The Aiyaiyesh Girl and Three Sisters Soup

Long and long ago there was a young girl that people would call Aiyaiyesh, which roughly would translate into English as “stupid.”  Even today, if you don’t listen to your elders,  people will say, “Ah, you’re so aiyaiyesh.”

 Other kids her age would help their elders pick berries. 

 

 

 

 

 

But not the girl who was aiyaiyesh…she would just sit underneath the cedar tree, watching the world go by.

Other kids her age would help their elders tan deer hides. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But not the girl who was aiyaiyesh…she would just sit underneath the cedar tree, watching the world go by.

 

 

 

 

 

Other kids her age would help their elders  dig roots.  But not the girl who was aiyaiyesh…she would just sit underneath the cedar tree, watching the world go by…

 

Other kids her age would gather cedar bark on the hottest days of the year to help their elders.  But not the girl who was aiyaiyesh…she would just sit underneath the cedar tree, watching the world go by.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finally, one day, the cedar tree couldn’t take it anymore and said, “Ah, you are so aiyaiyesh.  All you ever do is sit underneath me.  Now you watch.  I’m going to show you how to do something.”

 

 

 

And so it was the cedar tree showed her how to take the strong roots of the cedar and coil them around, sewing them together into a circle.  Now circles are very sacred to most Native people.  We’re taught that the world is a circle…when the wind moves in its strongest power, it moves in a circle.   In our ceremonies, when we pray, we turn in a circle because we are taught when you turn in a circle, one of your sins falls off.

As she sewed the circles together, she created the very first hard root cedar basket.  This is a very important thing in the Pacific Northwest.  Not only is it traditionally used to hold berries, and other foods, but the baskets were so well made, they would hold water.  In fact one proof of moving into adulthood was to make four baskets which would then as a test, be dipped into water.  If they would hold the water, then the basket maker was recognized as an adult.  The baskets would then be given away to train the young person to always be generous.  This type of basket was also used for cooking. 

After being filled with water, small rocks that had been heated in a fire would be dropped into the water of the basket.  The heat of the rocks would make the water boil, and you could then cook soups and stews. 

But you had to be very careful and keep stirring the hot rocks around or they would stay at in one place and burn a hole through the bottom of your basket and you’d feel really aiyaiyesh.

 

When she had finished, the cedar tree examined her basket and told her she had done a good job, but she had woven no patterns onto her basket, and a basket was not finished until it had designs.

 “But I don’t know any designs,” she cried.

“Ah, you’re so aiyaiyesh,” said the cedar tree.  “Start walking—keep your eyes and your ears and your heart open, and you will find all sorts of patterns.”

Just so, the girl began to walk and all the way she was crying.  In fact, she was crying so hard, she wasn’t watching where she was going, and almost stepped on Waxpush, the rattlesnake.“What’s the matter with you, almost stepping on innocent people!” the rattlesnake hissed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she answered, “but the cedar tree told me if I just kept walking, I’d find all sorts of designs for my basket, but I haven’t found a single one.”

“Ah, you’re so aiyaiyesh,” cried the rattlesnake. “Open up your eyes and see—just look at me!”

And sure enough, when she looked—really looked at the rattlesnake, she saw she had  a beautiful pattern of diamonds down her shiny back.  “Oh, how beautiful you are!  What a wonderful pattern!”

“Take it,” said the rattlesnake, “use it for your basket.”  And so it was she wove the diamond back patterns into her basket.

When she was done, she was very proud of herself, but eventually she thought, “Well, I can’t just keep using the same pattern over and over again,” and she began to cry once more.

“Why are you crying, little girl?” called someone with a voice like thunder.  She looked up from her tears and saw Patu, the Mountain,  was talking to her.

“Oh, I’m crying because the cedar tree told me if I just kept walking, I would find all sorts of patterns for my baskets, but all I’ve found is just one!”

“Ah, you’re so aiyaiyesh,” called the Mountain.  “You look at me—what do you see?”  And sure enough, when she looked—really looked at the Mountain she saw that he was really a triangle. 

“Oh, what a beautiful pattern you are,” she said.

“Take it—and use it for your basket.”

And so it was she wove the pattern of the Mountain into her basket.

In this miniature basket, you can see how the yellow represents the path the basket maker took in climbing the mountain to gather the materials for the basket.

 She was very proud of herself, and as she kept walking, keeping her eyes and ears, and heart open, she saw all sorts of designs.

The stars came out at night and formed constellations that she used for designs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Butterflies danced around the flowers and taught her more patterns.

 

 

 

 

 

 

She saw how the leaves of the plants danced with the wind and her heart danced when she realized she had yet another design.

 

She saw the tracks of little birds.  She saw lightning and that gave her another design for her baskets.

 She saw the top knot on the little quail and that gave her a design she could use.

Everywhere she went, in every direction, she found patterns and designs.

And when she learned to weave all these designs into her baskets, she returned home to her people and taught them how to put the patterns into baskets. 

 

 

 

 

When she had done that, she wasn’t aiyaiyesh anymore.

 

 

 

 

A Sahaptin story, retold by CoyoteCooks

 

This is one of my favorite stories, and I have used it in getting across the idea of “Learning to See/Seeing to Learn.”  As a therapist, I find a lot of people are like the aiyaiyesh girl in the beginning of her journey—they keep using the same pattern (of behavior) over and over again.  Part of their psychological growth comes from discovering that there are all sorts of other patterns (of behavior) around them that they can also use.

After I tell the legend, the first thing I will ask an audience is, “When did she stop being so aiyaiyesh?”

Was it when she learned to make a basket?  Was it when she learned how to weave a design into the basket?  Was it when she learned to see that patterns and designs were always all around her?

The legend says very specifically she stopped being aiyaiyesh when she was able to share her knowledge with her community.  The beginning of the story states she is aiyaiyesh, and gives examples of what others her age would be doing during the four seasons (a cycle) of the year, in giving back to their community.  But the girl doesn’t give anything back.  She only sits underneath the cedar tree and watches the world go by.  Her aiyaiyeshness isn’t about ignorance, but about her interactions and responsibility.

The knowledge of how to make the baskets described in the story was in danger of being lost not long ago.  When I used to interview Native elders for our TV program, Native Vision, I would hear them talk about how hard it was to make the baskets.  They involved almost a year of preparation—going out during the hottest days of the year to gather cedar bark when the sap would not be next to the surface where it would render the bark useless for basket-making—going into the higher elevations of the mountain to gather bear grass to weave into the basket—preparing alder bark to use as a reddish dye.

When the Native people would take their beautiful baskets into the White towns to trade, the settlers would dismiss them and offer used clothing for trade.  I remember Hazel Pete, a respected Chehalis woman who came from generations of basket-makers, explaining to me how her mother told her as a child, “You are better than this.  You are better than used and dirty old clothes.”  Many stopped making the baskets, and started using buckets and pots obtained from their non-Native neighbors.  Towards the last part of the 20^th century, there was a revival of basket-making among many Native communities, and basket-making was even being taught in community centers on reservations.

  On a spiritual level, this story is related to the Vision Quest, which involves discovering one’s Power.  In this case, the young woman would be about at the age of puberty, and her Spirit Power would be the Cedar Tree, which is responsible for helping her become all she can be.

 In terms of this article’s recipe, I’m going to start with the assumption you either don’t have a basket that you can use for cooking or if you do, it’s likely to be a family heirloom you probably won’t use for cooking anyway.  In the images I used in illustration I included one that shows baskets from California, that are a little out of the Plateau culture of this legend, but it did indicate some cooking baskets so readers won’t think this is something I made up.  These Californian baskets would have been used to cook ground acorns with the same technique of dropping small stone heated very hot in a fire into the mixture, and then replacing the stones as they cool off.  I’ve had some like this when I was doing a workshop in northern California.

 

 

 

Because the NW traditions focus on soups and stews in the baskets, I decided to do a “Three Sisters Soup.”  I was aware of the Three Sisters (Corn, Bean, Squash) from southwestern culture and was pleased to find out much later as an adult that the Three Sisters are also very much part of other Native cultures, including up in the American North East, the homeland of the Six Nations Confederacy. 

The legends say these are our relatives.  On a practical level, the corn stalk forms a support for the beans to climb, while the beans attach nitrogen to the soil in a way that benefits the corn.  The squash spreads out, helping keep the ground moist, but also discourages other plants (think about what most Americans would call weeds) and the spiny bits of the squash discourage a lot of pests.

 If I’m in a hurry, (and it’s one of those weeks) it’s easy to throw together a can of black beans , a can of hominy, and a few cut up zucchini and yellow squash into a chicken stock (although I’ve been trying to be as productive as possible lately, so I’ve been freezing pork stock which I’ll use instead).  There’s sometimes mention of the Fourth Sibling—the spicy brother Chili, so I’ll toss in enough crushed  or ground red chili pepper until I’m satisfied.

 

 

I personally prefer cutting fresh corn off the cob to use, although sometimes I get a craving for hominy.

Depending on who will be sharing dinner, I might cut the fresh corn into segments for those who enjoy the experience of gnawing the corn off.  

This is actually more representative of the Algonquian folks back east.  First appearing in English about 1778, “succotash” comes from an American Indian word for beans and maize cooked together. “Msiquatash” was the staple dish of the Narragansett tribe, who lived in what is now Rhode Island. A related Narragansett word, “asquutasquash,” gave us “squash…”(Incidentally, the verb “squash,” meaning “to smash flat,” comes from an entirely different source, the Latin word for “break.”) http://www.word-detective.com/back-m.html

I’ll also throw in a few diced tomatoes and garlic, and salt and pepper to taste.  And because it’s been a very busy week, I’ll throw in the meat from the leftover pork that’s been waiting patiently in the fridge.  I’m ready to serve within 30 minutes, which includes tossing some rolls in the oven.

Why Rabbit Has Paws Instead of Fingers

Long time ago, even before the world turned upside down, Rabbit loved to gamble.  Now there was one thing Rabbit loved to do even more than gamble—he loved to cheat. 

 

Like many Human People these days in the Pacific Northwest, Rabbit played Bone Game.  This is also called “Stick Game,” “Hand Game,” or S’lahal. In the Salish language, S’lahal translates as “Bone.”  Our stories say that Bone Game was a gift from the Creator, designed to settle disputes in a peaceful, rather than a violent manner.  The oldest set of the Bone Game found so far is at least 14,000 years old http://www.aaanativearts.com/article1483.html

 

I was also taught that traditional healing is related to the Bone Game.  A medicine person is “betting” his or her power to heal is greater than the power of the disease to kill.  This means a healer is, in essence, betting his or her life against the life of the patient’s.  This is why in many Native communities, a healer has 4 days to make the decision whether or not to treat a patient.  It gives the healer the opportunity to determine if his or her power is an appropriate one for a particular disease.  If not, a healer may refer to someone else.  I guess the most important thing is to realize a gambling activity like the Bone Game also has a strong spiritual aspect to it.

 

Traditionally the playing pieces are made from deer bones.  It was also played with cougar bones, and there used to be an old woman near the Lummi Indian reservation who was said to play with a set made from human shin bones.  Nobody liked to play with her…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The bones are marked—there are two sets.  One bone is “belted” with a stripe carved or colored into it around the middle.  Its mate will have no stripe.  One is considered male and the other female.  The other side tries to guess which hand is hiding the bone with no stripe.  The pieces are small enough to be hidden within the hand.  In more modern times, other materials are used in their construction—for example, Lucite, plastic, or wood.

 

A deer bone like these would be cut in half, and then a set of matched bones would be made from the halves, cutting them down further and then marking one as male and leaving the other unmarked as a female bone.

 

The score is kept by counting sticks. Each side of players has an equal number of sticks, and then one side will start with a “kick” stick or “king” stick.  The king stick is like the king in chess.  Every time a side incorrectly guesses the location of the unmarked bone the guessing/pointing side will give up a stick to the other side.

 

Every time a side correctly guesses which hand is hiding the unmarked bone, the hiding side will turn over that set of bones to the guessing team.  When both sets of bones are won, then the teams change positions in terms of which one will hide and which one will guess/point.

 

The game is played until the king stick is won.

 

It is said there are at least nine different ways that you can cheat playing Bone game.

 

Rabbit knew every single way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just like there are “double-sided coins,” where the coin is the same on both sides, one way Rabbit would cheat was to paint the stripe only halfway around the bone.  When the other side would guess him, he would turn the cheating bone to show the “wrong” side.

 

 

 

Now in those days, Rabbit had fingers, just like you and me.  He also had a long bushy tail like a squirrel, but that’s another legend.

 

When you play Bone game, it’s not unusual for players to do a sort of “hand dance,” moving the hands around in rhythm to the Bone game songs that are being sung. The player will hold a bone piece between index finger and thumb, so everyone can see it.  Hand drums, rattles, and sticks beaten against other sticks keep the rhythm going.  The hand gestures are saying, “look how well I’m playing—you’ll never guess where I’m hiding the bones—are they here?  Are they there?—you’ll never guess me!”

 

Sometimes a player will keep switching the bones around behind a drum until she is ready to hold up her hands.  Sometimes a player will keep switching the bones around behind another player until ready to hold up his hands.  Sometimes a player will keep switching the bones beneath a shawl or a blanket until she’s ready to hold up her hands, both clutching one of the matched bones.

 

One day Rabbit was playing Porcupine.  “You better not be cheating on me, Rabbit.”

 

“Me!? Cheat you!?, You Porcupine!”  And then Rabbit would cheat him again.

 

 

 

 

Porcupine had a very special spirit power—he could call lightning down from the sky.

 

 

 

 

He began to sing his power song, and as he struck his drum harder with his stick, the clouds began to darken the sky.  There was the sound of thunder, and then lightning flashed down so close to Rabbit, it burned all the hair out from his ears.

 

That’s why even today when you see a rabbit, it has no hair inside its ears…

 

But Rabbit kept cheating.

 

Porcupine grew more angry.  He began to sing his power song again, as Rabbit proudly did his hand dance, showing off the bones he had won by cheating.  Lightning flashed down from the sky and blew all the fingers off the hands of Rabbit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That’s why even today when you see a rabbit, it has paws instead of fingers…

 

But STILL Rabbit was cheating.  Now Rabbit had a very special place to hide his bones…not underneath his drum—not behind another player—not beneath a shawl–he hid them up his nose.

 

This time, Porcupine didn’t even sing.  He lifted his hand up towards Rabbit, and lightning shot right out and hit Rabbit in the nose until his bones fell out on the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

That’s why even today when you see a rabbit, it has such a flat, funny, and boneless nose.

 

And that’s why even today—you better not cheat when you play Bone game!

 

A Sahaptin Story retold by CoyoteCooks

 

Rabbit can be a tasty addition to the menu, although for many urban dwellers, it’s unlikely rabbit will be found at the local grocery store.  Fortunately there are specialty stores that will carry rabbit (often frozen) and with the internet, you can buy almost anything.

 

As a small child, I remember my father having cages with rabbits in the “backyard” but it was a long time before I made the connection that the rabbit I had slipped a carrot the day before was on the table the next evening.

 

Of course, the easiest way to get a rabbit is to have a family member who is a hunter, who then cleans and dresses the rabbit for you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In some communities, there are rabbits, but there are also hares, which tend to be larger and longer limbed than a rabbit. A jackrabbit, for example, is really a hare. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In more northern areas, you’ll find the snowshoe rabbit, which is also actually a hare.

 

Rabbits tend to be a little “tough” so if you’re not having to cook one over a fire while camping, a lot of recipes will stew or braise the meat in order to tenderize it.  In my experience teaching multi-ethnic cooking at Seattle Central Community College, I sometimes found non-Natives who get a little freaked out by “wild” meats that they automatically assume will taste “gamey.”  What’s funny to me, is that asking if these folks have ever tasted “wild” meat before—they haven’t, which means they really don’t have a personal point of reference to what a “gamey” flavor would be in the first place.  I suppose they define “gamey” as “not tasting like chicken.”

 

For that reason, rabbit can be prepared by marinating and cooking it in wine, beer, or vinegar, or in a chili stew base, which will tend to overcome the direct taste of the rabbit, if you are concerned with squeamish guests. 

 

Let’s face it—after a lifetime of Bugs Bunny, Peter Cottontail, and the Easter Bunny, rabbit on the menu is a really hard sale if you’re expecting small children around the dinner table.  I’ll admit as a youngster I didn’t notice the “drumstick” I would enjoy didn’t really look anything like a chicken leg but hey—I’m not the sharpest spoon in the drawer, and a lot of other children will figure that out long before I did.  That’s why cooking the rabbit until the meat falls off the bone is an excellent way to avoid identifiable body parts you have to explain to horrified children or adults.

 

Did I mention you used to be able to buy a t-shirt on my mom’s reservation that read: “Vegetarian is the Indian word for “Poor Hunter.”

 

I used to do what I watched my relatives do, which is to dredge the meat in flour mixed with a little salt and pepper—the way we would do most meats—beef, elk, deer, or chicken.  But I was watching one of the American Test Kitchen shows where they did a comparison of pot roasts where the meat was dredged in flour before browning, and where the meat was not, and both methods produced fairly identical results, so since then I’ve saved a step and given up on the flour dredge.  I just brown the meat directly in the skillet or the Dutch oven I’ll be using to do a “one pot” meal.

 I’ll then add enough water to cover the meat, and let it simmer away for 30 or 45 minutes (If I’m cooking in the evening, then I check during commercial breaks…’cause I’m not an “urban Indian”—I am a “urbane Indian” lol)

after spicing the liquid with salt, black pepper, and at least a teaspoon of crushed red pepper.  I’ll also add some garlic and whatever fresh herbs are available on my balcony. 

After the meat has had a “head start,” I’ll add some diced cabbage.   This is also the standard way my Tiwa relatives will do a pork cabbage stew back home at the Pueblo, although they’ll skip the garlic and herbs, but will also sometimes use roasted green chiles as opposed to the crushed red chili powder.  If I’m feeling fancy, I’ll also throw in some diced white onion, because I think onion goes well with the cabbage, garlic, and rabbit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Keep checking between commercials to see when you’re satisfied the rabbit is tender enough, poking it liberally with a sharp knife or a fork. Depending on various factors like how much rabbit you’re using, sunspots, and rogue moons crossing your major sun signs, the cooking time will be roughly an hour and a half to two hours.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Serve a bowl up with a slice of a substantial and good crusty bread and no one will think of accusing you of “bunnicide.”

Abalone Girl and Gold Girl

Long time ago, when the world was still new, Coyote had a son.  Now Coyote’s son was so handsome—so good looking, that whenever he walked by, women (and some men) would feel their hearts beat faster.  In fact, Coyote’s son was so fine, you might even call him a fox.

 

 

 

 

Now in those days there were two sisters. Abalone Girl and Gold Girl

 

.  “Perhaps,” Abalone Girl told her sister, “if we dress up in our very best clothes…”

 

“And paint our faces,” answered Gold Girl, “maybe Coyote’s son will fall in love with us!”  Just so, they put on their best white buckskin dresses.

 

 

They carefully painted each other’s faces, and had just finished when they heard their grandmother’s voice.  “What are you doing?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“We thought if we dressed in our finest and painted our faces, Coyote’s son might fall in love with us.’

 

Their grandmother looked sad, and she told them, “Come here—there is something I must do first.’  She reached down and dug her fingers into the earth, and began to smear her granddaughters with mud and dirt.

 

“Oh, Grandmother, what are you doing!?”

 

“If Coyote’s son is a good person, “ she told them as she rubbed the mud into their hair, “he won’t care about the way you look or how you dress.  But if he is not a good person, then he will point his finger at you and laugh.”

 

The sisters thought this was very strange, but you don’t argue with your grandmother.  They walked to Coyote’s lodge, where his son was busy posing around so people could admire him.  He looked up and saw two young women coming towards him.  They were dressed in beautiful white buckskin dresses and bright paint was on their faces, but he could barely see it through the mud and dirt that covered them.  He thought this was the funniest thing in the world. 

 He began to laugh and pointed his finger at the sisters.  In many Native cultures, it is considered to be a bad thing to point your finger at someone.  A polite person points with his or her lower lip.

 

The sisters turned around, their hearts breaking.  They knew that Coyote’s son was not a very good person, but they were still hurt. 

 

Abalone Girl cried and cried.  She cried so hard her tears washed away all the mud and the dirt on her, but her tears also caused the colors she had painted on herself to run together.  That’s why even today when you see an abalone shell, the colors have run together.

 

Gold Girl did not cry tears of water, but of gold nuggets.  The Elders tell us when you find gold nuggets, you know that Gold Girl walked this way.

 

Even today, when you find abalone or gold nuggets, they are covered in dirt and mud, but beneath they have such great beauty.

 

A Sahaptin story retold by CoyoteCooks

 

Abalone shell has been a traditional type of “money” that was traded all the way from Mexico and southern California where the larger, heavier, and more iridescent abalone originates, all the way up into Alaska and British Columbia. Native artists have long loved to use abalone shell as insets into masks and jewelry.   In the pacific northwest, where this legend is told, the native abalone is smaller, with a more delicate shell that has paler colors. 

 

Sadly, the native abalone is now endangered, so if you’re going to enjoy some, make sure you use the more commercialized southern abalone.  After you’ve cleaned it, you’ll need to slice it into thin segments.  Cover the meat with plastic wrap and then beat it to tenderize.  Then it’s a simple matter to sauté the slices in butter in a hot pan.  Do it quickly—like a lot of seafood, if you overcook it, your delicacy will be tough and tasteless.  It’s a delight to then serve them in the original abalone shells. 

 

Since I’m currently living in the Valley of the Sun, I suspect it will be awhile before I have fresh abalone.

 

There’s another legend that tells Coyote’s son did not end up with a “happily ever after.”  He climbed up into a tree and fell, his raven-bright hair tangled in the branches and so he died. 

 

When Coyote found him, he mourned his death, and declared that in memory of his son, the hair tangled in the trees would become a gift to Human People.  In English, this is a lichen that some call “witch’s hair,” (talk about stereotypes!)  You’ll often find it referenced as black lichen, or sometimes horsehair lichen.  It looks a lot like the Spanish moss in more southern and eastern communities, but it’s not really a moss. 

 

In Sahaptin, the lichen is called “koonts”, which actually means “hair.”  It will grow on juniper, pine, and fir.  It’s gathered and carefully cleaned.  Using long sticks that are curved at the end, the harvesters twist the long strands of the lichen and pull them down.  The preparation and  processing takes about 12 hours, and involves soaking it in water until it condenses and is less bulky. 

 

The koonts is placed in the bottom of an earthen barbecue pit a couple of feet deep.  Pine boughs are placed over a layer of rocks that have been heated in a fire, and then a layer of dry pine needles go over the green boughs, followed by the wet koonts in a burlap bag.  There’s another layer of boughs and pine needles, another clean burlap bag, and then it’s all covered with a layer of soil.  A long stick is positioned in the center and then removed, leaving a “hole” where water is poured into the pit, and the hole will then allow for steam to escape.

 

When it’s done, the koonts will have further condensed into a brick like form, which is then cut into smaller “loaves” that can be stored for a long time.

 

To be honest, in Sahaptin tradition, this is considered a “famine food,’ rather than something eaten on a regular basis.  In more northern Native Nations, it’s considered a delicacy.  This may relate to the lichen taking on different flavors of its area.  I’ve never had it outside of Oregon or Washington state.

 

For some of the “high” Feast Days in the Longhouses, Elders may prepare koonts to serve with the other traditional foods as part of the “thanksgivings ceremonies.”  The koonts bricks are soaked in water and prepared as a type of thin “pudding.”  While the brick is black, the pudding is a dark grey-green.  The lichen is also traditionally used as a dye, which results in a dark green.  The soaking of the lichen in water helps dilute its vulpinic acid which improves the taste…and too much vulpinic acid can be toxic.

How Raven broke Salmon Woman’s Heart…

Long and long ago, even before the world turned upside down, Raven was flying high and saw a beautiful woman with bright red hair. 

 

 

As he watched, she adjusted wonderfully fat fillets of salmon, hanging them to dry.

 

Raven’s mouth began to water at the thought of all that salmon, and he swooped down to court her.  In those days, People could shift back and forth from one form to another.  He landed on the ground to stretch out his wings and took on human form. 

 

  He told her how her eyes sparkled like sunlight on water, and how amazing her hair was.

Raven can be charming when he wants to be and soon Salmon woman offered him a meal of the most delicious salmon he had ever had.

Days stretched on and Raven settled into a happy state of a full stomach and endless salmon.  One night as he curled beside her, he told her how much he envied her bright red hair that flashed like the fire beside them.

“If you wish,” she smiled, “you can have hair like mine.”  So saying she began to sing and stroked his head with fingers she had dipped into the icy water of the basket that she kept close to her bed.  Magic flowed from her fingertips and soon Raven’s head was covered in luxurious hair that matched her own.

 

 Salmon woman would leave each morning to tend to the salmon, and vainly, Raven admired himself for hours in the shiny surface of a copper.

 Copper is the name for the special objects made of copper that represent great wealth.  Copper is the only metal that can be used without being smelted, and is greatly loved by many Native people.  And speaking of love, Raven   loved the way he looked, and he reached for a piece of salmon that was hanging by the fire. Not watching, he accidently knocked the salmon down and into the ashes of the fire.

He sneered at the marred salmon, and then laughed because everywhere he looked there was more salmon, just waiting.  Just so, he kicked the fallen salmon into the fire.

For Native people, food is Sacred, and in the Northwest, salmon is said to be the first food given by the Creator to Human People.  When it is eaten, it is felt to be like the Eucharist for Christians…it is a type of communion with the Sacred.  It is treated with such respect that Northwest Nations have a First Salmon Ceremony.  This is when the very first salmon of the run is caught and praised as one of Noble Birth. 

 

 

The body of the First Salmon is cooked, with the head, tail, and skin saved.  The Elders of the community are offered the flesh of this Salmon, and then the remains are placed on a tray of ferns and a procession forms, with the remains carried to the river where it spawned, while members of the community sing a song of thanksgivings.  It is said that if this ceremony is not performed, the Salmon People will stop returning.

 

 

 

The Salmon woman walked into her lodge just in time to see Raven callously kick her precious salmon into the fire as if it were simply trash.  Heartbroken, she turned and walked away, silent as the stones. Her tears fell with silence heavier than the stones.

 

As she walked outside, the salmon began to move.  Even the salmon that had been drying began to twitch and switch.  Every salmon, even the one covered in ashes, came back to life and followed her and her tears to the shore. 

 

 

 

 

 

Raven called out his apologies, but she ignored him, and stepped into the dark water.  The salmon splashed into the river, causing a great boiling of water.

 

 

Raven watched them disappear and suddenly his scalp began to itch like crazy.  He touched his head and clumps of red hair fell out and onto the ground.  The only thing left were the stiff black feathers Raven wears today.

 

 

 

 

Some say the Salmon woman was so hurt by what Raven had done, she will only near the shore in the form of mist or fog, where she swirls and dances and listens to discover if the Human People are treating her children with respect.

 

 

 

A Twana story retold by CoyoteCooks

 

Two nights ago I baked a sockeye salmon, laid upon slices of lemon I had placed in the center of heavy duty aluminum foil.  I lightly salted and peppered the top of the salmon and then tightly sealed the foil.  I had placed the aluminum foil package on a new cookie sheet and put it into the oven at 400 degrees.  I had also made a matching sealed envelope of foil that I had filled with raw shrimp, roasted garlic,basil straight from the pot on my balcony,  kernels I had cut from a fresh ear of corn, and a few splashes of chili sauce.  I squeezed more fresh lemon juice on top, just as I had squeezed fresh lemon juice on top of the sockeye salmon before I had placed it into the oven.  I checked on both occasionally until they were done.

  I enjoy the idea of taking traditional Native American foods—in this case, the shrimp, fresh corn, and chili—but in a new combination, since Native people from the Southwest would be used to corn and chili, but historically would rarely encounter shrimp.  In Pacific Northwest traditional cooking, strong spices are not used.  But I enjoy spicy things so two days later I took the leftover salmon from the refrigerator and simmered it in a tasty salsa after I had sautéed garlic and onion in the pan first.  For color and crunch, during the last few minutes of cooking, I threw in a handful of diced green pepper.  Just before I was ready to use the salsa salmon filling, I scattered in a handful of shredded parmesan cheese to thicken the mixture.

 Meanwhile, I had taken taco shells and first swiped the inside with sour cream, then a dollop of guacamole in the center.  I took an additional sliver of fresh avocado and laid it on top of the guacamole, and then squeezed fresh lime juice over the guacamole/avocado.  I filled the taco shells with the salsa salmon and sprinkled shredded lettuce on top.  A very tasty and juicy way to end a busy day.

How Deer Came To Be…

Long and long ago, before the World turned upside down, all the people were animals.  But they didn’t look like the animals we have today.  They looked more like human people.  It wasn’t until later that The Changer came and gave everything a purpose and a reason for being—changed the course of rivers—made mountains, and gave animals the size and shapes they have today.  Some say Coyote was the one who did this, and Coyote never denied it…
Now imagine that someone came by tomorrow where you worked and announced that The Changer was coming on Friday, and would change everything.  Some of you would end up with wings, some with horns, and some with fins.  You might act the way the People did back then. 

 

Some feared the Change.  Some looked forward to it, and others were indifferent. 

 

The Deer People were Warriors, and thinking like Warriors, they didn’t want things to change.  They wanted things to stay the way they were.  Thinking like Warriors, they decided it would be best to kill The Changer, so He wouldn’t be able to Change them.

 

They took bones and began to sharpen them into knives.  As they sharpened the bone knives they chanted, “Memelos, Memelos, Dukweebah, Memelos, Memelos, Dukweebah,” which means “Kill The Changer! Kill The Changer!”

Then they sang their Deer Song and danced.  Instead of a drum, they used the clacking together of their bone knives to keep their rhythm.   When they finished they again chanted to Kill The Changer.

 

Now Someone was watching them and that Someone was The Changer.

 

“What a pretty song Someone is singing,” He said.  “Will you sing it for Me again?”

 

The Deer Warriors looked at each other and agreed to sing their song again.  They finished with the chant of Kill The Changer!, sharpening their bone knives.

 “Give me those!” He commanded.  He took away their bone knives and sliced open their hands and feet.

 

“From now on, you will be called “Sway-shut,” or Split-Foot.  You will be Deer.”

 

He shoved the bone knives into their bodies, and even today, Native people will use that bone as an awl in making baskets.

 

“Go forth—you will be Deer forever.  And because you plotted to kill Me, you will be food for the Human People who are coming.  They will use your skin for their moccasins, clothing and drums.  They will use your hooves for rattles and your antlers.  Every part of you will be used by the Human People who are coming.  Now go!” 

 

 

As they ran past Him, He clapped His hands twice to finalize the Change, and they all turned to look in the direction of the sound.  Just so, even today, Deer will turn and look in the direction of a noise.

 

 

 

Further along the coast, they tell the story a little differently.   They say that Deer sharpened knives made of shell. 

 When The Changer took the shell knives away, He stuck them on top of the Deer’s head, and that’s why even today, their ears are so shell-shaped. 

 

 

 

 It’s also said that when He had finished, He noticed His hands were covered in white dust from the shells. 

As the Deer ran by He slapped them on their asses, and that’s why even today Deer has a white ass…

 

 

 

 

A Twana legend retold by CoyoteCooks

 

Deer jerky is one of my favorite snacks.  I would often come home from the University, and my mom would have strips of jerky drying above the stove.

 

Many legends like the one about Deer are told in a cycle during the Wintertime.  Time in the world is understood to be in  different stages.  There is the time before The Change–the time during The Change–the time after The Change–and historical time.  The actual word in the Twana language for The Change is Spelatch, which is the word used for “capsizing,”–like a canoe turning upside down.  In the earlier times, forms were not as “set” as they are now, and people could more easily change back and forth between shapes. 

A great deal of the Northwest Coast Native Art explores this amazing transformation…one shape merging into another…the outer mask opens up and reveals a hidden mask within….

Coyote and the Salmon

 

 

 

Welcome Back to CoyoteCooks!

 

Ok, I promised I’d start with a Coyote and Salmon story:

Long time ago, when the sun still shone without embarrassment, Coyote was going along.  Coyote had heard the Beaver sisters had created a dam to block the water, trapping all the salmon for their use.  Now, Coyote really wanted some salmon, and he plotted about how to get all the salmon for himself, although he also figured he’d tell everyone else he was liberating the salmon so everyone could have them—not just the Beaver sisters.

When he saw their lodge, he started screaming and yelling and shouting:  “Oh, it’s the most amazing thing!  Oh, it’s incredible!  I can’t believe it!”

 

The sisters came out to see what was making him crazy.  “What is it, Coyote?”

 

  

 

“Oh, It’s…words can’t begin to…never seen anything like it!  Huge!  Big! Amazing!”  He kept jumping up and down and screaming!  “And it’s really far OVER THERE!”  And just like that, the Beaver sisters were running in that direction.

 

 

Coyote chuckled to himself and went in to their lodge to “borrow” some baskets to carry salmon.  Now in those days, baskets were different than they are now.  They had feet—like a duck.  Baskets would follow you around if you told them to.  Coyote ordered the baskets to follow him down to the water where he cut a switch out of willow.  He ordered the baskets to dip themselves into the water and capture as many salmon as they could.  One by one, the baskets jumped into the water and emerged full of water and salmon.

 

“Now march!” commanded Coyote.  “Faster! Faster!” He realized he needed to get away before the Beaver sisters returned.  When he felt the baskets weren’t going as quickly as he wanted, he beat them with the switch.  They sped up, but as they waddled with their burden, the water began to splash out of them.

 

“Careful! Careful!  Don’t spill any water or the salmon will die!”  Oh, he switched those poor baskets with his switch of willow.  They slowed down, attempting to hold each drop of water within. 

 

“Too slow!” Coyote shouted. “Faster!  Faster!  The Beaver sisters will be back any minute!”  And he beat those poor baskets! 

 

Every time the baskets slowed down he beat them, and every time they sped up and splashed out water he beat them.

Finally the baskets just squatted down, and would not move no matter how much he yelled at them or beat them.  Exhausted from his effort, Coyote collapsed on the ground.  As soon as he dropped his switch, each basket took off as fast as it could, running away from Coyote.  They ran in different directions, and as soon as a basket would come to a river, it would dump the salmon out

 

And that’s why even today, there are certain types of salmon that will come up one river, but not another, depending on which river a basket dumped its treasure.

 

And Coyote was so angry, he shouted, “Today, I, Coyote declare a new law!  From now on, baskets will no longer have feet!”  And that’s why even today—baskets don’t have feet.

A Sahaptin story, retold by CoyoteCooks

 

• There are five species of salmon native to the Pacific NW.  Different salmon do indeed spawn and return to certain rivers and not others.  The first White people to arrive recorded that the salmon runs were so great, you could “walk across their backs.” www.nps.gov/whmi/forteachers/upload/Waiilatpu%20Mission%20Resource%20Education%20Guide.doc
• The legends say Coyote gave strict instructions about how the Salmon People were to be treated with respect, and if humans did not do so, the Salmon people would stop returning.  It would seem the legends are very true, and the Salmon People have dropped in numbers to the extent restrictions are in place to prevent the fishing industry from overharvesting.
• http://yubanet.com/regional/Salmon-Fishing-Ban-to-Continue-Off-California-Oregon.php

 

One of my favorite memories is the taste of salmon eggs that have been placed directly under a broiler—about 4 inches or so, and allowed to stay there until they change color to look like cooked egg whites—keep checking on them—they will only take a few minutes.  The texture will be closer to cream cheese, but they will have a fresh and amazing flavor Incidentally, there is a difference between “caviar”—the eggs of the salmon that are unfertilized, and “roe,” the fertilized eggs and already laid eggs of the salmon.  If you live near a place where people actually fish for salmon, for example, the Ballard, or the Pikes Place Market in Seattle, see about buying the salmon eggs directly—otherwise they will be incredibly expensive.  The salmon eggs will be in large masses—this is what I remember putting under the broiler.

 

1. And finally—in my last post I mentioned Moose Nose soup.  One of the first things you need to do?  First get a moose.  If you don’t have Sarah Palin to shoot one for you, do the best you can. {  The Truth about Sarah Palin and Wildlife in Alaska

Sarah Palin claims that aerial hunting is necessary to help poor Alaskans who need to hunt moose for food. But it costs $500/hr. to charter a bush plane, …
www.grizzlybay.org/SarahPalinInfoPage.htm }

 In all situations like this, there is a prayer and often a thanksgivings ceremony that is done to celebrate the animal person sharing itself with you.  There is assurance that the death is not a wasted one, but the flesh will be used in a respectful way to feed one’s family.  In some communities, part of the animal will be left out as a gift to wolves.  And if you’re making Moose Nose soup?  You kick the hell out of the nose, as soon as you can—this will result in a hemorrhage of the blood so the nose will be saturated before you cook it.  The soup is good, although I will admit looking at the moose nose hairs is a little off-putting for me.

 

I also mentioned being careful what camas you gather—you have to look at the camas patches while they are still flowering.  Purplish blue—great taste. 

 

 

 

White flowers?  Deathcamas.  Not recommended.

 

 

 

 

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Welcome to CoyoteCooks!

 

 

Welcome to CoyoteCooks!

 

CoyoteCooks is an opportunity for me to take a little time and recall not only Native American traditional foods, but the stories and memories I have that blend in with the smell of Pueblo bread fresh from the outdoor oven—the crisp ashy taste of pili  paper bread peeled from the stone griddle—or the cheesy white goodness of fresh salmon eggs under the broiler. Over the years I’ve had the opportunity to travel many places in my work, and in the process, experiencing wonderful people in Native communities and their foods across the United States and Canada.  I’ve also been blessed with the chance to travel through Indonesia, Guam, Sai-Pan, and other places where indigenous cultures and their foods are still going strong.

   A long time ago, a friend of mine asked me to co-teach a college class in multi-ethnic cooking.  We had worked together with an anti-racism and discrimination project in the public schools.  It was her idea food was something all people had in common—but foods differ across communities.  People combine foods in different ways.  Some foods are taboo.  Some will serve something at the start of a meal, and another culture will serve the same thing at the end of one.  Some cultures are appalled by the thought of cheese, and some cultures include dog in their diet.  A course in multi-ethnic cooking allowed us to approach cultures in a non-threatening way.  And the best part—after discussing how foods are prepared and served, and telling the stories of how the food plays a role in a particular group—we were able to eat our work! 

  I also watched (and helped) my relatives prepare traditional foods for guests at the tribal resort.  As I listened to them tell the legends that went with the foods being prepared, and the sacredness of the foods…I always thought at one point I wanted to share that with other people.

  Just so, this is my opportunity to remember a lot of those dishes and the stories that went with them. When you live in a reservation household with a lot of little Indian kids underfoot, you accept the fact when you’re ready to run out the door to sing, you’ll often reach for your drum and realize all your drum sticks are missing.  Little kids love drum sticks.  You end up playing your drum with a wooden spoon you’ve wrapped a sock around.  Some of the recipes will be hard to duplicate unless you’re able to find a patch of bitterroot, dig them up and dry them properly.    Sometimes you have to metaphorically wrap a sock around a wooden spoon.  There were times when someone showed up unexpectedly at the door, your family members grabbed a roll of Pillsbury biscuits and threw them into hot oil to do a very fast version of Indian Fry Bread.       If you use the roll of biscuits, it makes a fairly good standard fry bread.                 If you use a package of crescent rolls, then you get a version of the sopapilla you’ll find in New Mexico.

 

 

While I enjoy fixing something very traditional,   I was taught never to be afraid of trying something new, so I try to be creative when I can.   For example, I’ll make huckleberry custard filling for cream puffs.  Stop back by on a regular basis and let me tell you what you have to do as a first step in preparing  Moose Nose Soup, or what will happen if you harvest the wrong camas.

  Next time I promise to start by telling you a story about Coyote and the Salmon.