Veronica Zelada

Trudging down a remote dirt road in Tijuana, Mexico, Verónica Zelada’s only wish was to hug her children. In Guatemala, she had left a home wrecked by the beatings of an abusive husband. Verónica had decided that immigrating to the United States was her only option, but now, in Tijuana, penniless and hungry, she had no idea where to go. Moments earlier, she had left the covacha [hut] where she waited for days to cross the border, but Veronica feared her children, already at her sister-in-law’s in California, were distressed having not heard from her. That fear made her chest wrench with pain. She had nothing to lose behind her and everything to lose in front. She must survive.

That survival instinct was familiar from childhood. As a young girl in Guatemala, her family’s situation was so dire they once moved to an abandoned train car for housing. Poverty gripped tightly, yes, but ingenuity never failed them.

“My mother, Corina, set a food cart outside the train cars to feed the men who worked nearby,” she recalls through a distant stare. “I helped prepare caldo de res, picadillo, chiles rellenos, but my main job was seasoning and marinating the meat. We sold out every day and the men asked for more.” It’s an experience she had almost forgotten, even though the resilience and resourcefulness of those years of need marked Verónica’s path.

In Tijuana, with its heat and uncertainty, Verónica kept faith. “God never abandoned me,” she states. “Out of nowhere, a man drove by and realized I was lost. He drove me into town and paid for the long-distance phone call to communicate with my family. In the end, he left me at a hotel where I finally slept without fear. Then, I simply crossed the border. I didn’t look back.”

Nothing came easy, though. At some points she worked three jobs: as a school’s night janitor, in the kitchen at a donut shop, and at Café do Brasil. “Despite working these jobs, I couldn’t afford to support my family. So, I remembered the days in the train cars and decided to cook. I started with 10 plates and offered them at a construction site near the apartments where we lived. The workers bought them all!”

Smoke and the smell of food filled the apartment where she lived. The stove pumped constant heat. The sink overflowed with dishes and pots. Veronica macerated, chopped, and seasoned. Smells and colors transported her to her homeland, but with a new hope. Soon, the 10 dishes became 20 and then 40. She couldn’t keep up.

But it was her mother, when she came to visit, who declared: “You’re going to have a restaurant. God has told me so.”

“I didn’t listen at the time,” Verónica chuckles. “Later, I realized that I had learned a lot in the five years I worked at Café do Brasil. Also, there wasn’t another Guatemalan restaurant in Oklahoma, so I opened El Portal Café. But in the end, I sold it. It didn’t work out for me.”

However, she never felt defeated. She went back to working mornings and evenings — back to survival mode. Her university was the Cheesecake Factory, where she learned the inner workings of the restaurant business. Between that education and the help of her children, the concept of Café Kacao began to take shape.

“One day I was driving along Classen Boulevard when I saw an old tire shop for rent. I didn’t think twice. Everything I went through in life had prepared me for that moment.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you must not stop reinventing yourself.”

The server places a Tikal breakfast in front of us and its sweet aroma delights our noses. We’re sitting at a table in her restaurant, far away from the troubles of Guatemala, Mexico, and California. Despite the tribulations, the menu offered at Café Kacao doesn’t speak of a Guatemala of hardships and heartbreak. On the contrary, it invites you to taste the Guatemala Verónica loves: a warm, biodiverse, colorful country with a rich cultural heritage.

“I combine elements of the traditional cuisine I learned from my mom with new flavors, even with dishes from other Latin American countries, because that’s what it’s all about: continuing to innovate,” she says. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you must not stop reinventing yourself.”

Cafe Kacao employs over 50 Oklahomans and serves roughly 10,000 guests every month. It has become a staple of Oklahoma’s increasingly culturally diverse culinary scene, as well as a successful family-owned restaurant for over 10 years.

All around us, the restaurant bursts with the conversations of satisfied diners, while Verónica — woman, mother, immigrant, believer, businesswoman, and survivor — confesses:

“I have more projects. With God’s blessing, I’m not done yet.”