Spicy Salsa Maker Has All The Hot Stuff

Lenny Munguia’s tattoo has turned out to be prophetic.

“Remember ‘Hot Stuff?”’ he says, pointing to the cartoon devil wearing a sailor cap that adorns his arm.

Hot stuff is Munguia’s business.

Munguia, 45, makes “Lenny’s Juan in Million” salsa. He sells it mostly at craft fairs or the Spokane Marketplace, and occasionally at espresso stands. It’s the latest in a series of career twists for Munguia.

He’s been in the Navy. In California, he worked at a college radio station and spent 15 years as a hair stylist. He has sold cookware and houses. He has been a property manager. After he moved here with his wife and three boys, he started a day-care service.

With so many career choices out there, Munguia says he won’t settle for just one out of a million.

“The world isn’t like it used to be, where you got a job and stayed there for 30 years at the same place,” he says. “My dad worked at a steel mill for 30 years, and the year he retired he died.”

Not wanting to go the same route, he keeps his options open. That’s why, four years ago, he listened to friends who loved the homemade salsa he brought to parties. He got the recipes from his father, who was from Mexico, and his mother, a Colorado native. Munguia says the differing regional influences made for a heckuva condiment.

“People thought I ought to market it. I didn’t want to at first; I thought it would be a waste of time,” Munguia says. Nonetheless, he gave it a go. Good thing, too - he sold 500 cases last year.

It took some work to get the stuff just right for the commercial front. He didn’t want to use artificial preservatives, but his salsa needed a long shelf life. He sent several samples to Washington State University for testing until he perfected an all-natural mix that tasted authentic and would last.

Then came the Northwest public. Munguia says his Salsa Picante got a thumbs up for flavor, but it was a bit too fiery for many.

“They were buying it because they liked it, but they were suffering,” he says, laughing through his black and gray beard.

He modified his lineup for the northern folk. Now he makes four salsas, the mildest being his Salsa Fresca. At the Spokane Marketplace, where he is a board member, he prepares Mexican food during the summer. Munguia uses the different salsas to get the heat level just right.

“How do you want it?” he asks customers. “Do you wanna fly or what?”

As for the “Hot Stuff” tattoo, it had everything to do with shore-leave revelry in Hong Kong, nothing to do with marketing plans.

“It’s a Navy tattoo, says ‘Never Again’ up there,” Munguia says. “It’s just, I don’t know, one of those stupid things you do in life. I guess I could have got a better tattoo than that.”

Maybe. But if body art is prophetic, getting the traditional Popeye anchor might have inspired the fates to send him to an Alaska fishing boat.

Nowadays, salsa probably outsells salmon anyway.

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Photo