Who we are

CaminoVerde is a women-owned company that was born under less-than-ideal circumstances. Thanks to the resilience of its founders, CaminoVerde has strived to become a true epitome of hardworking women who are in a continuous quest to achieve the highest form of success—not only in the culinary world but also in the cannabis industry.

Our founder, Ana Yon, is from a small town in New Jersey. Born into a Hispanic Guatemalan family, proud of both her Central American and Chinese heritage. Introduced to the culinary world early through her grandmother who served as a mentor equipping her with a holistic culinary skillset. From measuring ingredient additions to cultivating recipes through visual means. She quickly became array to comprehend food in a distinct path most people can't. From learning to measure the perfect amount for a dish by simply observing, to knowing what is missing. With a background in catering, she combines both worlds to create a unique masterpiece called CaminoVerde.

Co-Founder & CFO, Cynthia Herrera, a proud Guatemalan born and raised in New Jersey, is the driving force behind CaminoVerde’s identity and growth. With an unmatched eye for detail and a passion for perfection, Cynthia has played a key role in shaping every aspect of the brand. She leads all marketing efforts, manages client inquiries, and carries the full financial responsibility of the business. Her ambition, creativity, and work ethic have been essential to the success of CaminoVerde. Currently pursuing a degree in business, Cynthia is committed to expanding her knowledge and skills to continue growing and elevating the CaminoVerde experience.

Together, they have created a unique concept that is eager to be introduced, not only within the cannabis community but as a future household name. Many misconceptions still surround the world of cannabis edibles, but this is the kind of energy we thrive on,changing the perspective of what edibles can be. From our old-fashioned technique of making everything from scratch to using only the most organic, seasonal ingredients, we’re crafting a world like no other. A world ready to be explored,and at CaminoVerde, your first-class ticket is waiting.

Are you ready?

Steve Camino

In Loving Memory of Steve Camino

There are people in this world who live so loudly in love, in light, and in loyalty that when they leave, everything feels quieter. Duller. Dimmer. Steve Camino was that kind of person. He was more than a brother—he was my protector, my peace, my joy. His heart was massive. Bigger than pain, bigger than hardship, bigger than anything life ever threw his way. And life threw him a lot. He didn’t grow up like most kids. He was forced to become an adult before he ever had a chance to be a child. Our home life was unstable, unsafe and Steve stepped up, even when he was still just a kid himself. No matter what he was going through, he still found space to show up for others—without hesitation, without resentment. He opened his arms, his home, his heart to anyone who needed it. Not for praise. Just because that’s who he was. Steve gave people safety. He made you feel like everything would be okay just by being in the room. For me and my sister Daisey, he was our armor, our superpower, our security blanket, our shield from the world. He was our mom. He was our dad. He was everything. While most kids were being taken care of, Steve was taking care of us—with no guide, no support, and no one to look out for him. He carried it all. And still, he gave love. When he was here, we weren’t just loved—we were protected. We were free. We were whole. Life made sense with him in it.

He never let what he went through harden his heart. He had every reason to be angry at the world—but instead, he gave. He protected. He smiled. He loved. He made sure we had the childhood he never got to have.

There’s this memory I replay in my head over and over: summer camp, North Plainfield High School. There was a relay race, and Steve was the last one to get the baton. Everyone was screaming. The moment he took off, he flew. He passed every single runner and crossed the finish line first. And we lost our minds. My whole body filled with pride, screaming “That’s my brother!” from the bleachers. I can still see his face in that moment. That joy. That confidence. That moment of being seen and celebrated. I hold it close like a prayer.

Always laughing. His laugh…, it was everything. Loud and warm and contagious. It pulled you out of sadness like sunlight through a storm. He found joy in the simplest things—eating wings and pizza from Sam Remos, something we’d been doing since we were little kids; Ecuadorian food that tasted like home; movie nights, slow walks, just being with us. He didn’t need anything fancy—just love. Just family. Just us. Even though we came from a broken family, he made it feel whole. He made it enough. And school—he saw me when no one else did. Every report card, every test, every grade—I showed him first. Every time, his face lit up like I’d won a trophy. And I’d carried that look with me. I wish I could show him my final college grades now. I made the Dean’s List. I graduated. Because of him. Because I carried his voice in the back of my mind every time I wanted to give up. He motivated me more than he’ll ever know. I know he would have hugged me so tight and said, “I told you, Ash.” He always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. He sacrificed so much for us and so freely. My success belongs to him.

If he could read this now, I’d tell him I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry that no one protected you the way you protected all of us. You carried so much, and still smiled. Still gave. Still loved. I wish we could’ve carried some of it for you. I wish I had one more day. One more laugh. One more “I love you.”

I still pretend you’re here. Some days, it’s the only way I survive. I talk to you in my head. I ask you what to do. I try to be strong, to live right and to make you proud. Life without you feels like a book missing its ending. But we’re going to keep writing, for you. For your name. For your legacy.

You were the best thing life ever gave us. And we’ll spend the rest of our lives trying to live in a way that honors the love you gave so freely.

We love you more than words can hold.

Written by the Camino Sisters.