In Canada for almost 10 years, Leonardo Barbosa, 44, from Pernambuco, has always cooked Brazilian food at home, a couple of immigrants.
He lives in Calgary, in the western province of Alberta. However, he could find almost all the ingredients he needed for Brazilian cuisine, except for the traditional dried meat, or carne de charque.
According to him, the product could not be purchased anywhere in North America.
Leonardo and his wife, Adriana Barbosa, 42, moved to Canada in search of a better quality of life. He, an agricultural engineer, was a businessman in Recife, and Adriana worked as a graphic designer.
Language
By the time they arrived in the country, Adriana had already mastered English and went to work with her brother, who had already settled in the country. Leonardo didn't speak a word of the language and went to work bagging potatoes.
Gradually, he learned the language and managed to enter the market. Until, in 2016, a diagnosis changed the course of the couple's lives. Adriana was five months pregnant when she learned that the baby had Total Atrioventricular Septal Defect, or AVTSD. However, the condition is characterized by a malformation that compromises communication between the heart's atria. Half of babies with the condition have Down syndrome.
After the initial diagnosis, tests confirmed that the couple's son would be born with Down syndrome. "It was a huge shock to process that with so many expectations," said Adriana.
From that day on, Leonardo accompanied his wife to all her doctor's appointments—and there were many. His missed work days led to his dismissal. When Oliver was born, Leonardo stayed home to care for his son while his wife worked.
And it was just before the arrival of another cold season in Canada, while lying in a hammock, that Leonardo had the idea to try a recipe that would change the family's history. He salted and hung two pieces of meat in the kitchen of their Calgary apartment.
"When he said he was going to do it here, I said, 'For God's sake, the house will smell.' I only thought about the practical part," said Adriana. Leonardo insisted to his wife. He said he really missed it, that he was going to do it, and that it would work. So when the meat was ready, they invited a couple of friends over for dinner. Leonardo began to think that perhaps he was looking at a business opportunity.
Northeastern cassava
“When they came in, she [my friend] could already smell it and said, 'I know that smell.' Even though I put cooked cassava on the table and brought the meat with onions, she didn't even wait for me to put it on the table; she immediately put her fork in and took it out of the pan. Then she put it in her mouth, closed her eyes, and smiled. So she said, 'Where did you get that?' I told her I had made it, and she said, 'I want a kilo.'”
With the meat's flavor approved, Leonardo decided it was worth a try. It took 13 months of scientific research and development before beginning production of the jerky in Canada. Jerky, as prepared in Brazil, cannot be exported to North America because it doesn't comply with those countries' laws.
Although the research process involved testing and analysis, everything was already documented and supported by the Canadian federal food inspection agency, the CFIA. At the time, he says, since nothing similar to jerky existed, the product was analyzed under the strictest Canadian regulations.
“They used the most stringent criteria they had on the meat production scale, because if we met all the most stringent requirements, we would be safe from a technical/scientific point of view,” said Leonardo.
In the final phase of testing, the meat still didn't taste as good as Leonardo wanted. On the way home, a song by Zé Ramalho gave Leonardo the strength to stay motivated.
Correct the errors
“I got into my truck disappointed, coming back from the factory, and then Zé Ramalho started singing to me: 'Now I'm getting a truck/I'm going to be knocked out again on the canvas.' Then I said: 'Wow, but I'm knocked out, but every fight in which someone gets knocked out, there's always another fight and the person fights again to try to get revenge.' So I said: 'We were knocked out, but we can overcome it.'”
Leonardo returned to his research, corrected the error, and managed to make the dried meat taste exactly like the one he ate as a child in Brazil.
"The whole problem with the product is developing flavor. You don't just add salt to a piece of meat and make jerky. People eat jerky not because they want to eat dehydrated meat. They want to eat the flavor that's ingrained in their DNA. They grew up eating jerky. However, a piece of meat tastes like the meat their grandmother or mother made," he said.
Lead Foods
However, on July 11, 2018, with the company now registered as Lead Foods, Leonardo sold the first box of jerky, bearing the Canadian federal inspection seal. "The person who bought it posted it on social media. That night, I received nearly 100 emails from various parts of Canada."
However, days later, the jerky became available for purchase online. Gradually, physical stores such as supermarkets and markets that sell Latin American products began selling the jerky, and today there are 32 outlets in the country. With his presence in the Canadian market established, Leonardo set out on an even bolder path: entering the American market.
Therefore, the company already has an online platform ready to ship nationwide, and Leonardo Casal also has a list of physical stores interested in reselling the dried meat.
He says that in Canada he has already received many emotional messages from Brazilians who have tried his dried meat and that now it is time to take the product with a Northeastern flavor to more Brazilians.
Children
Therefore, the company, which employs around 12 people, allows Leonardo to have time to dedicate to his son, Oliver, 3. The boy changed the couple's story, and Leonardo says he is like a light.
"He's a very happy child today. He exudes joy, he's contagious. No one gets serious around him."
When he recalls the beginning of his journey in the country, Leonardo still gets emotional. "I came here without speaking English. Today, I'm registered with the provincial agronomist's institute and have phone conversations with inspection personnel from the Canadian and American governments. I deal with high-ranking people I never imagined. For an immigrant who came here without speaking English, without knowing what he was going to do with his life, it's a lot."