Douglas J. Guth
Orchestrated by regional organizations and led by residents, this grassroots initiative tackles climate change where it has a disproportionate impact: amid lower income citizens.
"If you don't try anything, you never know what will happen."
Such is the mindset of Lyz Otero, owner of Half Moon Bakery, a soon-to-be-opened seller of traditional Latin pastries and empanadas. Otero took the leap with a little help from the Economic and Community Development Institute (ECDI), an organization that in August announced more than $530,000 in loans to 21 Cleveland-area businesses.
Nineteen of those loans were to new minority- or women-owned ventures, with Puerto Rico native Otero receiving $50,000 for equipment and improvements to her 1,200 square-foot space at 3800 Pearl Rd. Otero and husband Gerson Velasquez are using the funding to pay contractors and architects, as well as buy stove hoods and other gear. ECDI also provided the couple with financial management and computer classes.
Otero is aiming for an early November launch for a bakery offering a dozen types of empanadas. The new entrepreneur looks forward to stuffing the half-moon shaped pastry turnovers with endless combinations of meat, vegetables and fruit.
"It will almost be like a pizzeria, but with empanadas," says Otero. "Everything you put on a pizza can go on an empanada."
Vegan and gluten-free empanadas will be on the menu, joining Latin cuisine like rice and tamales. Fresh bread, cupcakes and other delectable confections round out the selection. Otero will create the bakery's pastry products, with her husband serving as chef. During the next month, she expects to hire on two cashiers and an additional cook.
While the smaller space will focus on take-out orders, patrons can eat inside on stools along the window. Outdoor seating, meanwhile, is a possibility for warm-weather months.
Opening the business has been both exciting and nerve-wracking. Though no stranger to the restaurant industry - past employers include Zack Bruell and Michael Symon - there's nothing for Otero like working for herself. Friend Wendy Thompson, owner of A Cookie and a Cupcake, encouraged her to start a bakery with a unique Latin flair.
"We're focusing on gourmet empanadas, which nobody else around here is doing," says Otero. "You never see a place like this where there's so many different kinds of empanadas."
Ultimately, Otero wants to leave a delicious, profitable legacy for her three children, ages 4, 6 and 7.
"I've always dreamed to do this," she says. "I had to step up and follow my dreams, because nobody was going to do it for me."
Such is the mindset of Lyz Otero, owner of Half Moon Bakery, a soon-to-be-opened seller of traditional Latin pastries and empanadas. Otero took the leap with a little help from the Economic and Community Development Institute (ECDI), an organization that in August announced more than $530,000 in loans to 21 Cleveland-area businesses.
Nineteen of those loans were to new minority- or women-owned ventures, with Puerto Rico native Otero receiving $50,000 for equipment and improvements to her 1,200 square-foot space at 3800 Pearl Rd. Otero and husband Gerson Velasquez are using the funding to pay contractors and architects, as well as buy stove hoods and other gear. ECDI also provided the couple with financial management and computer classes.
Otero is aiming for an early November launch for a bakery offering a dozen types of empanadas. The new entrepreneur looks forward to stuffing the half-moon shaped pastry turnovers with endless combinations of meat, vegetables and fruit.
"It will almost be like a pizzeria, but with empanadas," says Otero. "Everything you put on a pizza can go on an empanada."
Vegan and gluten-free empanadas will be on the menu, joining Latin cuisine like rice and tamales. Fresh bread, cupcakes and other delectable confections round out the selection. Otero will create the bakery's pastry products, with her husband serving as chef. During the next month, she expects to hire on two cashiers and an additional cook.
While the smaller space will focus on take-out orders, patrons can eat inside on stools along the window. Outdoor seating, meanwhile, is a possibility for warm-weather months.
Opening the business has been both exciting and nerve-wracking. Though no stranger to the restaurant industry - past employers include Zack Bruell and Michael Symon - there's nothing for Otero like working for herself. Friend Wendy Thompson, owner of A Cookie and a Cupcake, encouraged her to start a bakery with a unique Latin flair.
"We're focusing on gourmet empanadas, which nobody else around here is doing," says Otero. "You never see a place like this where there's so many different kinds of empanadas."
Ultimately, Otero wants to leave a delicious, profitable legacy for her three children, ages 4, 6 and 7.
"I've always dreamed to do this," she says. "I had to step up and follow my dreams, because nobody was going to do it for me."
Sanfilippo syndrome is a genetic disorder that effects young children, resulting in mental disabilities, blindness, nerve damage and seizures. Those afflicted may live into their teens, while others with severe forms of the disease die at an earlier age. There is no specific treatment for Sanfilippo syndrome, but a Cleveland-area startup owner literally climbed a mountain to help find one.
Tim Miller, CEO of Abeona Therapeutics, joined a team of climbers representing the Team Sanfilippo Foundation to scale Mount Rainer in Washington. The 14,411-foot ascension represented the latest in a series of fundraisers designed to fight the deadly disease through research. Thus far, the effort has raised nearly $22,000.
Abeona, a company developing gene- and plasma-based therapies for rare genetic disorders, recently entered its first trial on replacing a Sanfilippo sufferer's malfunctioning DNA with a correct copy. The therapy produces an enzyme needed to dispose of sugar molecules that are otherwise stored in cells. This storage causes progressive damage in the patient.
"We're the only ones in the world using this particular approach," says Miller. "Our next step is to enroll more patients."
Miller battled freezing temperatures, high altitudes and steep rock faces during the 36-hour climb to Ranier's crest. The early-September jaunt burned 16,000 calories and left him physically and emotionally exhausted. Disappointment Cleaver, a 70- to 80-degree rock incline located at 12,500 feet, was perhaps Miller's most harrowing challenge.
"You're scaling 1,000 feet of rock in the middle of the night with a short rope," he says. "You just have to keep moving."
Miller and his teammates - among them a father of two boys diagnosed with lethal Sanfilippo syndrome type A - reached the summit at sunrise, a sight that washed away all previous trials.
"There was this great sense of joy when we reached the top," says Miller. "We got to see the entire world unmapped before us."
Tackling Mount Rainier was difficult, but nothing compared to what those dealing with Sanfilippo syndrome must endure, adds the medical entrepreneur.
"I had to live through mental, physical and emotional hardships (on Mount Rainier)," Miller says. "But parents whose children have (Sanfilippo syndrome) must live with the disease for years. That's courage."
Tim Miller, CEO of Abeona Therapeutics, joined a team of climbers representing the Team Sanfilippo Foundation to scale Mount Rainer in Washington. The 14,411-foot ascension represented the latest in a series of fundraisers designed to fight the deadly disease through research. Thus far, the effort has raised nearly $22,000.
Abeona, a company developing gene- and plasma-based therapies for rare genetic disorders, recently entered its first trial on replacing a Sanfilippo sufferer's malfunctioning DNA with a correct copy. The therapy produces an enzyme needed to dispose of sugar molecules that are otherwise stored in cells. This storage causes progressive damage in the patient.
"We're the only ones in the world using this particular approach," says Miller. "Our next step is to enroll more patients."
Miller battled freezing temperatures, high altitudes and steep rock faces during the 36-hour climb to Ranier's crest. The early-September jaunt burned 16,000 calories and left him physically and emotionally exhausted. Disappointment Cleaver, a 70- to 80-degree rock incline located at 12,500 feet, was perhaps Miller's most harrowing challenge.
"You're scaling 1,000 feet of rock in the middle of the night with a short rope," he says. "You just have to keep moving."
Miller and his teammates - among them a father of two boys diagnosed with lethal Sanfilippo syndrome type A - reached the summit at sunrise, a sight that washed away all previous trials.
"There was this great sense of joy when we reached the top," says Miller. "We got to see the entire world unmapped before us."
Tackling Mount Rainier was difficult, but nothing compared to what those dealing with Sanfilippo syndrome must endure, adds the medical entrepreneur.
"I had to live through mental, physical and emotional hardships (on Mount Rainier)," Miller says. "But parents whose children have (Sanfilippo syndrome) must live with the disease for years. That's courage."
