It started with a craving.

Growing up in Nepal, sukuti was everywhere — hanging over smoky kitchen fires, sold in paper cones at bus stops, passed around at every Dashain and Tihar. Nobody thought of it as special. It was just there.

Then we moved to the States. And it wasn't there. Not in the grocery stores, not in the gas stations, not even in the little South Asian shops. The "jerky" we found was soft, sweet, and polite. Sukuti is none of those things.

So in early 2026, in a rented commercial kitchen and with a stack of family recipes scribbled in Nepali, we started drying chicken the way our grandmothers did — marinated in chili, garlic, ginger and timur, then dried low and slow until it's hard, deep and properly chewy.

We named it LeLe — the sound of "take it, take it!" you'd hear from every aunty pushing a plate toward you. That's the spirit: generous, loud, a little too spicy.

Today we sell to snackers coast to coast, and to the shops, bars and restaurants who want to give their customers something they genuinely can't find anywhere else. Le, le — take some.