On Indigenous American Foods

No matter where you live, you've been eating indigenous American foods your whole life.

I've traveled quite a bit—for work and pleasure—and had some memorable meals along the way.

There was the borscht, pierogies, and sausage at Polish restaurant Mazurka (R.I.P.) on Rue Prince-Arthur in Montreal, Canada. There's all the poutines I sampled across Quebec and Nouveau Brunswick—my maternal homelands.

There’s all the fresh breads, doner kebabs, schnitzels of numerous varieties, baked French onion soups, followed by hot raspberries on ice cream, and the best damn coffee ever that I ate and drank while TDY in Germany.

While working for the Defense Department in Japan, I got addicted to yakisoba, conveyor belt sushi, seafood curry, green tea ice cream, build your own ramen, pastries, and street food.

But my favorite meals revolve around family.

My Kanien'kehá:ka of the Haudenosaunee and Metís Akenistén:’a (Mother in Kanien'kehá, but we called her Mum) Claudette Castonguay Cowett hated cooking. She turned the chore fully over to me—who loves to cook and bake—by age 9. My Mum’s one crowning glory dish was her meatloaf. I've never managed to replicate it.

Mum was adopted at age 4 by her Metís maternal Tante (Auntie) Amelia—yes, that's where my first name came from—and her French Acadien husband Linwood Cowett after her Mère (Mother) Agnes Castonguay died. Tante Amelia and Oncle Linwood had only sons and wanted a little girl for Amelia to nurture and pass on her skills to. But Mum preferred time in the cow barn and potato fields with her six older brothers and Daddy over cooking and baking in the kitchen, playing piano or accordion, or quilting and tatting in the parlor with her adopted Mama. So Mum never learned much about cooking.

My paternal Tuŋkaŋšila (Grandpa) Art Freitag always fed us shredded pork tacos, beer boiled shrimp with homemade cocktail sauce, and aged grilled steaks when we'd venture out to South Dakota to see him and Uŋčí (Gramma) Sally.

Tuŋkaŋšila Art was a construction worker, the son of German immigrants, and Uŋčí Sally’s 2nd husband. Uŋčí Sally was Oglala Lakȟóta of the Očhéthi Sakowin and an “Indian Boarding School” survivor—as were her parents, her ex-husband Ralph Christnot and their four children. She never got the chance to learn to cook at her Iná (Mother) or Uŋčí's hip.

My adopted Grandpa Bill Simpson—who was Chief of the fire department in coastal Bath, Maine for years—and his wife, Grandma Mavis, fed us fresh seafood: platters of boiled, shelled lobster meat with melted butter and pan seared scallops. My middle name honors Grandma Mavis who had no children of her own.

But it was my maternal Metís Mémère Amelia who taught me to cook.

Her meals—for her family—were standard farmer's wife meat and potatoes, but her fèves au lard, pie crusts, meringue pies, freshly picked berry pies, mincemeat or raisin pies, foraged berry jams and jellies, pickles, chow-chow, tourtière, fiddleheads (fresh, home canned or frozen), and ployes—French Canadian buckwheat pancakes—were incomparable.

She taught me home canning as well as how to make a perfect pie crust.

My own specialties include everything my elders taught me as well as what I taught myself, including my Lakȟóta style (yeast, not baking soda) fry bread served with bison and wild mushroom chili or with three-sisters (corn, beans, and squash) stew, or with maple or honey poached foraged berries.

There's also my lasagna, manoomin (wild rice) cranberry bison casserole, pumpkin pie, pecan pie, cakes, cookies, breads, and baked stuffed sugar pumpkin—which I've included the recipe for below.

The meals my family wanted me to make every week were my tacos, spaghetti, tomato beef pasta, and broiled pork chops served with pan fried sliced potatoes with onions and applesauce—homemade during apple season. On weekends I made them pancakes or French toast.

And I was doing the holiday meals since I was 9 years-old.

Turkey or ham and all the side dishes: stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet potatoes with either marshmallows or a candied coconut and nut topping, corn or peas or carrots, fruit salad, dinner rolls, and a pie or three for dessert.

And people always ask if I make “Indian” or “Native American” food.

Actually, everyone is making indigenous American foods, all over the world, every day.

They just don't know it.

Indigenous American Foods

The first sustained major interaction between the Eastern and Western hemispheres began at the end of the 15th century. Prior to that, there are stories and evidence of exploration from across the Eastern hemisphere—including Africa, Asia, and Pacifica—to the Western Hemisphere.

Tales of these visitors were part of oral histories across the Americas. Once discounted as fables, modern anthropology has long accepted that the Americas had many visitors before 1492, but none set up permanent settlements or sustained contact.

And those earlier explorers either didn't take the foods of the Western hemisphere home with them or were unable to cultivate what they did bring home. The foods of the Americas weren't exported on a large scale until the 16th century.

But in just 500 years, indigenous American foods reshaped cuisines around the globe.

Potatoes, cassava, Jerusalem artichokes, sunflowers, amaranth, tomatillos, tomatoes, some types of beans (lima, pinto, black, kidney, navy), some peppercorns, peppers, avocados, corn, peanuts, some varieties of both yams and sweet potatoes, and squash are indigenous American foods.

All corn, all potatoes, all tomatoes, all squash, quinoa, manoomin (wild rice), peanuts, all peppers or chilis—including sweet peppers like bell peppers—allspice, sumac, vanilla, and chocolate all originated in the Americas.

These foods are not indigenous to any other continent.

Most of the respected or popular cuisines of the world would be vastly different without these ingredients that mesoamerican cultures cultivated for centuries.

What are European cusines without potatoes or tomatoes? What are Asian cuisines without chili peppers or peanuts? So many of the beloved French, German, Italian, Indian, Thai, and Chinese dishes feature these ingredients. What would desserts be like without chocolate or vanilla?

And those are just a few examples out of many.

Sweet potatoes originated in ancient India, but the plant emigrated to the Americas long before any European contact.

Varieties of sweet potatoes eaten today trace their roots to cultivars developed in the Americas—including those now grown and eaten in India—leading early tracing to declare the plant of South American origin. But advanced DNA testing found an ancient Indian varietal was the real source.

Some yam varieties originated in Africa and Asia while some are indigenous to the Caribbean, although future DNA tracing may find Africa is the sole origin point.

But if you ask people about the Western hemisphere’s contributions to the world, people almost always list only corn and canoes.

I've already written about Indigenous people's contributions to democracy being buried and ignored in favor of unrelated European roots.

Indigenous contributions to global menus are also ignored, unknown, or forgotten.

In the culinary world, there's no denying a Eurocentric hierarchy of cuisines, with French and Italian sitting at the top in the minds of professional chefs.

The global pinnacles of fine dining are almost exclusively restaurants that focus on French and Italian cooking.

East and central Asian dishes are viewed as exotic delicacies, but not on par with “real” haute cuisine. Unless a classicly trained White chef is reinterpretting them for their own menu, cookbook, or TV show.

You can find restaurants everywhere around the world that feature Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Indian, Vietnamese, and Thai food.

Anglified, colonized versions of Mexican cooking are also reaching a similar status, with tacos making their way to new markets. Not fine dining, but accepted and enjoyed.

African, Middle Eastern, and Caribbean fare has reached novelty status. Like a neat trick you might do at a party, but not anything done regularly. Restaurants featuring their traditional fare aren’t global, but they're making inroads.

In the United States and Canada, there are, of course, many restaurants featuring the recipes and foods eaten by the people indigenous to these lands. Right?

Wrong.

I once shared the traditional recipe included above featuring pumpkin, manoomin, bison meat, wild mushrooms, and cranberries. Someone I respected—who considers themselves an adventurous foodie who loves to post about trying global cuisines—commented the equivalent of “Eww! Gross!” where everyone could see.

That's a pretty typical reaction.

The elitist, dismissive attitude is disappointing, but unsurprising. Food vendors at the county fair and global street food gets more respect in the USA and Canada than authentic Indigenous American cuisine.

Despite the fact the people discounting it have never tried it. Despite using our ingredients daily in the food they do love.

They still act like we’re going to serve them roadkill.

There are more than 570 federally recognized Indigenous American tribes across the United States. Each has their own distinct food traditions developed before, during, and after colonization.

But I only personally know of four sit down restaurants that feature Indigenous American chefs or menus created by Indigenous American sources serving either Indigenous fusion or contemporary Indigenous cuisine.

It feels absurd that I can easily find multiple restaurants featuring the cuisine of cultures from the other side of the Earth in my area, but I must travel almost 500 miles to find anything related to my homelands.

This land.

Despite the disregard for our traditional foods, the four restaurants I'm familiar with are multi-award winners.

Owamni in Minneapolis, Minnesota created by Julia Child Award and multiple James Beard Award winning chef Sean Sherman (Oglala Lakȟóta of the Očhéthi Šakówiŋ) who is known by the play on words title of “Sioux Chef”—get it? Sous chef—on social media.

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Sly Fox Den Too in Charleston, Rhode Island created by James Beard Award-winning Chef Sherry Pocknett (Mashpee Wampanoag). I've written about Chef Pocknett before.

Wahpepah’s Kitchen in Oakland, California created by James Beard Award finalist Crystal Wahpepah (Kickapoo).

Mitsitam Native Foods Cafe in Washington D.C. at the Smithsonian's National Museum of the American Indian features a rotating seasonal menu using mostly ingredients sourced from Indigenous owned businesses which earned it multiple Rammy Awards.

In October 2024, AFAR magazine found nine more Indigenous American restaurants and cafes (available through the link), with one each located in Wisconsin, Oregon, Utah, California, New Mexico, Colorado, Washington, Oklahoma, and Arizona.

If you get a chance, I recommend you check one out—especially if you consider the United States your home.

You'll be glad you did.

Philámayaye, Niawen'kó:wa, Merci, Thank you for reading and supporting my writing and Indigenous American history and culture. 💛🤍🖤❤️