Before coming to Australia, I worked as a teacher in Colombia for many years. After a long day, I would come home and enjoy a plate of delicious Colombian food. Food was always an important part of our home and our family life.

My days in Colombia were also guided by a desire to help others. Social commitment was always part of my work as a teacher, alongside my passion for education and sharing knowledge.

One day, I decided to leave Colombia and move to Australia to study English. It was not an easy decision.

After arriving in Australia and beginning my studies, I started to miss something deeply familiar: the smell and taste of Colombian food.

I began wondering how many other Colombians living far from home might be feeling exactly the same way.

I missed mornings beginning with a warm arepa and hot chocolate, a traditional tamal, and lunches with dishes such as sancocho de gallina or bandeja paisa. I kept remembering the traditional recipes from home, especially Colombian empanadas.

Then, one day, a friend of mine was going through a difficult time. She did not have a job and needed help paying her rent.

We decided to make empanadas together.

I followed the recipe I had learned from my mother when I was a child. She had patiently taught me every step, and I also remembered accompanying her when she sold them.

As I prepared the dough, potatoes and meat, and the familiar aromas began to fill the kitchen, memories of my childhood came flooding back. I even remembered exactly how my mother used to shape each empanada.

Most importantly, I remembered something she always told me:

“In life, you have to learn everything, because you never know when you might need it.”

Those words had stayed with me.

When we finished making the empanadas, we advertised them among our contacts. What had started simply as a way to help someone in need quickly became something much bigger.

People loved them.

One of our customers believed in what we were doing and helped us begin selling our empanadas at a pub. That was when a simple idea started becoming a real business.

It did not take long before we bought our first uniforms and kitchen utensils. We knew we had to give it a chance.

Soon, we added more Colombian favourites, including arepas de huevo and papas rellenas. Every new recipe gave Colombian customers another connection to their culture and introduced people from other countries to the flavours of Colombia.

People began ordering our empanadas for parties and social gatherings. Colombian customers wanted to share the food they loved with friends from many different nationalities.

Eventually, I had the opportunity to prepare much more than empanadas.

For the first time in my life, I began working as a cook.

It was a major challenge. I wanted every dish to have the right flavour and for every customer to leave happy. Once again, I found myself thinking about my childhood and everything my mother had taught me—not only about empanadas, but about many traditional Colombian dishes.

Recipes that I had never imagined preparing professionally during my years as a teacher in Colombia suddenly became part of my everyday life in Australia.

Through memories, practice and countless hours revisiting recipes, I became more confident in the kitchen. Customers began recognising the authentic flavours of Colombian cuisine, and seeing their happiness motivated me to continue improving.

With every passing year, I refined the recipes while keeping the culinary secrets and traditions I had learned from my mother at the heart of everything I prepared.

One New Year’s Eve, on December 31, while far away from Colombia, I remembered another family tradition.

My grandmother used to prepare a big sancocho for the entire family.

Inspired by that memory, I decided to do the same in Australia.

I invited anyone who wanted to join us and prepared a traditional sancocho trifásico. Soon, the apartment was filled with people laughing, talking and enjoying the sancocho together.

We served it for free.

Even today, some customers remember that first sancocho and tell us how, for a moment, it made them feel as though they were back home.

The journey, however, was not always easy.

The costs of running the business were high, and supporting staff was difficult. Still, seeing customers smile when they came to enjoy Colombian food gave me the motivation to continue.

In Colombia, we have a saying:

“No hay mal que por bien no venga.”

Every difficult situation can eventually bring something good.

Not long afterwards, the car I used to transport food and ingredients was stolen while it was loaded with supplies. Everything I had inside was gone.

At that moment, it felt as though everything might be over.

But I decided to keep going.

With the insurance money from the stolen car, I bought another vehicle and continued working. I returned to one of the restaurants where I had previously worked and remained there for three years.

Eventually, I was asked to leave that location.

Once again, I considered giving up.

But one of our regular Australian customers encouraged me not to stop. He believed in Latin Manna and helped me search for another location.

And do you know where that location is?

It is the place you are standing in today.

This place has become very special to us and to many of our customers.

For some, Latin Manna is more than a restaurant. It is a connection to their culture, their family and their memories.

Many customers describe our food with one simple word:

“Delicious.”

But sometimes the reaction goes much deeper than that.

We have seen customers become emotional and even cry after tasting a dish that reminds them of home. And sometimes, we become emotional with them.

Imagine living on the other side of the world, thousands of kilometres away from Colombia, and suddenly tasting something you have not experienced for years—a flavour that takes you straight back to your mother’s or grandmother’s kitchen.

Those moments are at the heart of Latin Manna.

I thank God for this journey and for everything I learned at home, especially the recipes, techniques and culinary secrets passed down to me by my mother, who was my first mentor in the kitchen.

The name “Manna” also has a special meaning for us.

In the Bible, manna was the food God provided to the people of Israel when they were hungry in the desert.

In the same way, I believe Colombian and Latin American food can mean something very special to people living far away from home. After years without tasting the dishes they grew up with, finding those familiar flavours on the other side of the world can feel like finding manna in the desert.

Food does more than nourish the body.

It can also nourish the soul.

That is why, every day at Latin Manna, we work to make our customers happy, reconnect them with their culture and their memories, and introduce Australians and people from all around the world to the richness of Colombian cuisine.

For me, Latin Manna has been a blessing from God—one that I now have the privilege of sharing with Colombians, Australians and everyone who appreciates the beautiful cultural diversity of this country.

And that is why I describe what we offer at Latin Manna in one simple way:

Food for the soul.