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Follow the main road, count three traffic lights, and take a
left at the third. You'll find a security post there.
"It's a white-and-blue house, the entrance is through
the car park," added the email instructions. "Don't tell the guards
you are coming to 'Ciboulette Prive', but on a private visit."
As with living-room restaurants that flourished in Havana in
the 1990s after the fall of its Soviet benefactor, Caracas is seeing a rise in
clandestine dining as inventive restaurateurs seek ways to survive economic
crisis, corruption and crime.
Chefs and owners complain that operating a normal restaurant
profitably has become increasingly problematic as state controls limit price
increases despite roaring inflation and bribery is the only way to get permits
in a timely fashion.
Furthermore, crime has made diners seek ever-more private
and secure settings, while shortages of ingredients make it difficult to
maintain a steady menu.
So private dining gives the chefs far more flexibility -
and, crucially, less scrutiny.
"No one knows where we are until we tell them. This is
an illegal restaurant," acknowledged Ana, the 24-year-old head chef at
Ciboulette Prive, or 'Private Chive' in English, set in her cousin's back
garden in a wealthy Caracas neighborhood. She asked that her surname not be
published for fear of reprisal.
The elegantly-decorated Ciboulette Prive, which opened in
October, serves 16 people under a mango tree with retro artwork on the garden
wall and vintage vinyl records as place mats.
It charges 3,000 bolivars per person. That's around $7 at
the black market exchange rate or $475 at Venezuela's strongest official
exchange.
The bolivar amount is nearly two weeks of work at minimum wage,
out of reach for average Venezuelans who have no access to dollars and for whom
even simple meals out can be a distant memory.
Many now instead spend hours lining up under the hot
Caribbean sun for basics like flour, chicken or milk.
Inflation eats up their purchasing power, leaving little
room for nights out, let alone big purchases or travel.
"Venezuela must be one of the hardest places to do
gastronomy," said the restaurant's owner, 21-year-old Emiliano, who
studies business administration at Caracas' Metropolitan University. He also
asked that his surname not be published.
Around half a dozen small illegal eateries have sprung up
around the city over the last year, mainly publicized through word of mouth,
phone calls with owners, and social media.
They are becoming popular with wealthy Venezuelans and
foreigners, keen to try new food, jump on the latest trend, or escape from the
well-known circuit of high-end restaurants.
"The chefs often take more creative risks so you get
fancy mousses and foams, long-braised meats and fruits and vegetables that are
harder to find," said one western diplomat who frequents the illegal
restaurants, asking not to be named.
Venezuelan government officials did not respond to requests
for comment. However, chefs and restaurant-owners said officials tolerate their
outlets and sometimes even eat there.
To stock Ciboulette Prive, Emiliano spends hours visiting
different shops and suppliers due to widespread shortages plaguing
recession-hit Venezuela for the last two years.
On a recent day, he had just bought beef for 1,660 bolivars
per kilo that six months ago cost 600. Such a rise is typical in Venezuela,
where official annual inflation was 69 percent last year and is estimated to be
heading for triple figures in 2015.
Venezuelan diners, across all outlets, are used to seeing
menus covered in scribbles as prices update frequently or asking the waiter
what they actually have before even looking at the menu.
Some of the home-based restaurants charge in U.S. dollars,
breaking local laws but following a trend in which foreign currency - or their
equivalent black market value - is increasingly the basis of transactions.
In Los Chorros, an upscale district at the bottom of
Caracas' Avila mountain, Eduardo Moreno, 53, runs La Isabela.
He is the father of clandestine dining in Venezuela.
"Nine years ago, I realized the situation here would
drastically worsen," he said, sat on the tropical plant-filled outdoor
terrace of his colonial-style house which doubles as a restaurant.
Moreno charges $55, in U.S. dollars, per person, preferably
paid by an international bank transfer. Given Venezuela's current climate, that
figure is painfully expensive for anyone not earning in foreign currency.
It equates to about three months of salary at the minimum
wage.
Moreno sends out his menu every week by email to a group of
regulars. The food on offer is more exotic than many of Venezuela's restaurants
as Moreno makes a point of getting out of the country every few weeks.
"I come back to Venezuela with contraband," he
said with a smile. "I'm a smuggler. I bring in food from the rest of the
world, from India, France, Indonesia, Spain... long-grain basmati, short-grain
basmati, foie gras."
Many of the restaurateurs would prefer to run establishments
in the open though they see the economic climate as too stifling.
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edited from Reuters
