Born to dream, with the name Caleb Jones, he left home from somewhere in the flatlands of West Texas to seek his fortune in California and mine for gold. Things didn’t quite work out as he’d hoped, and he wound up doing odd jobs in San Francisco. A somewhat ornery sort, his earnings were lost at the gambling tables, along with an eye and most of his jaw in a series of ill-timed fistfights.

One day he heard there was an awful lot of gold in Mexico. On his faithful horse, with a new dream and a burro to carry his gear, that’s where Caleb headed next, south to fortune, with jars of sauces and spice blends he’d begun tinkering with to keep his meals interesting on the trail.
Once on the Sierra Madre, Caleb got lost and was soon attacked by roving bandidos. His horse, burro, and all of his belongings were taken. Caleb, bleeding by the side of a river, was left for dead.

A family traveling south to their home in Jalisco stopped to fetch water. Their daughter, Paloma, went down to the river and found him. Barely alive, he managed only to mutter that he was from San Francisco. Paloma, hearing the word “Francisco,” decided that must be his name and began calling him Paco, the nickname in Spanish for Francisco.

Paloma nursed him back to health. When Caleb recovered his strength, he decided to keep the name Paco Jones, proud of the new life it represented. More than that, he fell in love with Paloma. When he looked into her dark eyes, he was glad he had only one because there was too much beauty to take in with two.

On their wedding day, over a delicious meal, Paco had an epiphany. He would combine his love for Paloma, his newfound passion for Mexican flavors, and his Texan knack for making food quick and hearty. He began crafting sauces—smoky, spicy, and sweet—that could make any meal extraordinary with just a simple squeeze or spoonful.

He experimented tirelessly, blending tomatoes, chiles, garlic, and spices from both sides of the border. He perfected his Mexican BBQ and Mexican Ketchup, capturing the soul of two countries in one bottle. Soon every vaquero, traveler, and family table was speaking of his legendary flavors. 
Is this tale as tall as the mountains of the Sierra Madre?

 

What a fun question to ask.

But as you pour a bit of Paco Jones sauce over your meal, letting the flavors of love and adventure dance on your tongue, you might just believe that the greatest treasures aren’t found in gold mines. They’re found in the flavors that turns an ordinary meal into a legend.

¡Buen provecho, amigo!