Chilli has been on our dinner table since I can remember. My grandfather loved sweating bullets of a meal time, my dad even more so. They both made livings from being fire fighters - almost 80 years of service with the Royal Fire Service between them! What can I say, there’s fire in our blood.

I’ve pondered a great deal over the years whether the love of chilli is hereditary or something you develop a taste for and ultimately an addiction to over time.

Because my dad who was always the cook in our house never really skimped on the fire in his mouth he so craved on me or my sisters’ behalf - despite the fact we were all like, under like 5. Our meals were sufficiently spiked with exotic levels of capsaicin, I recall the whining however only being relatively short-lived.

By the time we were each in our 20’s we could eat Vietnamese restaurants in Brisbane’s West End out of their birds eyes. I remember Dad always had the shelves in his fridge laden with bottles named after medical conditions of the southern back orifice and I used to think: I’m no wallflower or anything but what the f is with that. Because chilli is a joy. Food is a joy. Eating chilli with the people you love is a trifecta of joy.

The birth of Crack Fox was as much about filling a gap in the market I was so personally affected by for a tasty flavour-forward hot sauce free of all the sussies for my sissies, dad and I - as it was about creating a hot sauce that was about fun and yums and less about skulls and bums.

Crack Fox has been mortared from the simple premise of how I like to eat and how I like to feed the people I like to eat with. 

I love that you are here, thank you for stopping by x