Today we’d like to introduce you to Ale Pacheco.
Hi Ale, we’re thrilled to have a chance to learn your story today. So, before we get into specifics, maybe you can briefly walk us through how you got to where you are today?
For many years I lived among mountains, in a small village of German tradition, where I grew up surrounded by a culture deeply connected to the land, family, and respect for food. There, cold cuts were made artisanally, from fresh, authentic meats, coming from animals raised on the local pastures. Milk also arrived fresh to our homes, and with it, different varieties of cheese were prepared in the traditional way. As the years went by, that small village kept growing, and in some way, I grew alongside it. Life led me to become a mother to three wonderful children and to discover that one of my greatest joys was found right around the table. I still remember, with special fondness, the pleasure, the gratitude, and the deep satisfaction I felt watching my family and friends gathered together, enjoying every dish I prepared with dedication and love. To me, cooking was never simply about preparing food: it was a way of expressing affection, of honoring the people I loved, and of creating moments capable of lasting in memory.
Later on, I had the opportunity to build a small hotel, a project that allowed me to take that calling for service a little further. I personally took care of my guests and especially loved preparing their breakfast and bringing it to their rooms. I took care of every detail: arranging the food artistically on the trays, making sure every presentation was beautiful, delicate, and special. Watching my guests’ reaction to those small gestures filled me with immense emotion. That’s when I understood that what had begun many years earlier, around the family table, was truly an essential part of who I am: the pleasure of serving, of creating with my own hands, and of expressing hospitality, dedication, and care through food.
Over time, and due to unexpected circumstances in life, in 2017 my story took a completely different direction. I went from being a happy, successful woman, a lover of nature, surrounded by the love of my family and dear friends, to finding myself alone, with no money and no home, in a state that was entirely unknown to me until then. And yet, even in the midst of that uncertainty, I was never truly abandoned. Fate brought me to Tampa, a beautiful city I feel deep affection and gratitude for today, because it was here that I found welcome and the chance to begin again.
I was alone, yes, but never abandoned. In my most vulnerable moments, there was always a generous hand reaching out: people who helped me cross a street, shared a plate of food with me, took me to the hospital when I needed it, or gave me what I needed to start rebuilding a home – pots, pans, knives, and among all those things, a beautiful wooden board that would come to hold a very special meaning in my life.
That board looked remarkably similar to one I had owned years before. It seemed like a simple object, but it awakened memories that had been sleeping inside me. Seeing it, and beginning to use it, reconnected me with what had made me feel whole for so many years: my passion for creating, serving, and expressing affection through food. This is precisely why this feature is dedicated to all those people who appeared, almost providentially, during the hardest moments of my life – who reached out a hand when I needed it most and who, over time, stopped being strangers or friends and became true family.
On that wooden board, I began, almost without meaning to, to rebuild a part of my story. I started serving my own creations again and presenting them artistically, just as I had done years before. Day by day, between flavors, colors, and small details, I found my way back to myself and recovered a passion that life’s circumstances had temporarily left behind. At first, I only did it for friends who came over, or to celebrate a birthday. I didn’t need grand occasions or extraordinary ingredients: I worked with whatever I had on hand and tried to turn every tray into something beautiful and special. It was the very people who began enjoying those creations who first told me there was something more than a hobby there, and that I should consider turning that skill into a business.
My daughter, who has been a fundamental support throughout this entire process, found a nonprofit organization that ended up becoming a defining piece of that new beginning. There, I had the opportunity to train and gain the administrative knowledge needed to turn a passion into a business venture. I studied, I prepared myself, and when I was finally ready to take the next step, I received the guidance needed to formally register my company. With the support of my family and friends, the first opportunities began to arrive. I made small charcuterie boards and trays that I initially sold to friends and coworkers. Little by little, recommendations spread from one person to another, and the business began to grow in the most genuine way possible: through people who knew my work, trusted it, and recommended it.
That’s how orders started coming in for birthdays, Mother’s Day, family celebrations, Christmas gifts, and other special occasions. Every new tray meant so much more than a sale: it represented another step in rebuilding my life and confirmation that this passion could also become my livelihood. At the same time, I kept preparing myself and attending networking events around the city, sharing my work and building connections within the community. With perseverance, doors began to open that, not long before, would have seemed unimaginable. I was invited onto television programs, interviewed by local media, and later contacted by Wisconsin Cheese to take part in a television advertising campaign.
It all happened step by step. And it’s precisely by walking that path that I came to understand that starting over truly is possible. It doesn’t mean it’s easy, or that the difficulties disappear; it means discovering that, even after losing practically everything, it’s still possible to rebuild. Today I can sum up that journey in a phrase that holds deeply personal meaning for me: I stopped surviving to start living again. I went back to doing what truly makes me passionate. Designing a grazing table awakens in me a sense of freedom, creativity, and excitement similar to what a child feels discovering the joy of finger-painting. In that moment, rigid rules disappear: colors, shapes, textures, and flavors begin to find their place, as the table slowly transforms into a one-of-a-kind composition.
That’s why I’ve never created two presentations exactly alike. Each one responds to a different occasion, a different inspiration, a different story. Trying to reproduce them identically would be like asking an artist to paint the exact same picture twice: it might come close, but it would never carry the same essence. Because my work isn’t simply about placing food on a table – to me, it’s culinary art. Every board is a one-of-a-kind creation; every celebration has a story to tell, and every composition carries a piece of both the person who made it and the person who receives it. Perhaps that’s why, after everything I’ve lived through and everything I’ve walked through, every time I begin a new creation, I feel that very same emotion from the beginning – the same one that was born in front of a simple wooden board, and that ended up reminding me of something I thought I had lost: who I was, what I loved to do, and that it’s always possible to begin again.
I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
No, it hasn’t been an easy road. When I arrived in Tampa, without even realizing I was already in survival mode, I found myself working three jobs a week, fighting for my health while also trying to support my family. In the middle of that exhausting pace, I ended up forgetting, almost without noticing it, what my own passion even was. It was precisely during that period that I started getting sick: ambulances, hospitalizations, blood transfusions, surgeries became, for a time, part of my routine. All of it kept pulling me further from my past life, which began to feel more and more like a distant dream, almost as if it belonged to someone else.
When my friends started telling me I should sell what I made, I have to admit that, at the time, the idea felt completely out of reach. I kept thinking about how much time I would realistically have to try it while already working three jobs, and about the capital I would need when I had practically nothing. And yet, alongside that uncertainty, I also felt a genuine excitement at the possibility of living with purpose again. They were truly difficult times, but, as I would come to learn, never impossible ones.
Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know?
Ale’s Charcuterie Boards is a luxury catering company based in the Tampa Bay area, specializing in artistic Grazing Tables, our signature Golden Melt Experience – Tampa Bay’s first live Swiss Raclette service – hands-on charcuterie classes, our Charcuterie Cart for more intimate gatherings, gourmet catering for private jets, and a very special service we call our long-distance surprise delivery: we become accomplices for anyone wanting to send an unforgettable gift to a loved one from afar. We knock on that door on their behalf and bring a beautiful charcuterie board, so they can feel that embrace even when they can’t be there in person.
But behind that sentence is a human team that stands out for the love and dedication we pour into every presentation. What sets us apart is how we combine artistic precision with genuine warmth. Every presentation we create is one of a kind – we never make two exactly the same, because to me, this is culinary art, not an assembly line. We specialize in creating what we call the “WOW effect” – that moment when both the host and the guests see the table for the first time and are left speechless, followed by flavor that proves the beauty never came at the expense of taste. That moment erases all the exhaustion and creates a boundless joy and gratitude that makes me want to do it again, a thousand times over.
What I’m most proud of is our attention to detail and our commitment to giving the host zero stress – from setup to breakdown, our team handles everything, so they can simply enjoy their own event. We’ve had the honor of catering high-profile events: banks, ribbon cuttings, graduations, weddings, funerals, and executive events, throughout the region.
But if you ask me what our greatest satisfaction is, that answer speaks to the very heart of our mission: it’s fulfilled in the moment the event owner compliments our event planner on the catering. That moment, that genuine recognition, is the greatest pride our team feels.
I want our readers to know that no matter the size of the event – from an intimate table for twenty to a production for five hundred guests – every presentation receives the same level of care and passion I put into the very first board I ever made for my family.
We’d love to hear about how you think about risk taking?
Risk has never been foreign to me. As a child, riding all-terrain motorcycles was simply a natural part of my life; later I discovered the thrill of whitewater rafting and the absolute freedom of skydiving. Maybe that’s why I’ve always believed that a life without risk is, simply put, an incomplete life. And I’m deeply convinced of something: it is far more painful to spend your entire life wondering “what if I had tried?” than it is to take the leap and, eventually, get it wrong.
That’s why, when life put me in front of the decision to start over – with no certainties, no perfect plan, no guarantees it would work – I chose to jump anyway. Leaving everything behind to bet on something that seemed unreachable at the time wasn’t an easy decision, but it was, without a doubt, one of the biggest risks I’ve ever taken in my entire life. Accepting a loan offered to me by ELI, the organization where I trained, when I still had no certainty it would work, was another leap of faith. And continuing to innovate, creating experiences no one else offered in Tampa Bay, has also been, in its own way, a constant risk.
Whenever someone asks me if I was afraid, I think of that same feeling you get right before jumping out of a plane: if you don’t dare to jump, you’ll never know what it feels like to fly. I would rather try and get it wrong a thousand times over than live forever with the doubt.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.alescharcuterieboards.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alescharcuterieboards
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/share/14pnwN4kwaB/
