You’ve probably seen them. Those neon-red, suspiciously sweet little orbs perched on top of a hot fudge sundae or swimming at the bottom of a Shirley Temple. For decades, Dell Maraschino Cherries Brooklyn NY was the powerhouse behind that nostalgia. If you ate at a TGI Fridays, a Chick-fil-A, or a Red Lobster anywhere in America, you were likely eating a cherry processed in a nondescript brick warehouse in Red Hook.
But honestly, the story of this factory is way weirder than just fruit processing. It’s a New York tale that feels like it was written for a prestige TV drama. One minute you're talking about family tradition and high-fructose corn syrup; the next, you're looking at one of the biggest drug busts in the history of the Five Boroughs.
The Cherry King and the Red Hook Legacy
The company started small. Real small. Arthur Mondella Sr. and his son Ralph opened the doors in 1948 in a tiny 1,500-square-foot shop. They were just Brooklyn guys with a passion for cherries. By the time the third generation, Arthur Mondella, took over, the business had exploded.
Arthur was known as the "Cherry King." Under his watch, the factory at 175 Dikeman Street grew into a 38,000-square-foot behemoth. We're talking about a facility that processed upwards of 19 million pounds of fruit a year.
Mondella was obsessed with automation. He poured millions into the plant. He wanted it to be the most advanced cherry processing facility in the world. And to his neighbors and employees, he was a hero. He hired people who couldn't find work elsewhere, including ex-offenders. He gave loans to his staff and didn't always ask for them back. He was the quintessential local businessman.
Until the bees started turning red.
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Why the Bees Gave It Away
Around 2010, beekeepers in Brooklyn started noticing something freaky. Their bees weren't producing golden honey. They were producing a weird, bright red goo that tasted like metallic cough syrup.
An apiculturist took a look and found Red Dye #40 in the honey. That’s the exact same dye Dell’s used for their cherries. The bees were skipping the flowers and headed straight for the factory's vats of syrup.
This sparked an investigation. Initially, the city was just looking into environmental violations. They thought the factory was dumping hazardous waste or syrup into the local sewers. But Arthur was protective. He was nervous. Every time the Department of Environmental Protection (DEP) or the District Attorney’s office came sniffing around, things got tense.
The Breaking Bad Moment
In February 2015, the authorities showed up with a warrant. They weren't even looking for drugs yet. They were looking for evidence of illegal dumping.
They spent five hours scouring the place. Then, an investigator noticed something off. In a storage area, there were shelves on wheels held together by magnets. Behind those shelves was a false wall.
When they moved the wall, the smell hit them. It wasn't cherries anymore. It was marijuana.
What was hidden downstairs:
- A 2,500-square-foot underground bunker.
- 120 high-powered grow lamps.
- An irrigation system that would make a professional farmer jealous.
- Roughly 100 pounds of weed and 60 different strains of seeds.
- A secret office with $125,000 in cash.
- Luxury cars, including a Porsche and a Rolls-Royce.
The most bizarre detail? On the bookshelf next to the grow manuals was a copy of the World Encyclopedia of Organized Crime.
As the investigators realized the scale of the operation—estimated to be worth $10 million a year—Arthur Mondella asked to use the bathroom. He walked in, told his sister through the door to "take care of my kids," and took his own life.
Is Dell Maraschino Cherries Still Around?
You might think a scandal that big would kill a business. It didn't.
After the tragedy, Arthur’s daughters, Dominique Mondella and Dana Mondella Bentz, took the reins. They turned it into a Women-Owned Business. They kept the machines running.
They had to distance themselves from the "Breaking Bad" stigma. They pivoted hard toward sustainability and "green" initiatives. Today, the company is still a major player in the food service world. They handle private labeling for huge retailers and continue to supply those iconic cherries to restaurants across the country.
They even have their own cogeneration facility to generate their own heat and electricity. It’s a far cry from the days of secret generators and hidden bunkers.
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What This Means for Brooklyn Business
The Dell story is a reminder of how complex family legacies can be. It's a mix of genuine success and a secret life that went off the rails.
If you're looking for Dell Maraschino Cherries today, you can find them in 6-ounce jars at the grocery store or in massive 64-ounce tubs for restaurants. They’ve managed to survive one of the most insane scandals in New York history.
Actionable Takeaways if You’re a Local Business Follower:
- Check the label: If you see a cherry in a jar that says "Processed in Brooklyn," it’s almost certainly from that Dikeman Street facility.
- Support the pivot: The company is now a certified Women-Owned Business and has focused heavily on SQF (Safe Quality Food) certification and sustainability.
- Visit Red Hook: You can't tour the factory, but walking past the brick facade on Dikeman Street gives you a real sense of the scale of old-school Brooklyn manufacturing.
The "Cherry King" is gone, but the cherries remain. It's a weird, sweet, and slightly dark part of Brooklyn's identity that isn't going anywhere.
To understand the current state of the company, you can look into their latest SQF certification reports or check their sustainability audits, which are publicly touted as part of their rebranding to move past the 2015 incident. If you're a distributor, verify their OU Kosher and Halal certifications, which remain active under the new leadership.