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“This is like Narnia, a surreal land where everything is possible,” says food writer Lígia Velasquez. Sipping a Venezuelan sparkling wine while sitting at a round table covered with a white linen tablecloth at the Sereno restaurant, in Caracas’ wealthy Altamira neighbourhood, she is using the metaphor of the fictional world created by writer C. S. Lewis to explain the moment her home country is going through. “It takes a bit of fantasy to understand what is happening in Venezuela today,” she continues.
After years of extreme scarcity, some Venezuelans now lead lives of luxury in a country with one of the highest rates of inequality in the world. Imported cars, the latest models, speed through the streets of the capital, while shopping malls are packed with consumers. A new wave of restaurants offers the opportunity for well-off diners to go out to enjoy a meal.
The current restaurant scene in Caracas exemplifies this complex reality, with pockets of wealth increasing and the return of some national pride. After corruption and mismanagement destroyed the Venezuelan economy, leading to a deep humanitarian crisis (more than 6.8 million Venezuelans have left since 2015, according to the United Nations), the country seems to be recovering economically. The US has scaled back oil sanctions, everyday products are readily available, and poverty is down (today, half of the nation lives in poverty, down from 65% in 2021).
A dish at Sereno. Photo: Mónica Sahmkow
Last year, the capital registered around 200 restaurant openings according to the Cámara Nacional de Restaurantes (National Chamber of Restaurants). Cordero, a farm-to-table high-end restaurant focused on lamb, was one of them. “I can't say that the country is ‘fixed,’ as many say. Still, there is a real improvement and some spirit of optimism,” says its chef, Issam Koteich, a Venezuelan with Syrian heritage, who lived abroad for a decade (between Spain and Dubai) before deciding to return a year ago to open the venue.
The meat comes from animals raised according to consolidated welfare practices on the Proyecto Ubre farm, about 30 minutes drive from Caracas, where the fancy, yet cosy restaurant is located (tucked in one of the city’s hippest fashion malls). The menu represents a new concept for the city and features creative dishes in which lamb, of course, is the star: carpaccio with cured sheep cheese and pine nuts, lingua tonnata (roasted tongue served with creamy tuna sauce), or juicy chunks of meat, from flank to rack. “I didn't visit my country for years, I was hopeless. Now, I feel that we are in a new phase and I believe that a new gastronomy is building towards a change and some idea of reconstruction. I hope this can continue to happen,'' he says.
Chef Mónica Sahmkow is part of the new generation of Venezuelan chefs who decided to stay and bet on local gastronomy. Running Sereno, which opens in May 2023 with a ‘glocal’ concept (local ingredients, global influences), she agrees that Venezuela's food scene can benefit from this new moment. "Our country is always changing, and we have learned to manage with delicacy and caution what we do under different circumstances," she says. "Today, many more people are dedicating themselves to supplying products with quality standards. We had to look inside, and we discovered that, despite the limitations, we have a vibrant culinary culture.”
According to Sahmkow, national producers are committed and capable of responding to the requests of chefs and restaurateurs with consistent quality. In addition, there is access to imported products that facilitate restaurant production standards. In recent years, the country has been placed in a kind of economic exile from the rest of the world: the lack of food, machinery, services and imported products forced Venezuelans to look inwards for a living, relying on inventiveness to develop their own products and create their own brands. “This was positive since we cooks could rediscover our country, giving priority to local produce and, at the same time, demanding quality,” she says. Coffee, chocolate, cheese, Amazonian fruits and other local foods have never been available at such high quality.
Mónica Sahmkow
Concomitantly, imported foods of all kinds, from all over the world (from Italian truffle oils to French wines) compete with local produce on the shelves of bodegones, large stores selling duty-free imported products. This was a direct effect of unofficial dollarisation of the local economy, only possible thanks to the easing of restrictions on the use of US dollars – now ubiquitous on some grocery store price tags and restaurant menus. In many restaurants, the check can exceed $200 for a meal – in a country where only 15% earn more than this amount per month, according to a survey from Equilibrium CenDE, and the monthly minimum wage is US $5.40.
Local economic conditions remain dire for a massive portion of the population, with the wealthiest Venezuelans 70 times richer than the poorest, one of the highest rates of inequality in the world. And access to US dollars is often limited to a few people: mostly with ties to the government (usually called as enchufados, an expression that means ‘plugged in’) or those involved in illicit businesses. It implies that frequent diners – those who go out every week to eat in restaurants – represent a tiny fraction of the population: even in a city like Caracas, local restaurateurs estimate that they are no more than 5,000.
"We all compete for the same few patrons", says Ivan García, who runs El Bosque, a lively casual restaurant focused on local products. Since he opened in the hip Chacao neighbourhood, he has embraced an all-day concept, from brunch to dinner (also tasting menus). "We must take advantage of every opportunity we have here in Venezuela. I can have my restaurant packed with 90 people one night and no more than two tables the next day," he explains. "There is no constancy here."
A dish at El Bosque. Photo: Gonzalo Picón
Because of this, many restaurants do not survive for long, closing after a few months, in many cases. García has been lucky enough to keep El Bosque open for seven years: first, in Merida, his hometown; four years ago, he moved to Caracas, where he decided to stay. "Of course, I mulled over living abroad, like when I turned on the shower, and there was no water," he says. "But I've always felt I belong here. Despite all the difficulties, I managed to succeed with my restaurant, which for me represents having some quality of life both for me and for my well-paid team [around US $400 per month] of 20 employees who rely on me. I know it's not everyone's reality, but I feel that I have to do something to help my country, and insisting on a business here was a way of beefing up my role," he says.
Last year, García created Kilómetro Venezuela, a project to showcase producers, cooks, and other players in his country's food sector. "I want people to know what we are, to understand that the value of an arepa goes far beyond economic classes, that we also develop new products, such as ‘olives from the sea’ that come from Isla Margarita and are already in chefs' kitchens and supermarkets thanks to local entrepreneurs," he explains.
On his menu, almost nothing comes from abroad: wine, rum, corn, vegetables, herbs and fish are 100% local. "In a country where we can no longer bear to talk about politics, I try to show that choosing to serve only what we produce here is my way of standing up," he adds. As a child of the crisis – at the age of 29, García was born under the Chavista regime, never knowing another political system in his country – he says he was forged in a local culture that always pushed him to do something no matter what.
"I am an optimist who believes in the transformative power of gastronomy as a cultural value that can bring us closer to our roots, which I've been trying to do with El Bosque for the last few years", he concludes. "Maybe I'm naive, but I prefer to still believe in a different reality, distinct from what people worldwide usually spread about us".
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