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As he served the delivery workers near the Chick-fil-A recently, a worker from the fast-food chain poked his head out of the door, and yelled, asking what kind of arepas he had.

Other New Yorkers have opened their kitchens so migrant women could make arepas to sell.

I am Venezuelan, so my interest in arepas — or rather — my love for arepas, started in childhood.

A double unit with kitchen items, including an arepa maker.

“As adults, we can last all day even with just an arepa, but with those kids, how do you tell a child there’s no food?”