By Charlie Pogacar

What do you do when your pizzeria makes a mistake, one that affects dozens of people in your community? It’s a question Cale and Caitlin Ryan, owners of Famous Yeti’s in Stoughton, Wisconsin, were recently faced with. 

After accidentally serving THC-infused pizza, the Ryans decided to be as transparent as possible, communicating early and often with the public. Notably, this went against some unofficial legal advice they’d received—but it was the approach that made the most sense to them as both business owners and members of the Stoughton community. 

Here’s how the nightmare scenario came to be: On Tuesday, October 22, the team at Famous Yeti’s was making dough. After running out of oil, a team member went looking for more in a neighboring shared commissary kitchen and nabbed what appeared to be a bottle of canola oil. One problem: There was a small label on the bottle denoting that it actually belonged to a different business, one that makes THC-infused edible products derived from Delta-9, which is legal in Wisconsin. The team member didn’t notice the label and finished prepping 60 dough balls and stowed them away for an overnight ferment. 

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Cale Ryan has owned Famous Yeti’s, alongside his wife, Caitlin, since 2012. (Famous Yeti’s)

The next day, Famous Yeti’s unwittingly sold dozens of pizzas with THC-infused dough to its customers. A report from Public Health Madison & Dane County, released in December, estimated that more than 100 people ingested some of the pizza, and that about 85 of them felt side effects. Those affected ranged in age from 1–91, and at least three people spent the night at a local hospital.  

News came down the next day. In an odd turn of events, Cale Ryan was at another restaurant he owns in town, Wendigo, doing a walkthrough with a health inspector when he got a call from the fire department. The firemen had received a report from preschool teachers with symptoms consistent with potential carbon monoxide poisoning, and they wanted to come by Famous Yeti’s to inspect the shop. As more reports began to trickle in, Ryan started connecting the dots in his head. 

“So I called [over to Famous Yeti’s] and told them to shut everything down,” Ryan said. “Because I was there when the dough was being made, I realized what happened. Then it came out that somebody had tested positive for THC, and I was, like, oh, no, this is not good.” 

For more than 12 years, Famous Yeti’s has been a pillar in the Stoughton community, which is made up of about 13,000 people. Cale and Caitlin Ryan are raising four children there—they personally knew many of the customers who had been affected. 

As stories began to pour in, the Ryans couldn’t help but be emotionally impacted by each and every one. Those who felt the effects were toddlers and elderly. They were teachers hosting parent-teacher conferences, parents on their way back home, food vendors who regularly drop supplies off at Famous Yeti’s. They were everyday people, just wanting to grab some pizza and go about their day. 

Putting their business interests aside and determined to do what was right, the Ryans sprang into action. “Our goal was to be honest and forthright and to work with whoever we needed to work with,” Ryan said. “We reached out to the police and were basically like, whatever you guys need to know [we will tell you]. We closed down the rest of the day Thursday and then Friday. And this wasn’t required, but we sanitized everything in the restaurant and threw out all of the products that could have possibly been involved.” 

After working to establish what had happened with employees and local officials, the Ryans—who have no lawyer on retainer—sought unofficial legal advice from people in their orbit who happened to be attorneys. What they were told didn’t sit right with them. 

“A lot of the advice we got was to not say anything and to kind of like… bunker down,” Ryan said. “And we’ve honestly been rejecting a lot of the legal advice because we just don’t think it’s right. I mean, it might come back to bite us. But I think me and my wife both decided we would rather feel good about the situation than worry about [what we weren’t telling people].” 

On Thursday, October 24—less than 24 hours after Ryan had received the initial call from the fire department—the pizzeria issued a statement on social media. It explained what had happened and that the pizzeria was cooperating with any and all investigations. The Ryans took full responsibility for what had happened. They didn’t blame another business or a team member. As owners, the buck stopped with them. 

“We want to assure you that all affected products have been destroyed,” the statement said. “Famous Yeti’s is working closely with local authorities to improve our storage and security protocols to prevent this from happening again and to guarantee the safety of our customers. We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience or harm caused.” 

Local, regional and even national news outlets seized on the story. THC-infused pizza? For those who had little other context, the jokes wrote themselves. Suddenly, an otherwise successful pizzeria in smalltown Wisconsin had become a national punchline. Not everyone was laughing, though. 

“It just spread like wildfire,” Ryan said. “Everyone had an opinion. Our email exploded, the phone exploded, people somehow got ahold of my cell phone number. And I was just like, I don’t even know how to respond to a lot of this stuff. It was really surreal, and the whole time we just really wanted to do the right thing while also dealing with everything that was going on.” 

Cale Ryan credits his wife, Caitlin—who works in nonprofit marketing—with helping to take control of the situation early on. She helped compile the statements the pizzeria was issuing, and she also helped field inquiries from the public. She even set up an email inbox dedicated to letting people tell their story of what happened to them after ingesting the pizza.

As one might expect, the owners received a wide range of feedback from the community in the wake of the mix-up. Some were mad, while others were sympathetic and understanding. 

Comments on the pizzeria’s Facebook posts give a sampling of what the Ryans were hearing: Some people wanted to see the Ryans criminally charged (authorities have said they will not be). Others wanted health code violations (the public health report concluded no citation should be issued). Other commenters turned it into a joke or an opportunity to sound off on their feelings about THC. 

But an overwhelming number of commenters and customers supported the Ryans, saying the business had simply made a mistake, albeit a mistake that affected a great number of people in the community. But Famous Yeti’s had spent 12 years establishing credibility with its customer base, and, for the most part, those who knew the Ryans believed they had good intentions. 

“The support from the community has been great,” Ryan said. “Even the people who were affected were coming in the next week to buy a pizza and say, ‘I know this place. I know this was a mistake. We are going to continue to support you guys.’ It was really overwhelmingly positive in person. People were coming up and giving me hugs. I’ve gotten to know these people really well over the years. So that stuff really meant a lot.” 

From what Ryan understands, those affected by the incident will have up to two years to file a lawsuit against Famous Yeti’s. While nobody has done that yet, Ryan knows he and the business aren’t out of the woods yet. He’s committed to taking it one day at a time—and to continue to be as transparent as possible with the Stoughton community. 

“Our entire ethos has always been to be a part of this community that we call home,” Ryan said. “And to betray that in a way was very, very hard for me. It still is hard. So it was important to us to just say, hey, we did wrong. We want to earn your trust back. We’re not going away, we’re going to try and do what we can.” 

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