
The Colombian Chefs Revitalizing the Country's Food Scene
Chapinero Alto, the locus of Bogotá’s food scene , could just about pass for London’s Hampstead-aside from the 2,600 meters of altitude, the yellow trumpet bushes and the emerald surrounds of the Andes . The broad avenues of this smart district are lined with mid-20th-century red-brick mansions designed by French-Colombian architect Rogelio Salmona, who reimagined Eurocentric modernism for a post-independence Colombia . Today, one such building is occupied by another national pioneer: Eduardo MartĂnez, one of the founding fathers of a burgeoning Colombian food movement that increasingly rivals Peru in the 50 Best lists of restaurants and bars. Back in 2001, when the capital city was defined by mediocre European offerings, MartĂnez opened Mini-Mal , which is dedicated to social change by using Indigenous rites, and flora and fauna from one of the planet’s most biodiverse countries. One thousand varieties of fruit, from mangosteen to soursop, grow across Colombia’s more than 300 ecosystems, which span the Amazon , Caribbean, and Pacific, and are home to 65 Indigenous languages. Yet the nation had been a stranger to itself, cleaved by three Andean ranges and more than 50 years of political and drug-related violence that only officially ended in 2016, when a peace deal was reached with the last faction, FARC (Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia). Mini-Mal was an extension of former agronomist MartĂnez’s research into alternative uses of plants and animals, acknowledging the rights of Afro-Colombian communities on the Pacific coast. Descendants of West African slaves, they and Indigenous peoples had no land rights before the 1991 constitution. “They were guardians of all this biodiversity and Indigenous produce but they had no idea of the treasures they possessed. Moreover, they had no customers,” says MartĂnez. Growing coca leaves for cocaine producers was often a good option for farmers. “During the narcoterrorism of the ’90s, there was a huge exodus of chefs from Colombia. The restaurant was a platform to empower suppliers economically and help them take pride in their identities.” At first, “rolos”-the Bogotános-were perplexed by Mini-Mal’s ingredients, from mollusks harvested in Pacific mangroves to umami-packed tucupĂ, fermented from cassava by women in the Amazon . “Before, pasta was the luxury,” says MartĂnez’s wife and partner, Antonuela Ariza. “Now it’s tucupĂ.” A nearby mansion is the new home of Salvo Patria -Save the Homeland-the seasonal, waste-conscious restaurant of Juan Manuel Ortiz and Alejandro GutiĂ©rrez VĂ©lez. Originally a cafĂ©, it was founded in 2011 by Ortiz, who previously worked in Melbourne as a barista. “I was told that Colombian coffee was the best in the world, but at home we were only drinking NescafĂ©,” or coffee that was “too low quality to sell”, he tells me. Traditionally, Colombians made “sock coffee”, filtered through a cloth and sweetened with sugar cane juice. Ortiz changed that with V60 drippers and quality domestic beans from small producers-a matter of national pride for the world’s largest exporter of washed Arabica beans. GutiĂ©rrez VĂ©lez, who grew up close to the coffee-growing Antioquia region and had worked at...
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