Crossed Palates: Leaving Venezuela isn’t just about changing houses. It’s about changing climates, sometimes languages, ways of saying hello… and, of course, food. Those who have migrated know it: the first encounter with a typical dish from a new country can be as shocking as the first time you bundle up for 50°F weather or get lost in a subway system with 15 extensive and winding lines.

And so, the stories of “crossed palates” begin. Because there are flavors that take us out of our comfort zone, that challenge us, that make us raise an eyebrow or break into a smile. At first, we look at them with suspicion, but then we learn to love them—or at least, to respect them. Today we celebrate that unexpected mix of cultures in the mouth, those encounters between what we bring with us and what we try for the first time. Between the golfeado and the medialuna, between pabellón and ceviche, between café con leche and mate.

Crossed Palates: WHEN SWEET ISN’T QUITE AS SWEET (AND SALTY IS A LITTLE MORE)

One of the first gastronomic surprises for many Venezuelans abroad is the intensity (or lack thereof) in local flavors. Peruvian ceviche, for example, can seem sharp and strong at the first bite. But by the second, you understand its logic: it’s an explosion of freshness, a balance of citrus, red onion, and spice that has its own rhythm.

In Colombia, the famous arequipe can be puzzling: sweet and creamy, yes… but it’s not exactly our dulce de leche, nor our natilla, nor our condensed milk. It’s something else entirely, and it deserves its own place. And then there’s Argentine mate: bitter, steaming, and shared. It’s nothing like our lemongrass or mint infusions. But there’s something magnetic about the ritual of passing the mate and only saying “gracias” when you don’t want any more… because once you finally get it, you also realize the love found in that act of sharing.

Crossed Palates: FROM EMPANADAS TO HUMITAS: SIMILAR… BUT NOT THE SAME

In Latin America, there are many foods that look alike but are not interchangeable. And for a curious Venezuelan, that can be fascinating.

Arepas: Yes, they have them in Colombia too, but they have a different texture, different fillings, and a different history. At first, one might say: “This isn’t how we do it.” But after trying it with an open mind, you discover that while the ingredients are similar, the affections behind them are distinct. And that is also beautiful and deserves our respect.

Empanadas: In Chile, with pino and raisins; in Colombia, with a crunchy yellow dough; in Argentina, with the perfect repulgue (braided edge).

Tamales: Called humitas in the south, hallacas back home, and pasteles in the Caribbean.

WHEN WHAT WE MISS HELPS US UNDERSTAND OTHERS

There is something powerful in what happens when a Venezuelan tries the food of another country with a slightly nostalgic stomach. It’s not about comparing; it’s about understanding. Because every dish we try “over there” reminds us of something we had “back here.”

In that involuntary comparison, we expand our mental table. A Colombian tinto (black coffee) might seem watery until you understand its context. An Argentine choripán seems simple… until you try it with homemade chimichurri. An Salvadoran pupusa might seem heavy… but it only takes one bite to surrender to it. Crossed palates don’t always seek to replace what is ours, but they do open the door to gastronomic coexistence. And that is an act of respect—and of emotional survival.

AT PANNA, WE KNOW FLAVORS COEXIST

At PANNA, we welcome people from many countries every day: Americans, Colombians, Peruvians, Argentines, Mexicans, and of course, Venezuelans! And we’ve learned that although everyone has their childhood dish and their favorite recipe, everyone is looking for the same thing: to feel at home.

That’s why our proposal doesn’t try to imitate other cuisines. Instead, it is built with the openness of someone who has tasted the world and chosen the flavor that represents them. If the day you visit us you’re craving a quinoa bowl, among the options we’ll offer is adding some delicious black beans. If a customer asks for a coffee, we’ll ask if they want it with frothy milk or “dripped like back home.” And if someone walks in with a mate in hand, we’ll welcome them with a baby shark empanada and a smile. Because at PANNA, we know that kitchens don’t compete: they meet, they listen, and they embrace.

CROSSED PALATES ALSO BUILD A HOME

Trying new flavors isn’t betraying your own; it’s expanding your emotional map. It’s allowing the unfamiliar to speak to us and, sometimes, to comfort us. It’s remembering that memory is also nourished by discovery.

So if you are far from home and you try something that looks nothing like yours… breathe, try it again, and smile. It might not be your favorite dish, but it might be the favorite of someone else who is also homesick. And there, without realizing it, you’ll be sharing much more than a meal: you’ll be sharing love, respect, and humanity.