He traded Atlanta restaurants for a beach shack. He’s never been happier.
TYBEE ISLAND ― The Inferno Hot Sauce Emporium is the type of shop you wander in to only to get lost in — even though the store measures just seven steps deep and five across.
Hundreds of bottles of hot sauce and meat rubs line the exterior walls. “Colon Cleanser,” reads one label; “Dark Side of the Pepper,” another. There’s one shaped like a hand grenade; another bears a white-sheet-ghost novelty trinket over the lid, denoting a ghost pepper sauce. A tasting table dares customers to try it before they buy it.
Jimmy Cliff plays on a vinyl turntable in one corner. In another sits the proprietor, a middle-aged man with an easy, sly smile that makes you think he knows something you don’t. Brian Hogan’s work uniform is board shorts, a ripped T-shirt with the sleeves cut off and a bright yellow trucker hat that reads CRISPY SHRIMP across the front.
Not so long ago, Hogan would have been found in the open kitchen of Shorty’s Pizza in Toco Hills or Tucker, or Pea Ridge Kitchen and Bar in Decatur, an apron across his front and a bandanna on his head. Restaurants were his life He became a general manager the day after he graduated from Georgia State with an accounting degree and started his own place half a year later.
Shorty’s became a neighborhood favorite under his leadership — he sold in 2013 at a profit — and in partnering with chef Patrick Dunn of Leon’s Full Service to open Pea Ridge in 2015, he’d “made it” in food service parlance.
But at a cost; the long work hours meant he’d missed much of the first five years of his son’s life. With first grade looming, and with it earlier bedtimes that conflicted with late restaurant nights, Hogan gave up the grind and moved to the beach.
“I love the restaurant business,” he said, “but I never figured out how to do it without working all the time. I wanted a simpler life.”
Turning summer vacations into everyday life
Tybee, the laid-back beach town a 20-mile drive east of Savannah, is a simple place Hogan was familiar with.
His mother’s family was from Savannah and owned a home on the island’s southern tip throughout Hogan’s childhood. Every summer, he fled Decatur for the coast to hang out with his cousins. They spent their days hunting for sharks’ teeth on the beach, exploring the seemingly endless waterways in a Jon boat with a notoriously fickle engine and fishing the tides.
Hogan wanted the same for his son. So in 2018, he and his wife, Emily Hogan (whose property management business allowed her to work remotely), moved their family into the vacation rental house they’d bought for cash from the Shorty’s sale five years earlier.
Hogan spent the next year reconnecting with the Tybee vibe of his childhood and being an involved parent to his son. And the same people skills that made him a successful entrepreneur helped him form strong bonds in the small seaside community.
“The move exceeded all expectations,” he said. “I’d never lived in a small community before, and I appreciate the tight-knit feel and the relationships you build.”
Overcoming occupational burnout to launch a new venture
He discovered many kindred spirits in his new home, such as Eric and Heather Thomas. They operate the Tybee equivalent of Shorty’s — Huc-A-Poo’s, a pizza parlor where service is not contingent on customers wearing shirts and shoes.
Hogan was introduced to Heather Thomas as a “burned-out” restaurateur from Atlanta, and she was drawn to his story.
“I was so impressed that he dumped everything he had ever known professionally to move here,” she said. “He epitomizes what makes Tybee a special place.”
Little did Hogan or the Thomases know, they’d eventually be neighbors. Huc-A-Poo’s shares a parking lot with several small retail shops known as Tybee Oaks. At the end closest to the pizza joint is Inferno.
In late 2019, the shop’s owner went looking for a buyer. Another island small-business owner encouraged Hogan to take Inferno over, citing the low barrier to entry — an inexpensive lease and small inventory.
Hogan had never worked retail before, but he knew food and had fermented sauces and pickled vegetables in his time at Pea Ridge. He bought the store in February 2020.
The COVID-19 pandemic led to a short-term closure, but business surged when Georgia was among the first states to reopen and cabin-fevered vacationers turned sleepy Tybee into a boomtown.
Hogan’s secret sauce
The early success allowed Hogan to expand his offerings and grow his eponymous product line, which now numbers 15 hot sauces, 18 rubs and about a dozen types of pickled produce — many of them from his own recipes. He seeks out unique wares from craft makers across the country to fill out his shelves.
His logo merch — bearing a human skull with a chile pepper between its teeth and fire blazing from the eye sockets — adorns many a head and torso around the island.
The logo is more marketing than reality. Hogan is not a “hothead,” as those in the sauce world who value spicy heat above all else are known.
He still carries sauces “that people buy to punish their buddies back home.” Yet much of his business comes from home cooks seeking new flavor profiles and competitive barbecuers or chili makers who prefer to add a few dashes of sauce to their recipes rather than simmer down a host of peppers.
Inferno survives on repeat customers, both to the brick-and-mortar (more like wood-and-nail) shack and the e-commerce store. Among them are Don and Amanda Tawnley, who live an hour west of Tybee in the rural town of Brooklet. They go to the beach every weekend when the weather is pleasant and always stop at Inferno and Huc-A-Poo’s.
They said they keep an Inferno-only spice shelf in their pantry.
“He’s the type of guy you want to see succeed,” Don Tawnley said, “and his sauces and rubs are the best.”
Finding his work-life balance
Hogan is grateful for the loyal customers and the revenue they bring. But he acknowledges the limitations of a business that sells “$7 or $8 bottles of hot sauce on a small island” with a short, 4-month-long busy season.
One could argue that Inferno has made Hogan rich in ways that don’t appear on a business balance sheet. Hogan runs Inferno with help from a few part-time clerks — and if he has something going on and can’t find someone to cover, he closes for a few hours.
He coaches soccer and basketball at the island’s primary school; fishes with his son, who is about to enter high school; plays golf and disc golf with his buddies; and does handyman work around the island.
And on weekend afternoons, the shop’s front porch is a locals hangout reminiscent of Shorty’s bar back in the day. It’s the norm to find a dozen friends bellied up to a high-top table watching sports on a TV mounted to an eave.
“I had reservations about leaving restaurants behind, but it was the right decision,” he said.