With dripping cheese and sizzling pork, these Venezuelan cachapas are a must-eat
El Venezolano is located at 818 Danforth Ave.
My first time trying cachapa, a traditional Venezuelan pancake made from corn batter, was a year and a half ago at a food market in Bogota, Colombia.
There was a queue forming outside a popular flower market near the city centre, but the line wasn't for flowers. It snaked towards a small tent near the entrance.
Behind the stand was a Venezuelan family. One person prepped a batter that was thick and yellow in colour; one sliced large slabs of white queso de mano (handmade cheese); one tended to a mound of butter as orange as the Ziricote tree flowers that vendors displayed nearby; and the matriarch patiently stood next to a large flat top grill, covered with yellow batter stretched into large circles.
The immediate vicinity was a perfume of sugar and corn, caramelizing under high heat. The smells were intoxicating: it was just after 6 a.m., and everyone was starved.
As minutes passed, the pancakes were flipped, revealing a thin brown crust. Locals waited anxiously as the cachapas were loaded, one by one, onto serving paper, smeared with butter, layered with thick slabs of cheese and folded.
They each took their breakfast and ran off into the market.
Maybe it was the prolonged wait on an empty stomach in the early hours of the morning, but the taste of the cachapa stuck with me.
"There are maybe a couple of Venezuelan restaurants in Toronto, but cachapas will be hard to find, " Albert Robertson told me.
Robertson is part of the family behind the El Venezolano restaurant on the Danforth. The restaurant is young — just a year old on the edge of Greektown.
Prior to that, Robertson and his parents launched their food business with a stand at the Downsview Market. The stand is still there — tucked away at the end of what I think is an incredible Latin American themed food court.
I rediscovered the cachapa when I visited the Robertsons' stand months after my trip.
"Cachapas are still new to Torontonians," Robertson said. "If you speak to any Latin American person, they will know it immediately. We all have some version of a corn pancake in our culture."
Colombian restaurants have a slightly altered version of this dish called arepas de choclo.
Robertson cooks the cachapas the way his parents and grandparents used to make it: a simple batter of freshly-shucked corn with a little bit of salt and sugar. It's cooked like a pancake, but for a longer period of time.
"You can't cheat with cachapa. You have to make it fresh. It takes time," Robertson said as he carefully checked under the cachapa for the right colour.
The restaurant is located on an interesting part of the Danforth strip, just after the iconic "Thank you for Visiting" sign.
As you head towards Donlands and Greenwood stations, the area defies categorization. There are Ethiopian cafes and restaurants, a Japanese curry shop and a Pakistani biscuit shop. Cultures are mingling in a five-block radius.
There is a Mexican restaurant that has Indian curries as a secret menu item. The Greek butcher shop brings in fresh batches of injera — Ethiopian flatbread — every week.
It's an area of the city that demands a slow stroll and curious inquisition to peel through the layers.
When Robertson moved to the Danforth, he noticed that the majority of his customers were non-Venezuelans that were curious about his culture and food. The menu is an assembly of arepas, empanadas (they are excellent) and seafood dishes that celebrate the coastal dining of Venezuela.
When the cachapas are ready to be flipped, Robertson starts to speed up. The brown crust gets immediate love with generous brushes of butter, then he places thin strips of cheese on top.
Queso de mano is hard to come by in Toronto so Robertson uses queso de nata cheese, which has a similar texture and taste. The cachapa is then folded and sauced.
If you like meat, the best way to have cachapa is with pork. Robertson gives pork butt and leg a long marinade before it's seared off on the grill and sandwiched in between the cachapa.
It's then laced with a house sauce which brings some creaminess and tang.
I recommend you eat at the restaurant — don't get the cachapas to go. The best way to enjoy the caramel sweetness of peak Ontario corn is when it's hot and slightly bubbling from the butter.
Robertson's dad, Jorge, makes an incredible, chunky hot sauce. If you want some kick, ask for it.