“Curvy Queen”), a tribute to the first Venezuelan to win an international beauty pageant. The peluda arepa is named for the hair-like strands of shredded meat in the filling the chicken-and-avocado Reina Pepiada (lit. Lozano’s mother would pack her children’s schoolbags with arepas stuffed with a mixture of salty deviled ham and mayonnaise, wrapped in foil so they’d stay warm until lunchtime. White cheese and eggs are popular fillings in Colombia, while Venezuelans enjoy them stuffed with a variety of protein-packed fillings. Victoria Lozano prepares food during the Andina pop-up at El Rio in S.F. The arepa is ingrained in the DNA of the many people who live in that part of South America and the Caribbean, who each find a different facet of the arepa to celebrate. ![]() In fact, Merriam-Webster traces the word “arepa” to the word for corn in the indigenous Cariban language of Cumaná, on the Venezuelan coast. While the emoji was a long time coming, the history of the arepa stretches back millennia, part of the infinitely branching family tree of dishes, like pupusas and tamales, that emerged from the domestication of corn. It was amazing to connect with other Venezuelans, she said, “but I wanted health insurance!” She put a pause on the pop-ups and went back to work at Absinthe when it reopened. Fellow homesick Venezuelans, some even driving up from San Jose, would line up outside of their house to pick up fried empanadas, fluffy bread stuffed with ham and arepas. Sporting red bandannas in their hair, Lozano and her sister set up shop at bars around San Francisco and sold out of their home, serving the food they missed after so much time away.Īs political asylees, two of nearly 6 million Venezuelans who left home amid unrest and overwhelming poverty, the sisters had relinquished the right to ever step foot into Venezuela again: the food, and each other, were all they had from home. ![]() She and her sister scrambled to make money - not only to live, but to send to their parents back home - so they started a pop-up, Venezuelan Kitchen, that June. Like many restaurant workers, she found herself out of work during 2020’s pandemic lockdown. Five years ago, she joined her sister in San Francisco and found work at restaurants like China Live and Absinthe, eventually moving up to a full-fledged pastry chef position. As a young woman in Caracas, she developed her skills as a pastry cook. ![]() But the craft of cooking pulled her in: At the age of 10, she began by butchering chickens to make breaded fingers for the restaurant’s kids’ menu. The child of a restaurant family back in Rubio Tachira who would sleep under tablecloths as her parents worked, Lozano once swore that she would never work in the business. Otherwise, you’ll find arepas from home kitchens on Facebook Marketplace and pop-ups like Arepas en Bici and Lozano’s.Ĭustomers eat arepas during the Andina pop-up at El Rio in S.F. You’ll also see them hidden on a few menus at the Michelin-starred Californios, chef-owner Val Cantu includes a button-size arepa on the tasting menu as a nod to his heritage, while Gustavo Villaroel, part of the chef team at Castro Valley’s Oculto, has snuck them onto the menu from time to time. In the Bay Area’s nascent Venezuelan food scene, you can find them most consistently at Pica Pica Arepa Kitchen, which has locations in Napa and San Francisco. When you slice a fresh one open, it’s reminiscent of the slow-mo shots in Thomas English muffin commercials - that sensual zoom over crags of cooked dough wafting with steam. Shaped from masa into palm-size moons, arepas puff up just a little on a grill with the subtlety of a shrugging shoulder. There’s plenty of justification for why arepas are a beloved dish in not just one but several countries in Latin America and the Caribbean. Her five-item menu was posted around the bar with standard office tape that struggled to withstand the summer breeze, though the arepas’ popcorn aroma was enough to draw people toward her. Filled with a nervous energy, the petite immigrant from Venezuela stood behind a long folding table, flicking back and forth between watching a griddle of slowly crisping arepas and answering bargoers’ questions. In the sprawling back courtyard of El Rio, shaded by palms and watched over by a giant mural of Carmen Miranda, I found Victoria Lozano. Amaya Edwards / Special to The Chronicle Show More Show Less The guava and cheese pastel at Andina, a pop-up at El Rio in S.F. Amaya Edwards / Special to The Chronicle Show More Show Less 2 of2 ![]() Victoria Lozano was inspired to start her business, Andina, to bring Venezuelan food back to her community and others who might not be familiar with some of the staple dishes.
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