Cocina de Brujas

Cocina de Brujas was born as a response to a world that lives in fear of people who see too much, who sense too much, who refuse to stay quiet.

(True Story) When I was a child, I had a strange gift. I could guess what was inside wrapped presents with uncanny accuracy. My family whispered that I was psychic. I was only six, and to me it felt like a game, paying attention, noticing the little clues no one else did.

But not everyone thought it was harmless fun. At one of my birthdays, the house was full: aunts, uncles, grandparents, and, unusually, people from church. When it came time to open gifts, they pushed me to perform my “magic act.” I did, and I nailed it. Every guess landed.

Instead of applause, there was unease. My parent pulled me aside with the visitors, tension etched on their faces. They told me what they thought was happening, that Satan himself was whispering in my ear. If I didn’t stop, I’d be possessed, enslaved, and lost forever in hellfire. Then they formed a circle around me, held hands, and prayed.

I had just turned seven.

That moment when I was told I should be afraid, that I must fear for my eternal soul, did not break me. It forged me.
It became the seed of Cocina de Brujas, a brand not rooted in shame or fear but in truth, acceptance, and love.

Cocina de Brujas belongs to anyone who was told they were too much, too strange, or too different. It is for the ones who were shamed for their gifts, silenced for their questions, or punished for simply being who they are. It is for every child who grew up under suspicion, every adult who still carries that mark, and every spirit that refuses to bow.

Cocina de Brujas stands as a reminder we are not alone.

Seis