Schuylkill County Hot Pizza Sauce

 The Skook Sweet-Heat

Centiole's in Giradville

Imagine living your entire life assuming pizza is always served with a side of hot sauce. If you were raised in a handful of coal-region towns in Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania—and never left—you probably did. That’s because for more than 70 years, pizzerias in Girardville, Ashland, Shenandoah, and Frackville have automatically tossed a free cup of spicy sauce into every pizza box.

And I’m not talking about Tabasco, Frank’s RedHot, or even a fra diavolo. I mean a cup of sweet pizza sauce with a kick. And get this, it’s served cold.

This culinary tradition is unique to North of the Mountain—the colloquial name locals use for these towns along Blue Mountain. No one remembers the first-time pizza was served with cold hot sauce. For them the sky is blue. Water’s wet and pizza comes with hot sauce. It’s just the way it is.

The Hot Sauce Experience

Centiole’s in Girardville, in the heart of the anthracite fields, never hesitates to toss an extra cup of their homemade hot sauce to regulars when asked. In the fifteen minutes I waited for my freshly baked pie, every person who walked in asked for a second—with good reason. Thick and hearty, almost like a loose tomato paste, the sauce carries a muted sweetness with a slow, lasting heat. Served at room temperature, it’s meant to be drizzled over a piping-hot, well-charred slice—not dipped.

The Sweet Pizzz Square Cut

In Frackville, Sweet Pizzz stays true to its name, serving a sugary, tomato-forward pizza—the de facto style of the region—though traditional sauce is also available. Straight-up sweet-sauce pizza can be an acquired taste, but a douse of their zesty hot pizza sauce brings balance to every bite. When in Rome, right?

The only slice shop of my trip, their thick, square-cut pie is cheesy and airy with a satisfying crunch—but it’s the slow-cooked, pepper-flake-forward hot sauce, flecked with oregano and chunks of onion and tomato, that steals the show. It's made daily in a large cauldron in the back.

A block down the street, another local favorite, The Pizza Place, has been making sweet-sauce pizza and strombolis since 1988. Their complimentary hot sauce leans more sugary than spicy, consistent with the base sauce but with just enough added heat to justify the name.

In neighboring Shenandoah, The Pizza Shop serves the spiciest sauce of the bunch, offering it in larger to-go cups. Owner Mike Creasy proudly displays his fandom for the Buffalo Bills at his shop, so it makes sense this bold, deeply red sauce could double as a perfect game-day dip.

What fascinates me most about this tradition is how invisible it is to the people who grew up with it. More than one local told me they had no idea the hot sauce was unique to their town until they traveled and asked for it elsewhere—only to be handed a bottle of vinegar-based hot sauce instead.

This is just my list, a small sampling. Nearly every pizza shop in the area includes a complimentary cup of hot sauce with a pie, and each version will undoubtedly be slightly different. They’re all worth trying. Your favorite probably won't be my favorite —and that’s kind of the point.

The Pizza Style Capital

For years, Old Forge has marketed itself as the Pizza Capital of the Country—that's debatable. But when you pull back and look at Northeastern Pennsylvania as a whole, it’s hard to deny what’s happening here. OF cuts. Sweet-sauce trays. Fried Sicilian. Hazleton pitza. And now, this hot-sauce micro-tradition tucked into the Skook.

Jim Mirabelli's been telling this to other for years. Click on his review that inspired this trip. NEPA pizza review