My name is Dylan, and like everyone named Dylan I am an extremist. All or nothing. I’ve been a product designer, mechanical engineer, tree surgeon, apprentice trainer, beef jerky jockey and lately a hot sauce man.
I love vanlife, jewellery making, robotics, graphic design, motorbikes and most of all living to the full and accepting sometimes you have to be a jack of jack shit in order to learn. Why take the easy way when you can grow in the pure funk of life? It’s the compost of the soul.
A twist of fortune brought together three elements that led to me going into business:
- I’ve always loved blowing my arse clean off the hinges with spicy food
- A good friend enlightened me to beef jerky
- My aunt reckoned I should try working for myself
So I borrowed my mates dehydrator and rustled up some beef jerky to a pimped up youtube recipe and it turned out right on the money and I teamed up with Hodgehill butchery for the best quality local beef to really make the difference.
Bam – a fingersukkin’ naga recipe landed and I was going to be the British Beef Jerky don. Pumping out more recipe inventions and spinning up a protein-fueled adventure, I was away!
Drop: Just one problem, I live in the Black Country.
Trying to sell beef jerky to geezers & wenches raised on pork scratchings is like trying to sell a cheeseburger at a rave. Made everyone go cross-eyed 🤪
I watched locals try the jerky and the questions went the same way:
- Is it a scratching?
- No.
- Is it cooked?
- Not exactly…
- Eww, what the fuck do I do with it then??
- I dunno bab don’t look at me!
So yeah the jerky flopped & died quietly in the back of a pub in Stourbridge.
Turns out you can’t beat a bag of pork scratchings in the Black Country. Go break a tooth over that one 🦷
The Remix: Back in the jungle hut, amidst unsold prime beef being minced into burgers that the local nightlife didn’t have the stomach space to digest, something else was brewing. I took lessons from the jerky marinades and started mixing chillies with the same energy as the decks at a jungle party. So what – the toothless locals can’t chew on dried beef, but everyone loves blowing their chuffhole clean out of the park with some seriously spicy shit! So armed with this energy, I remixed the shit upside down 👇 I called it the James Brown Bumsplat Reversal.
The Reload: Swapping the dehydrator for a pot & a blender and cranking the spice levels past 160 BPM, Jungle Juice was born!
The vibe: Quality/Flavour/Vibes. No fucking around.
Inspired by the counterculture/Jungle scene, these sauces are loud, chaotic, and unapologetic. It’s like bottling the energy of a 3 AM reload and the literal insanity of the West Midlands just ready to redline and blow a head gasket whenever you get in that kind of a mood! The jungle never sleeps 🐒
‘Mild’ can go suck a fat one. No room for subtle. Just pure beast mode fire that hits you in the stomach like a double drop, shakes your skull like an amen breakbeat & fucks with your bowels like a heavy rasta stack bassline pumping out of a warehouse somewhere no mortal belongs at 5am. But we do it anyway, to step through the wardrobe from the common culture to the underground and hope to make it back in time for Monday.
Whether you’re a Junglist soldier or just trying to spice up your supper, this is the shit. Real JJ and no apologies whatsoever.
Too hot for the high street
This is for the heads, the ravers, and even the pork scratching munchers (it actually goes great on them).
Fuel your wild side!
Jungle Juice is here. It’s got rhythm. It’s got ties to the tribe.
Selecta, wheel it up
It’s a jungle out there!
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