They fled Venezuela over kidnappings. Now a father and son bake bread in Doral
A line of masked customers stretched down the Doral strip mall outside Caracas Bakery, being let in one at a time.
No one rushed. Patient shoppers chatted or flicked at their phones on a recent Saturday, nailed in place by the scent of buttery croissants and fresh-baked artisanal sourdough bread that puffed every time the door swung.
Inside, the reward: A six-foot counter piled high with a unique mix of French-style and Venezuelan baked goods, from naturally leavened sourdough to cultural classics such as pan canilla and campesino, similar to French baguettes, cachitos, pan dulces and pasteles.
For father and son Manuel and Jesús Brazón, who fled Venezuela and started unlikely careers in baking just as the pandemic started, their first year in business has ended the way it began: with the aroma of their bread bringing customers to their door.
“Despite the pandemic, we never stopped,” Jesús Brazón said. “People really embraced us and that made us keep going.”
The lines out the door were years quietly in the making.
A son ‘hypnotized’ by breadmaking
Jesús Brazón, the only son of Manuel and Scarlett Rojas, left Venezuela in 2008 during a time of increasing economic strife and violence after being kidnapped for ransom in the capital city Caracas — a traumatic event for his and countless other families who suffered a similar fate. (More than 680 were reported in 2012 alone, according to the Institute for the Investigation of Citizen Security.)
He hopped from Canada to New York City, studying and working odd jobs, trying to make a new life for himself. That’s when a friend took him for lunch at Chelsea Market and he stopped in front of a bakery where they were kneading naturally leavened sourdough bread.
“I was hypnotized just watching them work the dough,” he said. After earning a design certificate from Marymount Manhattan College, he took a job offer to come to Wynwood, where he found himself a next-door neighbor to Zak the Baker bakery.
He hung around the bakery and started watching YouTube videos on how to make a sourdough starter to bake his own bread at home. He modified his apartment stove with lava rocks and spraying water to make steam, a crucial ingredient in baking a chewy sourdough bread.
“For two years, I couldn’t even eat my own bread. It was bitter, nasty,” he recalled. “My poor roommate couldn’t even use the stove to warm up his food.”
Dad follows his passion at 50
Jesús may have picked up this passion from his father. Manuel Brazón worked an unromantic job in building security but came home to bake cupcakes. He started sending his son to school with them and when the school caught on, they started buying cupcakes from Manuel to sell in the cafeteria. He was baking as many as 500 a night after work.
When Manuel, 61, visited his son in Miami during a trip in 2012, he saw the operation at Zak the Baker and was as mesmerized as his son had been on that day in New York City. Manuel decided he would work there one day. He returned to Caracas, retired from his job, and started taking baking and pastry classes at a cooking school.
In 2014, as threats of kidnappings surged again, Manuel and his wife joined their son in South Florida. And two years later, he begged Zak Stern to let him apprentice at his Zak the Baker — although he didn’t speak English. He worked there four years, learning every job in the bakery.
“Basically I spoke to him in Italian with a sawesera accent,” Stern said. “He’s the real deal. He’s part of the food culture of Miami that we need. Stories like his are the most important ones in Miami.”
Jesús had already decided to open a bakery with his childhood friend, Luis Mauricio Payares, who would run the business side. He traveled around the country, tasting artisanal breads from New York to San Francisco and working on his skills. He traveled with a scale in his luggage, buying everything from breads to croissants, bringing them back to his room to weigh them so he could one day replicate his own versions.
They found a 1,000-square-foot closet of a space in Doral, jammed it with used equipment and started testing Jesús’ sourdough in the unfinished space.
Bringing sourdough to Doral
The aroma of the bread wafted out of the store, down the hallways, around the neighboring houses and brought unexpected knocks on their door. People asked to buy their test bread. They offered $2 a loaf, $5, $10. In January of 2020, a month before they were set to open, they started letting in customers.
“It was the smell — wow. The smell was incredible,” Payares remembered.
“It was crazy, to be honest,” Jesús added. “That night, we prepped to open and started selling the next day.”
Lines formed. They sold out by noon. Business got so that they couldn’t do it alone. Jesús asked his father to leave his dream job of four years at Zak the Baker to join him — and add pastries, croissants and sweets to the menu.
“We never thought to do this in a commercial way, but here we are,” Manuel said.
The bakery became a family affair. Payares, who left Venezuela with his longtime partner and their 12-year-old daughter, brought her in, and she suggested they start making chopped ham-and-cheese stuffed cachitos. Brazón’s mother, Scarlet, made all the holiday pan de jamón. The staff became like family. They even brought in a pair of apprentices the way Stern had done for Manuel.
“It was a bunch of parallel stories that converged,” Jesús said.
The bakery became a fusion of baked goods made with classic techniques and breads that were traditionally Venezuelan, all using quality (and expensive) ingredients from French butter to imported flour.
One customer, who hadn’t been back to Venezuela in 25 years, was moved to tears as he ate a cachito with a Frescolita red soda — food he hadn’t tasted since his childhood.
“That filled me with pride,” Manuel said. “We brought that memory back for him through food. And that’s what motivates me.”
Stern stopped by as the bakery turned a year old last week for a full sampling. He was perfectly fine with waiting his turn in a line.
“He took his food culture and combined it with what he learned to elevate their bakery,” Stern said. “It’s important we champion people like Manuel. He’s the real deal.”
Caracas Bakery
Where: 7884 NW 52nd St., Doral
Hours: 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. Tuesday-Saturday; 8 a.m.-2 p.m. Sunday; Closed Monday.
Info: 305-392-0270.
This story was originally published February 5, 2021 at 6:00 AM.
