Carlos didn’t plan to become the paddock’s most dangerous secret chef.

It started during the lockdown...when the world outside shrank and the rooms inside became too small. When races stopped and engines went quiet and he discovered he didn’t know what to do with silence.

His hands needed something. His brain needed something. His heart needed something.

Cooking gave him all three.

He didn’t mean to get good. It just… happened. One day he was chopping onions because his abuela’s voice in his head said “real men should know how to feed themselves,” and three months later he was kneading dough like a professional baker and debating the smoke point of olive oil on YouTube comment sections at three in the morning.

It became his therapy.
His safe place.