Earlier this year, Tran decided to open the gates of his factory to tours. The decision wasn’t the result of some Roald Dahl-esque turn of heart, but rather, of some duress. Back in April, Huy Fong’s facility in Irwindale, California, had been declared a public nuisance after the city had received complaints from nearby residents alleging that the fumes from the factory were causing headaches, nosebleeds, heartburn, and a variety of respiratory ailments. The declaration followed a lawsuit by the city and a partial shutdown of the factory last year, which incited a panic among the faithful about a Sriracha shortage.

"The tours,” Tran told me, “are the only way to prove that we don't make tear gas."

The efforts worked. Well, the efforts, girded by out-of-state wooing of Huy Fong and some election-year pro-business posturing, eventually resulted in the lawsuit and nuisance issue both being dropped in late May.

During the ordeal, the extent of the Sriracha fandom revealed itself. Around the time the 2013 lawsuit against Huy Fong was filed, the first-ever L.A. Sriracha Festival was held in Los Angeles, featuring Sriracha-inspired dishes by some of the city’s best-known chefs.

"That was the first indication that there were crazy Sriracha people out there,” Donna Lam, the executive operations officer of Huy Fong, told me. “People who would want to dress like Sriracha, people who would pay $50 to eat Sriracha food."

As chili-grinding season kicked off in late September, Sriracha people had also appeared by the thousands to attend "open houses" at the Huy Fong factory. Visitors would get to see some of the season's 57,000 tons of red jalapeños go from pepper to paste, tour the massive facility, sample Sriracha ice cream, and maybe catch a glimpse of Tran himself.

My Sriracha immersion at the factory began with the ritual slipping on of a hairnet. I was shepherded around by Christy, who has been living in Irwindale for over a decade. She told me that nearly 2,000 people had flooded the factory at the most recent open house.

Adam Chandler

Our first stop was a room that had become something of a Sriracha shrine. It included a life-sized cut-out of David Tran, plaques, awards, pictures, artwork, love letters to Sriracha, and, of course, customized fire extinguishers.

As we entered the factory itself, two of the 30 to 40 massive trucks that deliver peppers daily during chili season pulled up. Huy Fong's pepper supply comes from local farms within hours of the factory and, according to Christy, the peppers are ground within hours of being picked.

The intricacies of Sriracha sauce creation don't necessarily make for the most riveting reading⎯peppers are sorted, washed, crushed, and bottled after salt, vinegar, and preservatives are added. What is stupefying about the tour is the scale of everything.

Adam Chandler

The massive ceilings, the endless banks of blue barrels, the mechanized trill of plastic bottles being molded, slapped with logos, filled, capped, boxed, and wrapped in plastic, all in a facility that's roughly the size of the Barclay's Center in Brooklyn.