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Plantains, flan and lots of olives

Two new Publix Sabor stores are almost entirely devoted to Hispanic and Caribbean merchandise.

By TAMARA LUSH
Published May 21, 2005

HIALEAH - On Friday afternoon, Anjelica Arrello paused at the dairy case in her new Publix. She was looking for drinkable yogurt, but not just any drinkable yogurt - she wanted the creamy one she knew and loved in Colombia, her homeland.

Her gaze settled on a half-gallon plastic jug of milky liquid labeled "Kumis."

""Ay, siiii," said the 54-year-old Arrello, sighing with relief. ""Divino."

Lakeland-based Publix has always tried to please its Latino customers such as Arrello with an array of specialty foods, but recently Florida's leading grocer went beyond the typical ethnic foods aisle approach. In the past month, the company has opened two stores devoted almost exclusively to Hispanic and Caribbean merchandise.

Called Publix Sabor (sabor means "taste" in Spanish), the supermarkets are in Kissimmee and Hialeah, where there are large Puerto Rican and Cuban populations, respectively.

The trick to a concept like this is meeting the needs of a Hispanic population that encompasses a wide range of nationalities, cultures and, of course, tastes. Each store carries favorites from those two island nations, but Publix executives are banking on a vast inventory to draw customers from just about all Latin American and Caribbean countries, along with the traditional Anglo shoppers.

"We're trying to be the one-stop place for our customers," said Maria Brous, director of media and community relations.

For instance, at the newest Publix Sabor, in Hialeah, shoppers can buy green fava beans (Puerto Rico), spiced buns (Jamaica) and Biscoito de Polvilhol (crunchy Brazilian snacks) - all in one aisle.

Plus, Holy Water for a $1.39 bottle at one end of the store and discounted Escada fragrance at the perfume counter at the other.

Space for popular items in any other Publix, such as pickles, has shrunk to make room. At the Hialeah Sabor, for instance, shoppers can peruse 12 linear feet of olives on eight shelves. There are four linear feet of pickles. At a standard Publix those numbers would be reversed.

Right now, there are no plans to open a Sabor in the Tampa Bay area, although Brous says the company will study the sales of the new stores and decide whether to expand in the coming months.

New stores may be inevitable. Not only are Hispanics the fastest-growing immigrant group in the United States, but they are the fastest-growing consumer segment: according to the Food Marketing Institute, Hispanic families had the purchasing power of $686-billion in 2004. The figure is expected to reach $1-trillion by 2010.

And they like to grocery shop. During surveys, FMI found that Hispanic shoppers make an average of 26 grocery trips per month, three times greater than the general U.S. population.

"It's a market where food for consumption at home is more important than average U.S. households," said Bill Bishop, founder of Bishop Willard Consulting, a retail consulting firm in Barrington, Ill.

Bishop has noticed that specialty stores are popular with first-generation immigrants, who feel a deep connection with their countries.

That sort of connection to countries, to stores and to food is why Publix executives traveled around the Caribbean and Latin America, visiting markets and grocery stores before opening the Sabor supermarkets.

They held focus groups to determine that shoppers want bilingual staff, salsa and merengue music on the loudspeakers and warmer-toned oranges, yellows and green colors throughout the store.

They decided to open the first store in Kissimmee, where Hispanics comprise 42 percent of the population. That store opened in late April. The decision to open in Hialeah was a no-brainer: the city of 228,000 has a higher percentage of residents (93 percent) who speak a foreign language than any other U.S. city with more than 100,000 residents, the Census Bureau says. That language is overwhelmingly Spanish.

The Publix team also visited supermarkets around the United States. They discovered many Hispanics are brand loyal. They are accustomed to buying bread at bread stores (panaderias), meat at the butcher shop (carnecerias) and fruit and juices from roadside stands.

As a result, the Hialeah Sabor has a produce department that sells half-gallons of tropical juices, a bakery that sells 100 authentic pastries from a half-dozen countries and a meat department with a cut-to-order counter. There's a cafeteria-style counter where people can buy fried plantains and chicharrones (fried pork fat) and where those with a sweet tooth can grab a slice of decadent flan, a custard-like cake, to go.

It also has a walkup window so customers can grab a cafe con leche or a cigar.

Ethnic supermarkets are a growing niche in places such as Texas, Arizona and California, yet less so in Florida. South Florida boasts a 27-store chain called Sedanos that caters to Latinos, but in Central Florida, immigrants rely on the ethnic food aisle of their local supermarket.

Tony Gonzalez knows that aisle well. As a South Florida Cuban, he grew up with a rainbow of tropical fruits and their myriad incarnations: guava paste, mamey juice and guanabana nectar, to name a few. When he moved to Atlanta to work for Publix, he could only find a lonely jar of mango marmalade on the ethnic food shelf.

"I would call friends in Miami and have them send me some," he said.

Now, Gonzalez is the manager of the Publix Sabor in Hialeah. He proudly shows off the guava section of the store; there are easily 15 different types of guava paste on two shelves.

Moving the food out of the ethnic aisle and throughout the store is the heart of the Sabor concept. It resonated with Arrello, the Colombian-born shopper who drove 15 miles from her home in Miami Beach just to shop at Sabor.

Arrello had a veritable United Nations of merchandise in her cart: frozen curuba fruit, yucca, figs, black beans and a few bottles of Mistolin, a popular all-purpose surface cleaner.

Mr. Clean or Fantastik just don't cut it, she said.

"Mistolin, the smell lasts longer," she said in Spanish. "I like it better than the others."

Times researcher Cathy Wos contributed to this report. Tamara Lush can be reached at lush@sptimes.com or 727 893-8612.

[Last modified May 21, 2005, 01:03:17]