Pork Roll Politics:  Jack Ciattarelli’s Jersey Grit Takes Center Stage as the Governor’s Race Turns Sizzling Hot

By: Russ Spencer

The battle for New Jersey’s governor’s mansion has taken on a distinctly local flavor — and the aroma of pork roll sizzling on a griddle.

Republican contender Jack Ciattarelli, flipping slices of the Garden State’s most beloved breakfast meat on a portable stove in the parking lot of MetLife Stadium, turned a tailgate party into a political rally this week, using humor, nostalgia, and culinary bravado to define himself as the true “Jersey guy” in a race that has suddenly tightened to a statistical dead heat.

As The New York Post reported on Saturday, Ciattarelli’s campaign stop at the “Turnpike Tussle” — the rivalry game between the New York Giants and Philadelphia Eagles — wasn’t just a stunt. It was a statement. “These are ready! Where’s our rolls?” he shouted to the crowd, flipping hot slices with a spatula as fans cheered. “We owned a restaurant! We know what to do!”

The moment captured everything Ciattarelli’s campaign wants voters to see: a hands-on, blue-collar Republican who talks as comfortably with football fans as he does with small business owners, blending populism with the pragmatism that once made New Jersey’s Republican Party competitive in its deep-blue terrain.

But behind the sizzling charm offensive is a sharply drawn contrast — and an escalating political brawl with his Democratic rival, Rep. Mikie Sherrill, that has turned personal, bitter, and, as The New York Post report noted, “as Jersey as it gets.”

Two days before his tailgate tour-de-force, Ciattarelli ignited what The Post cheekily dubbed “the pork roll controversy” during a rally in Manahawkin, a coastal town known for its saltwater air and straight talk.

“She wants you to think she’s a Jersey girl,” Ciattarelli said, his voice booming through the restaurant’s dining room packed with roughly 300 supporters. “But doesn’t that thing she did the other day on pork rolls prove different?”

The “thing” he referenced was Sherrill’s lighthearted but ill-fated quip that “the name ‘pork roll’ is gross — it should only be called Taylor ham.” For many New Jerseyans, the pork roll vs. Taylor ham divide is sacrosanct, a culinary Mason-Dixon line separating the north and south.

Ciattarelli pounced, calling her remark “blasphemy” and branding it proof that Sherrill — born in Alexandria, Virginia, and a New Jersey resident only since 2010 — was “a transplant masquerading as a local.”

“New Jersey doesn’t need another imported governor,” he said, channeling The New York Post’s headline-grabbing flair for political theater. “We’ve seen this before — they brought in Jon Corzine from Illinois. That didn’t work out. Then Phil Murphy from Massachusetts. That’s not working out either. So how about we elect the Jersey guy?”

The crowd erupted. “The Ciattarellis have been here for over 100 years,” he thundered. “Three generations of us have owned businesses and achieved our American dream right here in New Jersey.”

According to the information provided in The New York Post report, Ciattarelli’s campaign has gained palpable energy in recent weeks. Polls show him neck and neck with Sherrill, even as Democrats outnumber Republicans statewide by nearly 900,000 registered voters. His grassroots energy — underscored by 25 campaign stops in a single week — has startled veteran operatives who once dismissed his bid as quixotic.

“He’s everywhere,” said one longtime Republican strategist quoted by The Post. “Parades, churches, diners, boardwalks — he’s making it impossible to ignore him.”

The Post followed Ciattarelli across the state as he pressed flesh and delivered his message: lower taxes, safer streets, an end to cashless bail, and a return to “common sense.”

“We’re going to get government workers back to their offices,” Ciattarelli declared at a rally in Nutley’s Mamma Vittoria catering hall. “No more remote work. And we’re ending sanctuary cities. The rule of law is back.”

The crowd, about 300 strong, cheered loudest when he promised to reverse the state’s plastic bag ban. “I can say I’m lowering taxes — I get a nice round of applause,” he said with a grin. “But when I say I’m bringing back plastic bags, it brings down the house every time!”

But as The New York Post reported, the campaign’s carnival energy turned combative on Wednesday night during the second televised debate. What began as sharp policy exchanges quickly devolved into personal attacks that left even seasoned political observers stunned.

Sherrill accused Ciattarelli of having “blood on his hands,” claiming his former medical publishing company had “profited off misinformation about opioids,” contributing to what she called “tens of thousands of deaths.”

The Post described the moment as “one of the most explosive exchanges in recent New Jersey political memory.”

Ciattarelli’s face tightened. “That’s an outrageous lie,” he fired back. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

He then turned the attack back on Sherrill, alluding to controversy over her military record. “I got to walk at my college graduation,” he said, in what The Post called “a surgically delivered jab” — referencing reports that Sherrill had missed hers while serving in the Navy.

The two clashed over everything from the federal shutdown to Donald Trump to the state’s crushing property taxes, but the most striking moment came when both — in rare agreement — vowed to keep New Jersey the only state where drivers can’t pump their own gas.

If Sherrill’s challenge to Ciattarelli’s policy credentials has been fierce, Ciattarelli has countered with a relentless push to claim the cultural soul of the state.

As The New York Post report noted, his speeches often blend humor with a tough-guy populism that channels old-school Jersey swagger. In one rally, he joked that the first call he’d make as governor would be to United Airlines’ CEO, demanding that pilots stop greeting passengers landing at Newark Airport with “Welcome to New York.”

“When you land in New Jersey,” Ciattarelli said, “it’s going to say, ‘Welcome to New Jersey.’”

He has also promised to impose “reverse congestion pricing” on New York drivers entering New Jersey — unless Gov. Kathy Hochul scraps Manhattan’s controversial $9 toll for drivers entering below 60th Street. “You want to charge us to come into Manhattan? Fine. We’ll charge you to come here,” he told a crowd in Wildwood, to raucous applause.

Ciattarelli’s biography reads like a postcard from mid-century Americana — and, as The New York Post report emphasized, he knows it. Born in Somerville and raised in Raritan, his parents owned a bar and restaurant. A grandson of Italian immigrants, Ciattarelli built his own publishing business from scratch, earning millions but cultivating an image closer to diner counter than corner office.

After selling his company, Galen Publishing, in 2017, Ciattarelli leaned into politics full-time. He served on local councils and county boards before representing Hunterdon County in the State Assembly for seven years. Though once a critic of both Trump and former Gov. Chris Christie, Ciattarelli now proudly touts Trump’s endorsement — a badge of authenticity for many conservative voters in South and Central Jersey.

“The man bleeds Jersey,” one supporter told The New York Post outside MetLife Stadium. “You can smell it — and it smells like pork roll.”

At MetLife, the energy was electric. Giants fans swarmed him, phones out for selfies as he handed out hot sandwiches. “He’s incredible!” said Susan Christopoulos of Morris Plains, clutching a foil-wrapped Ciattarelli pork roll sandwich. “I’m definitely voting for him.”

Her friend, Wendy Hamlin, a health insurance broker from Lincoln Park, was equally enthusiastic. “I am so aligned with everything he stands for,” she said.

Not everyone agreed on breakfast terminology, though. “He’s not allowed to call it pork roll up here,” laughed Toni Anne Raymond of Hawthorne. “North Jersey is Taylor ham country.”

Still, The Post noted, Ciattarelli laughed along. “Across the board, it’s been great,” he told a reporter. “No matter who you root for — Mets, Yankees, Giants, Eagles — people want change.”

The campaign’s intensity now seems to rise by the day. After Wednesday’s fiery debate, Ciattarelli’s campaign emailed supporters announcing plans to file a defamation lawsuit against Sherrill for her opioid accusations — a move that, according to The New York Post report, underscores how personal and high-stakes the race has become.

“Her claims were reckless, defamatory, and false,” said Ciattarelli strategist Chris Russell. “She crossed a line.”

Sherrill’s campaign fired back almost immediately, accusing Ciattarelli of “hiding behind a lawsuit” and “refusing to take responsibility.”

But even as his legal team prepared its response, Ciattarelli was back on the trail. That same evening, he drove to North Bergen, where longtime Democratic power broker Nicholas Sacco — a former state senator and mayor — endorsed him, becoming the fourth Democratic mayor to cross party lines.

“The welfare and well-being of our residents are more important than party lines,” Sacco said, as The Post reported. “Jack is someone who listens, who delivers, and who gets it.”

With less than a month until Election Day, The New York Post report described Ciattarelli’s campaign as “a locomotive of momentum,” powered by humor, local identity, and unfiltered authenticity.

He may be running in one of the most Democratic states in the nation, but Ciattarelli is betting on something quintessentially New Jersey — attitude.

He’s betting that voters, weary of career politicians and coastal elites, will rally behind a candidate who can flip pork rolls, tailgate with fans, and talk taxes in the same breath.

He’s betting that, in a state that prides itself on being “tough, scrappy, and self-made,” authenticity still matters.

And if The Post’s front-page photos of him — sleeves rolled up, spatula in hand — are any indication, he’s betting that the road to Trenton runs through the diner counter, the parking lot, and the heart of New Jersey itself.

“People all across New Jersey want change,” Ciattarelli told The New York Post after his MetLife Stadium event, his voice hoarse from the campaign trail but unmistakably confident. “And they want someone who’s one of them. That’s who I am.”

As The Post dryly observed in its Sunday headline: “Jack’s in the Kitchen — and Sherrill’s Feeling the Heat.”