She wasn’t a CEO or a culinary influencer. Rosie was Maxwell’s grandmother in every way but blood. For over 60 years, she was the steady, loving force at the heart of his family—raising his father, nurturing Maxwell and his sister from kindergarten to adulthood, and doing it all with a quiet strength and wisdom that doesn’t show up in recipe books. Her cooking wasn’t flashy, but it was unforgettable. She cooked everything from scratch, with cast iron, real ingredients, and an intentionality that’s rare in today’s kitchens.
When Maxwell moved to California, he carried the flavors of Lancaster County, the potato chip capital of the world, with him–the memories of the kettle-cooked, lard-fried crunch and shelves full of small, regional brands. Once in California, where health food reigns supreme, he began to question the ingredients behind the local fare and to search for something better. That curiosity led him down a rabbit hole of cooking fats—ghee, olive oil, avocado oil—but it was beef tallow, rich in flavor and loaded with nourishment, that felt like the sweet spot.
He started with an electric countertop fryer, crafting one batch at a time in his tiny apartment. Friends and neighbors took notice. The flavor was undeniable. But the name? That part was easy. Rosie.
Her legacy deserved to be honored, and his brand would carry it forward. Everything about Rosie’s is designed to embody the kind of kitchen she ran: clean, rich in tradition, and filled with warmth.
Though Maxwell was new to the snack world, his father connected him with chip experts back in PA. After eight months of tuning the recipe and mastering the nuances of frying potatoes at scale, Rosie’s Chips came to life. Crisp, golden, cooked in 100% grass-fed tallow, and seasoned with microplastic-free Vera Salt sourced from ancient seabeds in Spain. There’s nothing else like it on the market. And unlike so many snack brands that outsource production to co-packers, Rosie’s Chips are made by hand in downtown Los Angeles by a tight-knit crew who labor over the details of every batch. Often, the chips are still warm when they’re sealed in the bag.
It’s a level of care that Rosie herself would have insisted on.
In June of 2025, Rosie passed away at 103 years old. A full life. A quiet legend. And though she never asked for recognition, her legacy now lives on in every bag. Maxwell says it best: “We would never put a subpar product under her name. This is about doing it right, for her, and for every family who deserves better.” Visit their website at rosieschips.com.
