IT STARTED WITH
CHILI OIL.

Lockdown. We ran out of chili oil.

Didn’t want to risk a trip to the shops — global pandemic, remember? — so I made my own instead.

That should’ve been the end of it.

Instead, it became an obsession.

WHERE HARDCORE HARRY CAME FROM.

“Hardcore Harry” was already my own phrase — for anything full-on.

A packed restaurant on a Saturday night. A day that wouldn’t stop.

Then one afternoon in the yard, my son Harry — four years old, non-stop, refusing to settle down — pushed it that bit too far.

“You’re hardcore Harry,” I said.

His mum looked at me.

“That’s what you should call the company.”

EARLY DAYS.

When I first mentioned making hot sauce, Harry — four at the time — wanted to help.

His mum gave me the eye. I let him pitch in anyway.

That flame-faced logo came straight from him.

With no budget for premium packaging, we started with flexible pouches — affordable, durable, and made with 30% recycled content. They survived drops, handled the beach, and held up out in the wild.

“Big Red” was the first flavour.

Two years in, the pouches weren’t moving. No stockists. No momentum.

So in 2026, we changed course and switched to bottles.

TODAY.

Harry’s nearly 10 now, and still the main taster.

If he doesn’t like a batch, no one will.

He sells the sauce himself when he gets the chance.

This is still a two-person operation, building one bottle at a time.

No shortcuts. No compromises.