Priest at center of Sabrina Carpenter video drama is selling olive oil, wine

New York Post

11-07-2025

He's peddling every Italian delicacy — except for Espresso.
The priest who was famously punished for allowing pop princess Sabrina Carpenter to film a racy music video at his Brooklyn church is now selling his own line of Italian delicacies at his parish's festival this weekend — and finally opened up about the unholy fiasco, telling The Post he was misled by the video's producers.
Monsignor Jamie Gigantiello introduced his 'A Taste of Heaven' olive oil and flight of wines on the opening day of the annual Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel in Williamsburg, marking the start of a new chapter since having to do penance for his decision to delve into the world of pop music.
7 Monsignor Jamie Gigantiello unveiled his olive oil and wines this week a the Feast of Mt. St. Carmel.
William C Lopez/New York Post
He told the Post that he allowed the pint-size songstress to film the video for her No. 1 pop hit 'Feather' at the storied church in 2023 after he was shown a script for the shoot — which he says failed to include the near biblical amount of violence and gore that was seen in the final product.
'I originally allowed it because it was another way that I thought I would be able to attract young people in the church. What they put on paper and showed me was not what they filmed in the church,' Gigantiello told The Post in the parish's rectory Friday.
'I regret that I allowed it, and I didn't oversee it more. But I believe also that the reaction was a little too much.'
The 2023 video featured the scantily-clad songstress standing at the altar of the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary Church between clips of her facilitating the death of several men, which unsurprisingly sent pearl-clutching shockwaves well beyond the Diocese of Brooklyn and Queens.
The 'Espresso' singer publicly defended the venue choice, saying: 'We got approval in advance … and Jesus was a Carpenter.' Her reps did not immediately return a request for comment.
7 Cooking and food are a way to bring people to the church's table, Giganteillo explained.
William C Lopez/New York Post
Gigantiello, 66, was demoted for allowing the debacle, and had his administrative duties as a pastor restricted. It was a punishment he implied was handed down by the 'church hierarchy' because he already had notoriety before the fiasco and they needed a fall guy.
'My face was all over, and then there was a price with that. Because when some people come in and they don't like it and they have authority, these things happen,' he continued.
'But I have to say, the people of the diocese, the people of the parish and the people in the civic community, are behind me 1,000%'
Now, the famous priest is continuing his mission to reach young people in more savory ways, particularly through his signature tomato sauce, olive oil and wine.
This time it's being well received.
7 Gigantiello is a Culinary Institute of America graduate.
William C Lopez/New York Post
'People love it. You know they're interested in it. Someone said, 'he's the new Martin Stewart,'' Gigantiello joked to The Post in the parish's rectory Friday.
Gigantiello has already been hawking his signature tomato sauce for roughly a year, a venture he started as a way to invite younger people to the church in a natural and comfortable manner.
Williamsburg has more millennials than any other zip code in the US, and Gigantiello has successfully drawn the age group into the faithful fold by appealing to their taste buds.
And he has the skillset for it — Gigantiello graduated from the Culinary Institute of America and worked as a professional chef and cooking teacher for a decade before he entered the seminary at age 30.
7 The priest first released his tomato sauce last summer.
William C Lopez/New York Post
7 A customer dubbed the priest as the 'new Martin Stewart.'
William C Lopez/New York Post
'To show hospitality to people is a Godsend because it opens up many doors. It's a way of saying that, 'You're important and I welcome you. Jesus was always eating in people's homes and welcoming people, and that's what we try to do here. We try to meet people where they're at. We're not trying to bang religion over their head or condemn everyone,' he explained.
Introducing the extra virgin olive oil, as well as his Amarone red and Pinot Grigio white wines, was a natural evolution, he explains.
Plus, the 'staples in Italian cuisine' are necessary ingredients for recipes in Gigantiello's upcoming cookbook, titled 'A Taste of Heaven from Brooklyn' after the condiment line.
The sauce retails for $10, while the olive oil and wine each go for $20 — but those looking for a discount can get the bundle for $45.
7 'They see the collar on a food product, it captures people's attention. That's something that I know makes a difference,' he said.
William C Lopez/New York Post
All three have a picture of Gigantiello in his priestly garb, which he says helps bring in the dough.
'They see the collar on a food product, it captures people's attention. That's something that I know makes a difference,' he said.
'I think my sauce is very, very good. Is it better than some others? I would say no. But people may have a tendency to buy mine because they see it's 'a taste of heaven.''
Dozens have already scooped up their packs on the first two days of the Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, the annual festival famous for Giglio, the 4-ton, 72-foot statue that is 'danced' through sweltering streets by a team of 120 men known as 'lifters.'
7 Gigantiello tells The Post he regrets not investigating the Sabrina Carpenter video more closely before he allowed them inside the church.
Sabrina Carpenter/YouTube
It's too soon to guess how much the ingredient line will reap, but Giganteillo said all the profits will benefit the St. Peter for Humanity Foundation, a charity that addresses the medical needs of poorer children across the globe, he says.
The famous priest will not take home a dime — even though he is technically allowed to.
Priests do not take a vow of charity like nuns or Franciscan monks, he explained, meaning they can own cars and homes like the $700,000 Southmapton house he owns with another Brooklyn pastor.
Making money for charity is just a plus, according to Gigantiello. The main point of peddling sauce, olive oil and wine is to bring his people to the table over a common thread: food.
Gigantiello hosts weekly Sunday dinners after mass, in particular for his younger parishoners, as a means of opening a door for their age group, saying: 'Saturday they go party. And Sunday morning, they're hungover, so Sunday night, let's go to church.'