Jesse Bracamontes is one of the legions of Sriracha hot sauce fans who squirts the bright red paste of peppers, garlic and spices on all manner of foods: pizza, take-out Chinese and even a plain bowl of noodles.
But when the pungent Sriracha smell wafts into the frontyard of his Irwindale home, he says his nose runs and he feels a little sick.
"It feels a little like pepper spray," he said.
Bracamontes lives a short walk from Sriracha's bustling new plant in Irwindale, which can produce up to 200,000 bottles of the hot sauce each day. The company moved there last year in response to heavy global demand.
But some neighbors say they are paying the price as Sriracha booms. They say the smell is making their eyes water and throats burn.
Now the city is demanding that the factory shut down until the problem is solved. Irwindale filed suit in Los Angeles County Superior Court on Monday against the sauce's company Huy Fong Foods, alleging that the odor was a public nuisance and asking a judge to stop production.
Irwindale City Manager John Davidson said he had noticed the odor, both at City Hall and just outside the plant.
"It's pretty strong," he said.
Sriracha has emerged as the condiment of the moment. It was formulated in L.A.'s Chinatown by a Vietnamese Chinese immigrant decades ago and attracted a cult following. But over the last decade, the sauce's popularity has exploded, accounting for more than $60 million in sales last year, according to the company.
It's spawned a documentary, a food festival, a cookbook and even a special flavor of Lay's potato chips. The company moved to the $40-million plant so it could triple its capacity, officials said.
Huy Fong officials said they were skeptical that the odor was as noxious as city officials claim.
David Tran, chief executive and founder, has offered to do what he can to control the odor and the company has twice added filters to its exhaust vents. But he says the chiles are pungent for a reason — it makes for a better sauce.
"If it doesn't smell, we can't sell," Tran said. "If the city shuts us down, the price of Sriracha will jump a lot."
The chile itself is a hybrid jalapeño pepper calibrated by Tran and a supplier for specific spice levels. It is ground fresh, not cooked or dried.
Chiles are offloaded onto a conveyor belt at the back of the building, where they are washed, then ground. Above the grinder, exhaust fans suck the chile-laden air into several filtered pipes that run all the way to the roof, where the peppery air is expelled.
Sergio Garcia, a 27-year-old machine supervisor, works near the unfiltered air all day without a breathing mask.
"It's not so bad," Garcia said. "You get used to it."
A business- and industrial-heavy city, Irwindale is no stranger to smells, including some emanating from a dog food manufacturer — especially on an overcast day, said Lisa Bailey, the president of the Irwindale Chamber of Commerce. Also in Irwindale is the MillerCoors Brewery.
"But most people don't consider that a bad odor. It's like, 'Oh, beer!' " Bailey said with a laugh.