OUR STORY.
IT STARTED
WITH
HOT SAUCE.
Lockdown. We ran out of hot sauce.
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 a genuine, mildly concerning obsession.
WHERE IT 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 — 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 — cheap, durable, and made with 30% recycled content. Mostly because “cheap” was the only requirement we could actually afford.
They survived drops, handled the beach, and held up out in the wild. Surprisingly competent for something chosen entirely on price. “Big Red” was the first flavour.
Two years in, the pouches weren’t moving. No stockists. No momentum. Turns out “durable” doesn’t sell itself.
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 has no professional training and zero filter, which makes him better at this job than most adults.
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.