Going to the Market Was a Plan: There are memories that smell of cilantro, freshly ground beef, and warm bread from the neighborhood bakery. Going to the market, in the Venezuela of old, was not simply a household chore: it was a ritual, an outing, an excuse to encounter the life that was woven between aisles, stalls, shouted prices, and impromptu conversations between acquaintances—and quite a few strangers!
Before the supermarkets with instrumental music and cold aisles of refrigerators, there were the open-air or covered markets, where color, bustle, and closeness were part of the charm. Making a market run meant waking up early, carrying a cloth bag or a little cart with wheels, and having the list of what was needed at home written on a piece of paper—or etched in memory. But above all, it was a human experience.
Going to the Market Was a Plan: A SENSORY (AND SOCIAL) EXPERIENCE
At the market, you learned to choose mangoes by touch, to haggle with wit, and to distinguish between good yuca and the kind that “binds” (amarra). It was common to see mothers, grandmothers, and aunts greeting their trusted butcher, the vegetable vendor, or the lady at the queso telita stall.
You bought fresh, and you bought while conversing because there was no rush; often, the market was the morning’s entire plan. There was a whole science to that stroll: first, you bought the staples, then the fruits, and finally, the meats or cheeses so they wouldn’t spoil on the way. Sometimes, if the budget allowed, a little treat was included: an empanada with a Maltín, a pastelito, or a paper bag filled with coconut preserves (conservas de coco).
FROM THE MARKET TO THE TABLE
Every product purchased had a clear destination: the ground beef for Sunday’s pasticho, the pumpkin (auyama) for a warm cream soup, the ají dulce for the next day’s stew. And in that back-and-forth of bags, there was also learning.
Children accompanied their mothers and learned, almost without realizing it, to know the ingredients of their culture. Going to the market was about talking about food, but also about family. It was about sharing kitchen secrets, listening to recommendations, and catching up on neighborhood news. It was knowing you were part of something bigger.
WHAT HAS TRANSFORMED (AND WHAT WE STILL PRESERVE)
Today, in Miami and in other cities where we have had to rebuild our lives, grocery shopping might be different. But there is still something deeply emotional about smelling good cilantro, seeing a bunch of cambures pintones, finding grated queso llanero, or a good bag of pre-cooked cornmeal.
At PANNA, we know it’s not just about ingredients, but about everything they represent. Every arepa, every pastelito, every empanada we serve is made with that same love that filled the market bags on Saturday mornings.
That’s why, if you’re feeling nostalgic, visit us—in our kitchens, we keep alive those flavors born in the markets of Venezuela. Because we know there are things that shouldn’t change: the seasoning, the care, and that taste for sharing what is good.
If you are in Miami and miss those market days, come to PANNA. We don’t sell bags of yuca or fresh onions, but we do have the flavor of always—the one born at home and shared with joy. We’re waiting for you here, with everything you love, freshly made and with a lot of heart.
