The Origin

Picante Malcriado is an assault on the senses; it’s two slaps to the face and a kick in the backside with every forkful you dare to savour. It is a braggart that shows off at the table with a bright red face, pushes the salt and pepper aside, and stares you straight in the eyes with a provocative smile as if to say:

- Do you dare?

But you don’t dare, how could you? You know its name and little else. You don’t know that it grew up in the countryside on verdant plains, that in the shade of a mountain by the riverbank, it woke up every day with the sun warming its dewy skin and the buzzing of the bees that were its companions. No one told you that one day, under a burning, intense sun, it abandoned the calm of its home and embarked on a journey. Its vessel was a barrel that navigated salty seas of brandy for over a year in hellish heat, and watched as the fully-grown Picante Malcriado disembarked. You may not know that the rebellious and provocative spirit of someone who wants to introduce you to the wonders of the spicy worlds they discovered, hides within them an altruism and devotion of someone willing to give their all, to the very last drop, just to satisfy you. You may know none of this, but at that moment at the table, when you look at it and it looks at you, the volume of the conversation around you seems to fade, your focus narrows ever more on its red and vain body, and you find yourself saying:

- I dare!