Hello! Super easy. We have a shop in San Pedro — from Pomodoro at Plaza Roosevelt, walk 75 meters east. If you come by bicycle, we’ll give you a 10% discount.
Click here to see the store on Google Maps.

If you’re not in Costa Rica, you can order online here and we’ll ship it anywhere you want 

You can call us at 2234-9424 to place your order faster, or send us a WhatsApp message at 8831-6026.

If you have an account on our website, you can check the status anytime by logging in and clicking on your User icon in the upper right corner, then selecting Orders.

If your order was placed less than a week ago, please wait a couple more days before checking again — it’s almost there, and you’ll be able to get properly enchilado as the law requires!

If more than a week has passed and there’s still no news about your sauces, please write to us at info@chilemonoloco.com with your order number, no shame needed. You can email us directly or send us a message from this page a little further up.

Grandma, take a deep breath and listen to me: calm down, for the sake of all the monkeys hanging from the almond trees.
If your mouth tastes like the color white, you are not dying… you’re becoming a legend.

First things first:
We told you not to drink water!
Water does not put out the fire of a proper enchilada. Water just spreads the heat all over your mouth like you’re mopping the floor with chile glued to the mop. Don’t do it. Don’t torture yourself… more.

Now, please follow the Monoloco Survival Guide for Stubborn Grandmas®, designed by scientists armed with sandals:

1. Milk, Grandma. MILK.

Any kind will do — even the neighbor’s if necessary.
Take a few good gulps, let the fat do its magic, and wait for the fire to fade like a campfire during a serenade.

2. Something fatty: bread, butter, cheese, or a little piece of whatever you hid for your afternoon snack.

Fat “washes” the heat away, just like when you used to clean our faces with your own saliva (we still haven’t forgiven you, but it works as an example).

3. If you have yogurt, take a heroic spoonful.

Not a shy little teaspoon — a full, proud, mountain-sized scoop.
If you can’t find the yogurt, check behind the cas soda in the fridge. Things always show up back there.

4. No water, Grandma. NONE.

Not a sip. Not a drop.
This is forbidden — the same way you tried to forbid us from going out after 6 p.m.

5. If you suddenly feel like dancing, don’t be alarmed.

Sometimes spicy food awakens memories of youth.
If you start singing boleros, that’s normal — or maybe you should put on the new Juan Gabriel documentary on Netflix and invite a grandpa to dance.
If you start speaking in unknown languages… that is the PierdeAlmas acting.

6. Reflect on why you did this.

Grandma, you’re the one who decided to add 3, 4, 8 drops “just to see what would happen.”
And on top of that, you put it in your coffee.
You wanted adventure, and adventure has arrived. Keep that spirit!

7. Promise us you won’t use PierdeAlmas for dares with your friends.

That chile is not for proving who’s the toughest at bingo night.
That chile is for rituals, for transcending, for seeing colors that don’t exist.

Conclusion, my beloved grandma:

You will survive.
Your tongue will stop glowing.
White will go back to being just white.

And next time your friends show up wanting to play “let’s see who can handle more,”
you bring out PuraPaja and serve it with innocent grandma charm.

Hello, of course you can try! The result may not resemble the original very much, because our oil goes through a slow and temperamental resting process that gives it that indecent, deep, delicious flavor everyone falls in love with. Even so, our heartfelt recommendation is this: live the experience your own way. Go for a walk with no destination, dance even if there’s no music, discover new places, and allow life to surprise you. Have a good time, laugh more often, make unexpected friendships, and enjoy every stage as if it were a chapter that won’t ever repeat. Look for the positive side even in what stings, because even heat teaches us something.

Accept that everything comes to an end, and that’s precisely why the best we can do is keep supporting small businesses, local markets, small producers, the ones who hustle with heart, the hardcore chili lovers, and every brave soul out there trying to compete against big-shot corporations that have never peeled a chile in their lives.

In short… it’s better to buy another Vieja’e Patio. Be grateful for the adventure you had with that bottle that is now empty—empty of oil, yes, but full of stories, good memories, and unforgettable spicy moments that left your soul happy and glowing.

Sir, please don’t waste good chile on disciplinary methods that not even Grandma would approve of.
We recommend using another brand if your goal is to not enjoy the heat… because if you’ve already tried El Pisuicas, you know there’s no turning back: you end up addicted to good spicy flavor, walking around happily—and yes, a little extra sassy.

Now, about your concern:

Look, sir…
This is like throwing gasoline at a monkey holding a slingshot: what grows isn’t respect, it’s attitude. What you created there is not a scolded child—it’s a primordial being of spice, an ancestral fire entity who now speaks two languages: basic Spanish… and advanced sass.

Don’t panic: the phenomenon is reversible… more or less.
Your kid probably came into contact with the pure essence of El Pisuicas: a chile that doesn’t educate—it awakens. It makes you more honest, more expressive, more free… and yes, a bit more foul-mouthed.

Our official, technical, and scientifically irresponsible recommendations are:

1. Give the kid milk or yogurt, because heat washes away with fat, not with tears.

2. Breathe deeply, because you now have a tiny walking firecracker capable of arguing with a parking officer.

3. Stop using sacred chiles for education, and instead teach him that bad words are to be saved for truly important moments—like when you smash your pinky toe on the corner of the couch.

4. Eat the Pisuicas yourself, because chile is meant to be enjoyed, not used to traumatize future generations.

In summary:
You didn’t punish the child… you gave him a promotion.

If you need further guidance, alternative therapies involving cas and pejibaye, or a beginner-level Pisuicas exorcism, we’re here to help.

No, no, no, and a thousand times no—good grief.
Who started that rumor? Aunt Zelmira, maybe?!
At Chile Monoloco we have never hired monkeys to make our sauces… for now.

We use a different kind of primate — a slightly more evolved one, with opposable thumbs, questionable humor, and the wonderful ability to cry the moment they taste MataSanos.

Our premium primates are trained in the ancestral art of spice-handling: they can eyeball measurements with uncanny accuracy, cry with millimetric precision, and dance around a boiling pot whenever the recipe demands it — which is very often. They also undergo rigorous scientific evaluations, such as:

• Can they hold a spoon without throwing it at someone?

• Do they know the difference between “just a little spicy” and “farewell, taste buds”?

• Do they understand the concept of not licking the bottle before packing it?

So no — monkeys do not make our sauces.
But they are made by human beings who behave as if they live permanently perched on a mango tree.

And honestly… that explains a lot.

ou’ve just had Pierdealmas: a technical, scientific, and absolutely serious explanation (according to us).

What you’re experiencing is completely normal. Don’t panic — your brain is not melting; it’s simply processing the Faintesstert Effect, a rarely studied phenomenon because no respectable scientist wants to investigate it… except for one extremely stubborn German.

The Origin of the Faintesstert Effect

The Faintesstert Effect is named after the German scientist Dr. Franz Faintesstert, a brilliant, eccentric man with an undeniable emotional imbalance toward monkeys.
In 1932, during an expedition funded by a patron who believed Franz was merely collecting leaves, the doctor discovered and documented a complex social relationship between:

• a White-Faced Capuchin intellectually ahead of its time,

• the Perro chile, tiny but with the ego of a giant,

• and a Fer-de-Lance viper who, against all odds, had a soft spot for romantic poetry.

These three beings formed an impossible triangle of madness, affection, and spice that could only have existed in the 1930s — and only in the jungles of Corcovado, where nothing makes sense and everything becomes legend.

His discovery was so incomprehensible that the scientific community awarded him a premature Nobel Prize, mostly so he would stop sending letters describing how the Capuchin stole the viper’s breakfast every morning.

The Doctor’s Philosophical Phase

Dr. Franz Faintesstert also became famous for his immortal phrase:

“A monkey with a stick is worth more than a hundred flying bullets.”

No one knows what it actually means, but it sounded deep enough that UNESCO printed it on T-shirts for two weeks before realizing that no one spoke jungle-German.

It was during this period that the doctor discovered his love for monkeys, spice, and excessively long storytelling. Inspired, he promised to write an action novel every two years in honor of the monkeys who fell during the Revolution of ’37, a historic conflict that absolutely no one remembers — except him.

The Fall and the Literary Rebirth

His first book, “More Monkeys Than Madness,” was a catastrophic failure:
zero sales, a brutal review from a bilingual parrot, and a massive debt to the printing house.
Franz was left on the brink of financial, emotional, and follicular ruin.

But over time, thanks to the persistent efforts of bored academics, his writings began to be taken seriously. Science and literature eventually accepted that Faintesstert wasn’t insane — he was simply far ahead of his time… or hopelessly lost in the jungle.

The Doctor’s Final Decision

Once finally recognized and reasonably stable, Dr. Franz Faintesstert made the most logical choice:

to live forever among monkeys and snakes,
abandoning civilized life, soap,
and the proper use of pronouns.

Everyone agreed it was for the best — for him, and for the rest of us.

Conclusion Applied to Your Current Situation

So if you’re hearing laughter, seeing colors that don’t exist, or feeling your soul vibrating in FM radio frequency…
relax: it’s not madness.

It’s just Pierdealmas activating the Faintesstert Effect —
a deeply documented, scientifically unnecessary,
and absolutely Monoloco spiritual reaction.

You’ve already taken the first step — good job!
Buy a bottle of Pierdealmas at our Palo’e Mono shop or from one of our trusted “dealers.”

Now relax. Get a piece of bread. Relax even more. Breathe. Drop your shoulders.
Remove the quality seal from the bottle. Breathe again. Focus — no one’s watching.
Slowly twist the cap open. Breathe, breathe! Think of no one. Think of nothing.
Don’t sweat… not yet.

Put a tiny bit of sauce on a plate. Go on. Breathe, breathe! Exhale!
Bring that piece of bread closer, slowly… touch the sauce in slow motion if absolutely necessary.
Breathe. This could become one of those life memories you tell your grandchildren about.
Breathe. Breathe.
Go for it. Do it. Do it!

At first, you feel nothing.
Then you realize it’s starting to burn… and it burns differently from anything you’ve ever tasted.
You’re glad you used just a tiny bit, but you’re also terrified, because it keeps getting hotter… and hotter… and hotter!

“When the hell does this end?
Why on earth did I try this?
Thank goodness I listened to that guy and used just a little — I should’ve used even less — I shouldn’t have used ANY!
I’m sweating. It was too much. I can’t breathe.
Who turned up the temperature?!
Why are my hands sweating?
I have hiccups!
Water doesn’t help! NOTHING helps!
What is happening to my mouth?!”

Then suddenly… you stop feeling anything.
You don’t feel your tongue. You don’t feel your cheeks.
You sweat. A lot.
You make dramatic promises.
You put the bottle in the fridge and swear you’ll never touch it again.
You reflect deeply on your life choices and immediately think of someone you want to prank with it — maybe that chatty neighbor.

You never imagined something could be this spicy.
You’re proud you survived the trial…

And at your next meal, you break your fragile promise and add a little more — just to see what happens.

Thank you for your question, Father.
Allow me to elaborate a bit on the Scoville scale, which measures the amount of capsaicin — the chemical compound responsible for the heat sensation in our thermal receptors, the opposite of the refreshing effect of mint!

The number of SHUs (Scoville Heat Units, named after its creator Wilbur Scoville) determines how spicy each chile is. For example, the humble sweet pepper has 0 SHU, zero heat. Jalapeños reach around 4,000 SHU, while habanero, Panamanian, cayenne, Peruvian ají, Sichuan pepper, rocoto and most intense peppers range from 50,000 to 300,000 SHU.
The Ghost Pepper (Bhut Jolokia) climbs all the way up to 1,100,000 SHU on that same scale!

We use several types of chiles to create our sauces, giving each one different levels of heat and personality.

Now, if 0 is equivalent to baby-food Stage 1, and 10 is the molten lava from Turrialba Volcano, then:

• PuraPaja sits gently around 0.5

• Vieja’e Patio reaches about 5 — and don’t forget the magic rule: spicy oil gets hotter as the bottle empties, rising up to 7!

• XXX, EstateQuieto, and Viaje Verde live in the 6 range: a medium-high heat perfect for replacing your everyday table chile.

• Pisuicas shows up with an intimidating 8, where you start using less… or more, depending on your life philosophy.

• And Pierdealmas and MataSanos go all the way to around 14, which is basically the sensation of licking a burning piece of charcoal.

We hope we’ve answered your question as clearly as possible.
Thank you again for writing to us, dear Father.

First of all: take a deep breath.
If there are monkeys in your living room, it doesn’t mean you’re losing your mind… it just means they’re on a residential tourism trip — or primate gentrification, as the youngsters call it nowadays.

Start by offering them some mashed banana (don’t blend it — that offends the more traditional ones) and a small handful of sunflower seeds so they can build some trust. If you want extra points in the “Favorite Human of the Year” rankings, make them a cold ginger-and-mint drink.

Remember: they’re not there to judge your home décor or criticize your life choices; they’re just exploring — the same way you open the fridge at midnight without knowing what you’re looking for.

And most importantly:
They were here first.
You’re the one who invaded their land when you decided to build a house in what used to be a paradise of branches, fruit trees, and monkey gossip. So treat your visitors with kindness, respect, and—if possible—hide the ripe mangoes… because they don’t forgive anything.

If the monkeys make a mess, well… think of it as having very hairy children with superpowered tantrum abilities. And enjoy the experience: not everyone gets an official inspection from the Anonymous Association of Curious Monkeys.

First of all: don’t panic.
If one of our bottles decides to communicate with you, it means you’ve reached an advanced level of spiritual connection with the kingdom of spicy primates. Not everyone earns that privilege.

Second: listen carefully.
Bottles only speak when they have something truly important to say, such as:

“Shake me, you bipedal creature!”
“Put me in the fridge, I need to talk to the ketchup!”
“Close the cap, I’m drying out!”

If the bottle starts giving you life advice, pay attention; it’s often better than what you’d get from a high school counselor.
If it starts giving you financial advice, ignore it completely: our sauces know nothing about investments and always recommend “putting everything in the Anglo Bank,” which historically has not been a great idea.

Now… if the bottle starts singing to you, that’s perfectly normal. Hot sauces tend to have artistic souls.
But if the bottle begins reciting romantic poetry, then you should worry: it may be possessed by the spirit of some love-struck chef who never got over their culinary school sweetheart.

Third: stay calm.
Remember, you’re still the human in this relationship. You’re in charge… more or less.
Do not argue with the bottle — spicy sauces thrive on confrontation and always manage to have the last word (or the last burn).

Finally: be grateful for the experience.
Many people go their whole lives without their food speaking to them. You have been chosen by the Sacred Order of Heat. Cherish the honor, use the sauce in moderation, and if the bottle starts asking for vacation time or social security… just move it to the shelf on the right.

Excellent question. Scientifically speaking, the perfect amount of Monoloco is whatever you think is enough… plus one extra drop just to see what happens.
But to answer with true primate-level rigor, we’ve developed the Official Monoloco Excess Heat Scale™, approved by our in-house experts in tears and spontaneous sweating:

PuraPaja Level – 0.5/10 (Safe Zone)

You can add 20 drops and the worst that happens is your food smells so good that your dog begs for a taste.
No crying here. Not you, not your grandparents. Everything is peaceful.

Macoña Level – 3/10 (Deceptively Innocent)

5 to 10 drops: totally fine.
12 drops: “Oh… this actually was spicy.”
15 drops: you start remembering the beach even if you’re at the office.
Still functional. Still relatively dignified.

Medium Level – 5/10 (XXX, Viaje Verde, EstateQuieto, Vieja’e Patio)

Here, the rules change — for better or for funnier.
4 drops: “Delicious.”
6 drops: “Is it hot in here or is it just me?”
10 drops: you hear a drum in the distance. Something ancestral is watching.
15 drops: an imaginary monkey applauds your recklessness.
Anything after that is between you and your emotional testament.

High Level – El Pisuicas – 8/10 (Doubt Everything)

1 drop: normal.
2 drops: elegant sweat.
3 drops: your tongue wants to quit its job.
5 drops: you begin speaking languages that don’t exist.
8 drops: you’re no longer eating — you’re traveling.

Very High – PierdeAlmas – 14/10 (Yes, fourteen… not a typo)

One drop: you question all your life decisions.
Two drops: you see blinking lights on the horizon.
Three drops: you hear a monkey wearing a cape whispering, “Almost there, creature.”
Four drops: your shadow greets you.
We were legally required to name this sauce PierdeAlmas.

Extreme – MataSanos – 14/10 (Same heat level… different dimension)

A micro-drop: nervous smile.
One drop: instant astral trip.
Two drops: an emotional portal opens.
Three drops: your soul tries to submit a resignation request.
Four drops: congratulations — you have unlocked Legend Mode.