PeterGibbons
Joined: 08 Jan 2006
Posts: 128
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 Posted: Mon Feb 27, 2006 9:59 pm Post subject: Arepas! Arepas! |
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Arepas! Arepas!
SmartMoney.com
INSIDE A COLORFUL SHOEBOX of a restaurant, a blast of heat emanates from a sizzling griddle and the air is filled with the savory smell of grilled corn dough. On a recent winter afternoon, two young men have stopped in to chat in Spanish with the pretty waitresses and munch on piping hot arepas — Venezuelan corn patties stuffed with cheese, meat and other fillings — at the narrowest of counters.
The cozy, fragrant atmosphere is exactly what owner Maribel Araujo, a Venezuelan native, had in mind when she opened Caracas Arepa bar in New York's East Village in 2003. In this tiny spot, a maximum of 20 people can squeeze their knees under tables the size of nightstands. Vintage photos, a hand-painted mural on an exposed brick wall, and religious statues give the place the feel of a roadside eatery in a family house, common to Venezuela's countryside.
"It's very simple, but the food is homemade, and people can feel like they are at home," explains Araujo, 30, who works every day in this 350-square-foot spot, overseeing a staff of eight and interacting with regular customers, a mix of uprooted Latin Americans and local hipsters.
And it's unique, no small feat in a city where chain restaurants like Olive Garden and Outback Steakhouse are scorned and thousands of restaurants compete for customers. Zagat's 2006 restaurant guide, which covers more than 2,000 restaurants in all five boroughs, lists only one other Venezuelan restaurant — a competitor that doesn't focus narrowly on the arepa, as Araujo's restaurant does.
In fact, it's the simple arepa that Araujo is counting on to propel her business to nearly a million in sales in 2006. The arepa is "thicker than a tortilla," she explains. "You don't eat it with stuff on top — the stuff is on the inside." Popular arepas on the menu include the Reina Pepiada, filled with chunky chicken and avocado, and the De Pabellon, stuffed with shredded beef, black beans, sweet plantains and aged cheese. Priced at about $5, the arepa is "ideal for those seeking a healthy, inexpensive gastronomic experience," according to the menu.
Regular customer Grace Sierra, 21, who is half Venezuelan, has brought her boyfriend to sample the arepas, something her mother, who lives in Queens, often makes. "When I can't go home, I come here," says Sierra, a student at New York University. "This is really a little treasure here."
Araujo, who moved to New York five years ago with dreams of becoming a cinematographer, quickly burned out trying to make it in the tough film industry. Then one day, tired and cooking arepas, she envisioned opening an eatery. The idea gained steam after she invited friends over to try her stuffed Venezuelan corn cakes. "Everyone was flipping out," she says. "It was something New York was missing. Burritos, sushi have made their way through." Now, she figured, was the time for the arepa.
She and her husband, Aristides "Gato" Barrios, began scouring the city for a good location, and saw the vacant storefront listed in the Village Voice. The couple poured $60,000 into the business, using their own savings, money from family and friends, and a micro-loan from American Express for women business owners. They cleaned, painted and re-did the flooring themselves. A friend painted the mural, another made the counter. All told, the elbow grease saved about $40,000, Araujo estimates.
Araujo, who has a degree in visual arts, says her background in the movie industry actually came in handy when opening the restaurant. "All the tools I used for film, I used to open the restaurant," she says, pointing to the project management skills she developed as a producer for an animation company and as a make-up artist on movie sets. "It's just another production."
The hard work has paid off. Especially on weekends, when there is often a 45-minute wait for a tiny, floral-tablecloth-covered table. (The review in Zagat's — an influential guide for New York foodies — says the munchies at Caracas Arepa bar are "addictive"; so what if it feels a bit like "dining in a confessional" — it's a "winner.") Sales in 2004, the restaurant's first full year, hit almost $500,000. A license to sell wine and beer — obtained in May 2005, at a cost of nearly $6,000 — has boosted sales 20%.
The next step is to find a spot for a second location, which Araujo is finding difficult. "Part of the charm is that we're small and cozy," she says, so the next storefront can't be "clean and modern, with stainless steel and glass." The hunt has taken six months, and counting.
And there have been other challenges, such as training a new person in the art of making arepas, only to have that person not show up for work one day. The long hours are rough, too. "I have no time. I have no life. I don't see my husband," Araujo ticks off. Usually, she and her husband Gato, who is co-owner, alternate lunch and dinner shifts, so one of them is always there, and they generally take separate vacations. But for this admitted workaholic, there's a sense of satisfaction "especially when you created it, and it's the way you imagine," says Araujo, looking around at the crowds that have started to gather for early dinner.
There's another benefit for the Venezuelan expatriate — and one that is perhaps timeless in this city that has long been home to immigrants. "I left my country for many reasons, but I feel a little guilty," she says, adding that many Venezuelans are leaving because of the country's uncertain political climate. With Caracas Arepa Bar, "I can promote our culture — our food."
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Peter Gibbons
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