Our story begins in Mexico City, but not just anywhere: it begins in the lands once walked by the Mexica people, where the volcanoes Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhuatl watch over us from the heights, and where ancestral heritage still breathes among hills, markets, and ancient paths.

Although I was born in Mexico City, I grew up in Ayotla, State of Mexico, a Nahuatl name that means "place where turtles abound," and from a young age, I knew I lived in a place with its own story. Behind my house there was a hill with ancient trails. It wasn’t a place I climbed on my own; my father used to go running there, and on some occasions he carried me on his shoulders.

Through him, I came to know those paths, seeing the hill from his steady stride and remembering the way we moved through its trails. From that hill you couldn’t see the ancient Lake Texcoco, but once you descended, you could walk directly toward the lands where the Mexica people once traveled. That is where my connection began with those ancestral routes that shaped our origin. Living there meant having history in front of me every day: the volcanoes at sunrise, the hills surrounding the town, the natural cliffs in the landscape, and that feeling of belonging to something much older than us.

That's where I understood that Mexico is not only lived: it is inherited.

My maternal great-grandmother was the root of our culinary lineage. My maternal grandparents continued that tradition, and my mother and father inherited that gift and transformed it into a kitchen that spoke for itself: in aromas, in seasoning, and in fire.

And now, more than three decades later, my wife and I begin this new stage, keeping alive the family tradition that gave us identity and flavor.

At home we enjoyed all sports, but the ones that dominated were boxing and, of course, lucha libre. My father had been a boxer in his youth, and that strong, disciplined spirit was always present.

My grandfather, at one point in his life, was a lucha libre promoter, connected to one of the many businesses he operated. That's why lucha libre wasn’t just a spectacle— it was part of our family identity.

Every Sunday morning, my mother, my father, my brother, and I watched sports together. But the afternoon had only one owner: Mexican lucha libre. And if that Sunday we visited my grandmother, her television was also on, showing the Arena México matches. It was a family tradition, something that united us and deeply marked my childhood.

My heroes were not foreign characters. My heroes were our national giants: El Santo, El Enmascarado de Plata, Octagón, Blue Demon, Rayo de Jalisco, Máscara Sagrada, Mil Máscaras, Atlantis, Blue Panther, Tinieblas.

They were my superheroes. They taught me strength, pride, and a Mexican heart. With time, our entire family emigrated to the United States, specifically to the state of Texas. Lucha libre was no longer on every corner like in Mexico, but my memories were. I never stopped looking for it, because it was my connection to childhood, to my family, to Mexico, to the Mexica land that always called me.

And now, with more than three decades in the food industry, I know that the call of my land was the beginning of this path. More than 35 years loving heat taught me that every salsa has its own personality. Every salsa tells a story. Every salsa wrestles for its place at the table. That's why, when Mexica Foods was born, we decided to honor everything we were, everything we are, and everything we hope to leave as a legacy.

Each salsa would have a character. Each character would be a luchador. Each luchador would be the guardian of flavor, a modern Mexica warrior representing its essence.

That's how Fuego was born— the luchador who protects and represents Salsa Fuego, intense, brave, and full of character. And that's how Capitán Habanero came to be the defender of Salsa Habanero, firm, strong, fiery, with a heat that never asks for permission.

And so it will continue: each salsa, a warrior; each bottle, a story; each flavor, a part of our roots.

Mexica Foods is not just a product. It is memory. It is lineage. It is heritage. It is the flavor born in Ayotla, under the watch of the volcanoes, near the lands once crossed by the Mexica people, among families who eat together and fight together. It is 100% Mexican tradition, with the Mexica heart beating strong... in every bottle.