide-mouth jars. Back then it was about the mayonnaise.

Ask me anything about my mayonnaise business or about mayonnaise in general. I consider myself an expert on the subject. I’ll even share my mayonnaise inclusive recipes (like my triple fudge mayonnaise cake made with real mayonnaise!). Mayonnaise has limitless uses beyond food. Ask me about what mayonnaise can do for you.


Have a question about mayonnaise? Ask me anything about mayonnaise!

Want to make Wiggly Mayonnaise at home? Here’s the recipe!

10 Comments

  1. Seal Mac says:

    Yeah! Great writing, continue to keep up the terrific job. This is the sort of knowledge that ought to gain worldwide recognition for it’s workmanship. A lot more internet writers need to learn from you. This is right on the money — err — mayonnaise!

  2. Ori says:

    Grandpa, I have a great fondness for individuals such as yourself who actually write blogs instead of posting link spam or reposting the stuff of others (like the landfill that is Tumblr).

  3. Dennis Vo says:

    I would like to start a mayonnaise business. I want to take risks and promote my mom’s cooking skills.

    Could you let me know how much you think it will cost in 3 years?

    Thank you!

    Dennis

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