Venezuela’s been in the news a lot lately.
Though our 15 minutes of top-of-the-news attention span surrounding the ouster of Nicolás Maduro may have already expired, one likely outcome is that the Venezuelan diaspora already in the U.S. and elsewhere will only increase.
Bad for the Texas-sized South American country, but good for us — especially where food is concerned.
A quick Google search of Venezuelan restaurants and food trucks in San Antonio yields at least 15 results, with the latest, Llaneros Grill, having recently taken over the space until recently occupied by Cascabel in Southtown. Open since 2023, Leiah Venezuelan Food on Starcrest seemed as good a place as any to start my exploration.
One origin of the name Leiah comes from the Hebrew where it means “weary” or “delicate” — neither of which describes the food or the surroundings at this restaurant. The space itself could charitably be called “uncomplicated,” with the only color coming from a TV screen, some shelving displaying Venezuelan products for sale and a rack of vibrant soccer jerseys.
And for its part, the food could hardly be called delicate. It’s sturdy, homey and straightforward — not bad things at all as an order of empanadas confirmed.
Wrapped in a dough of cornmeal and flour, the generous half-moon pockets are available in eight iterations, all unabashedly fried. Picking one up with your fingers may render them a tad greasy — but it’s worth it.
Pollo mechado is a classic filling in which the chicken is first cooked in flavored bouillon, then shredded and cooked again, typically with bell peppers, onion, garlic and spices such as cumin and annatto. The result is robustly flavored, juicy and is only enhanced by a squeeze or two from one of two bottled salsas.
Equally juicy, though differently spiced, are the seafood empanadas bursting with chopped shrimp, octopus, squid and mussels. It’s a vibrant combo. The arepa filled with black beans and queso paisa, or llanero, delivers exactly what’s anticipated. You can rarely go wrong with bean and cheese, and these don’t disappoint.
Perhaps even more typically Venezuelan — and Colombian — are the arepas. Consisting of large, gordita-like split discs usually made from a dried, cornmeal-based mix, these are a mouthful and more. One is easily enough for a meal; two are an indulgence, especially following a trio of empanadas. Let out your belt a notch and start with La Peluda, your first introduction to carne mechada, the beefy equivalent of the chicken above.
There’s a little chew to the savory, shredded carne — just enough to let one know that this is serious stuff. Pliant, shredded cheese plays straight man to the boisterous beef, but there’s still room to appreciate the corn-based qualities of the arepa.
The arepa is also a team player in the exuberantly stuffed Pabellon.
In this baroque concoction, the corn cake is filled to the gills with more carne mechada and cheese, but the meat is joined by black beans and fried, ripe plantain. It’s a flavor bomb, and with some effort it can be cut in half to serve two.
But it’s nothing compared to the plate that is the Patacón.
It might help to think of this as a sandwich bracketed not by bread but instead by two, flat and crisp discs of fried, green plantain. The build starts with another disc of boiled ham, which tends to get lost in the crowd. Then, if you opt for an optional combination of carne and pollo mechada as we did, it will be accompanied by fried plantain, shredded cheeses, avocado and a salad of sorts. No black beans, at least. The end result is enormous and utterly impossible to cut in two with the implements at hand.
And yet, it’s almost irresistible if you pick away at the well-sauced interior a bit before attempting any sharing. The paper-lined basket may look like a trainwreck in the end, but so be it.
Leiah also offers its own Venezuelan version of enhanced perros, or hot dogs — one of the more elaborate versions running $25. It also offers similarly souped-up hamburguesas, including the Leiah Burger, which somehow manages to stuff pork chop, bacon, sausage, egg and chips into a sandwich already sporting chicken and beef. It sounds like a challenge worth returning for.
We did sample the fruit jugos and can confidently say that the sweet-tart parchita (passion fruit) provides a pleasant contrast to the menu’s robust flavors, while the guanabana, tasting like a mix of mango and pineapple, is equally appealing.
There is no beer on Leiah’s menu, but I’d bet that a soccer match featuring Venezuela might draw a boisterous crowd and put that TV to good use. Nothing like perros and partisans.
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