Coyote Cooks Press Presents: Coyote Still Going: Native American Legends and Contemporary Stories

I started this blog soon after I moved to Arizona a few years ago. At the time I had long dreamed about publishing a book that would be a combination of a cookbook on Native American traditional and contemporary recipes, the meaning of food within the context of Indigenous cultures, and a sort of memoir of my experiences living and working in Native communities in the United States and other countries.

I wanted to share in a way I had watched my relatives do–teaching and sharing with others in a non-threatening and entertaining way. It was also an opportunity to give people in the local storytelling community a chance to get a sense of the sort of Stories I would tell when performing. But ultimately, I thought of it as a chance to get something down I would one day show to a publisher.
More recently epublishing has revolutionized how books in various forms can be distributed to the public. Just so, I recently released Coyote Still Going: Native American Legends and Contemporary Stories. The new book is now available on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/Coyote-Still-Going-Contemporary-ebook/dp/B00F7NBWIO/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1380224822&sr=1-1&keywords=coyote+still+going
or Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id708307972
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/coyote-still-going-native-american-legends-and-contemporary-stories
or Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/coyote-still-going-ty-nolan/1116912616?ean=2940148388593&itm=1&usri=2940148388593

It will also be coming out in a paperback version and as an audiobook. If you enjoy my work, it would mean a great deal to me if you were to leave a review on the site where you bought it, or on Goodreads. Thank you!

Coyote Still Going: Native American Legends and Contemporary Stories

by Ty Nolan, Coyote Cooks Press

Here are some Stories (Traditional Native Legends) and some stories (personal history.)

I am a professional storyteller and a therapist. Coyote Still Going retells the mostly Sahaptin and Twana traditional legends I was taught by my relatives. It’s also a memoir of how I have told these stories, from celebrating the twenty-fifth anniversary of Mr. Rogers to using the Sahaptin legend of the Butterfly at an International AIDS Conference in discussing grief and loss. Traditional Native American legends are powerful teaching tools.

The book also contains recipes. Food, spirituality, and community are always woven together—you can’t understand one without the others. I was raised with the importance of the sacredness of food and the legends that explain why we celebrate the First Salmon Ceremony, or why we understand taking a sip of water before a meal is a type of prayer.

Many Native Nations begin a Coyote legend with some variation of “Coyote Was Going There.” Trust me—Coyote? Still Going. It’s about time Ebooks caught up with that crazy Trickster.

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You can also visit my Amazon Author Page: amazon.com/author/tynolan

Meet Richard Hetzler, Executive Chef of The National Museum of the American Indian’s Mitsitam Cafe

I regret deeply not being able to participate in the 2004 opening of the National Museum of the American Indian—my family flew in to dance for the celebration, but I was presenting at a conference, and wasn’t able to join them.

Over the intervening years when I’m in D.C., I’ve always tried to leave time to visit the Museum’s Mitsitam Café (in the Piscataway and Delaware languages, mitsitam means “let’s eat”).  It’s been recognized as one of the major culinary attractions in the D.C. area, and Rachael Ray has recommended it on her television show.  Atlantic Monthly has featured Mitsitam Café and its Executive Chef, as has Cowboy and Indian Magazine. Gourmand Magazine has awarded its new cookbook as “Best Regional” in the U.S.  In March, it will be competing in Paris for “Best in the World.”

Executive Chef, Richard Hetlzer, was involved from the inception of the restaurant, with its intention of integrating the Museum’s emphasis on Native cultures through indigenous foods.  He is a 1995 graduate of the Baltimore International Culinary College,   “We were involved with
planning a year and a half before the opening,” Richard told me.

(Richard Hetzler)

In the Atlantic Monthly article, architect Duane Blue Spruce discussed some of the challenges in designing the café:   “The assumption was that, of course, the cafeteria would serve native food, but we had a difficult time backing that assumption up… We wanted to show that there are regional differences. Not only culturally, but in terms of food.”

The Mitsitam Native Foods Café is divided into five geographic stations, with each region having a separate menu. These include the Northern Woodlands, South American, Meso America, the Great Plains, and the Northwest Coast and Columbia Plateau.

(Three Sisters Salad)
Several of the stations also provide a “feast for the eyes” as visitors can
watch their food being prepared in grill fires and pots.

Richard has discussed working with foods very familiar to most Native Americans, such as fry bread, or salmon prepared on cedar planks.  He’s also been creative about combining what
was available to local Native Nations.  “A great example is the maple-brined turkey…We know that Native Americans cured items in salt, so essentially they were doing a brine, infusing the flavor, adding  moisture…They definitely had turkey. They had maple syrup. It works for us,” he said in a Smithsonian Institute interview.

(Maple Brined Turkey)

One of the issues that came up during our interview was the
challenge of providing Native based foods for the enormous volume of customers served.  “In the winter, our slow season, we’re serving 500-600 people a day.  During our peak that climbs to 1,500-3,000 a day.”  Richard is always looking for sources of Native foods from tribal suppliers.  He has salmon flown in from the Quinault Nation of Washington State.  To supply buffalo meat, he works with the Montana based Intertribal Bison Cooperative.

(Mitsitam Indian Buffalo Taco)

We also talked about working with what food sources are available.  Some items that a tribal group might supply may be too small in number, or simply too expensive for the general Café format.   This isn’t a problem, according to Richard.   “Nothing is too big or too small. Winter is a slow time of the year, and we might feature something on the menu that we couldn’t provide in the peak season.  We change menus every three months.  We can run it as a special—turn it into a vinaigrette—giving customers  the flavor.  For example, with fiddlehead ferns, it would be too expensive to serve them by themselves. But I can have twenty pounds of salad and add five pounds of fiddleheads, so everyone gets a taste of them. “ (Fiddlehead Ferns)

Richard also mentioned his fondness for saguaro cactus syrup, comparing it to a truffle as an item that costs too much to use every day.   He buys the syrup from Tohono O’odham Community Action (TOCA), a Native American non-profit organization based in southern Arizona.  Expensive items like this might be used as a drizzle for a special presentation.  One of the reasons it costs so much is how labor-intensive the syrup is to make, as the TOCA site explains:

The saguaro fruit ripens during the hot months of June and July and is hand harvested just before the torrential monsoon rains using a traditional picking stick up to fifteen feet high made  of saguaro ribs. Traditionally, the fruit is made into syrup and the tiny black seeds and saffron like pulp are sun dried. Most saguaro syrup – bahidaj sitol – is used in the annual rain ceremony. A very small amount is available to the public. Thick and mahogany colored, this is the most rare of the world’s fruit syrups. Made from hand-harvested saguaro fruit, cooked slowly over mesquite fires, its unusual, deep flavor is both sweet and  smoky. Saguaro syrup can be used in a similar manner as the finest aged balsamic vinegars. It is excellent as a glaze, garnish or drizzled over fresh fruit or ice cream. The crunchy seeds are rich in healthy oils and fiber and can be used in place of poppy seeds in any recipe.

TOCA provides Richard with another favorite of his– Ciolim (Cholla Cactus Buds), as well as Bawĭ (Tepary Beans). It’s easy to understand why these Cholla Cactus Buds are such a hit—again, turning to the TOCA site:  Ciolim – cholla buds – have sustained the Tohono O’odham for countless generations.  Just before the buckthorn cholla cactus flowers in the spring, its buds are hand picked, cleaned of their many thorns and dried for use year-round.

Cholla buds have a unique flavor that includes tones that range from artichoke to asparagus –green and vibrant. Once cooked, cholla buds will triple in size. These delectable desert vegetables love marinades and will readily absorb the flavors of whatever they are cooked with. Terrific in antipastos, chiles, salads and sautées, use them as you would artichoke hearts or asparagus tips.

Cholla buds are incredibly healthy. Even as a side dish in a meal, cholla buds can improve how food affects the body. Two tablespoons of dried buckhorn cholla, for example, provides as much calcium as a glass of milk (14 grams of dry cholla buds supply 394 mg of calcium while one cup of whole milk supplies 276 mg of calcium). Yet, while a glass of milk may have 100-150 calories, the cholla buds only have 28 calories. And because cholla buds contain soluble pectins, they slow down digestion of sugars and other carbohydrates.  The result is better control over blood-sugar level, eliminating the highs and lows.

(TOCA Art)

Richard shared with me the restaurant  wants to buy from and give back to Native communities, the way they work with TOCA, ITBC, and the Quinaults.  While the non-Native Richard has had the opportunity to employ only two American Indian workers, the week of our interview, he had entered into discussions with the Navajo Technical College to explore placing interns with the college’s culinary arts program.

The Mitsitam Café Cookbook was the result of three years of labor, and features 90 recipes with beautiful photography from Renee Comet.  Because the restaurant serves so many people per day, the recipes had to be modified to meet the needs of a home cook.  Richard explained, “The staff at the museum each took three or four recipes home, made them and critiqued them, and we adjusted the recipes. One of the pushes behind the book was to really find and make recipes that any person could make. You don’t have to be a chef to recreate any of it.”

Richard will be flying to Paris this March, where the Mitsitam Café Cookbook will compete at Gourmand Magazine’s World Cookbook Awards.  There are 53 categories, with over 150 countries represented.  When I asked him what he will demonstrate, he told me he planned to showcase his Wild Rice Salad, explaining it was something he could do that would easily fit within the 20 minutes he will be allotted, and uses ingredients that are easily available.

Best of luck, Richard—and here’s the recipe he will be using:

Wild Rice Salad

This recipe is from Mitsitam Cafe,
National Museum of the American Indian.

1/2 cup pine nuts

1/4 cup pumpkin seeds

6 cups chicken stock

11/2 cup wild rice

1 carrot, cut into
half-inch-long matchsticks

3 tablespoons dried cranberries

1 Roma tomato, finely diced

4 or 5 scallions,
finely chopped

3 bunches watercress

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Spread the pine nuts and pumpkin seeds in a small baking pan and toast them in
the oven for about 10 minutes, until they are golden brown. Let cool.

Combine the chicken stock and wild rice in a stockpot. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low, and simmer, covered, for about 45–55 minutes, until the grains are just opened up and tender. Spread the hot rice on a baking sheet and let cool.

When the rice is cool, scrape it into a large bowl and add carrots, dried cranberries, diced tomato, toasted pine nut and pumpkin seed mixture, and scallions.

Toss all of the ingredients together with the vinaigrette, refrigerate for at least 1 hour, and serve over watercress.
Makes 4 to 6 servings.

VINAIGRETTE

3 tablespoons
apple-cider vinegar

1/4cup plus 2 tablespoons
canola oil

2 tablespoons honey

Place cider vinegar in a bowl, and slowly mix in oil. Sweeten with just a touch of honey.

Why You Shouldn’t Whistle At Night…

She is tall…bigger than Sasquatch, and her body is covered with long, black, greasy hair. Her eyes are large like an owl’s, and her fingers are tipped with sharp claws. Her lips are formed in the eternal pucker of an eerie whistle, and children are told if they don’t listen to their elders, she will come to them at night and suck their brains out of their ears. She is called At’at’lia, Dash-Kayah, Tsonoquah, and names whispered when the time is right, and not for publication.  Children are warned not to take food that she offers.  If she catches you, she’ll throw  you inside the basket she carries on her back.  Her basket is so large she can fit 10 children in it…and that’s her favorite meal—10 children.  She is a cannibal…she eats human flesh.

 

Long Time Ago…there was a young boy, named after the Silver Salmon.  He woke up early in the morning and the warmth of the rising sun felt good on his face.  He sang a song to thank the sun.  The boy went out to go fishing but he went so far he realized he wouldn’t be able to return home before the sun went down, so he decided to camp where he was.

It was late at night and the moon was full.  Now White people tell us there’s a man in the moon, but our old people tell us it’s really a frog.  And so it was , the frog in the moon was looking down at him when clouds covered the moon and everything was dark.

Suddenly he heard a strange whistling, and the clouds blew away from the moon and he could see a monster standing in the darkness.

“Don’t be afraid,” she called out to him—“People make up terrible stories about me, but I’m really a very nice person.  In fact,” she said, holding out her hand, “I’m a very nice person.  I have some berries for you…I know you must be hungry.  Children are always hungry.”  And in her claw like hand he saw a pile of berries.

When he reached to take some of the berries, she took her other hand from behind her back.  It was smeared with sticky sap from the trees.  She slapped him with her hand and his eyes were glued shut!  He was blind!  She grabbed him up and stuffed him into her basket and ran through the woods whistling.

She came to a clearing and dumped him on to the ground.  She had built a large fire and all around the fire were other children she had stolen.  She was going to barbeque them.

She was so proud of herself, that she was going to have such a fine meal of young children, she started to sing and dance around the fire.

The boy was afraid, because he knew he would be eaten.  He wished he could start his day over again.  He thought of how his day had begun, with the warmth of the sun on his face.  The warmth of the fire reminded him of the warmth of the sun.  Just so, he leaned closer to the fire.  The heat of the fire began to melt the sticky stuff on his eyes, and he could see again.  As the Cannibal Woman continued to dance, he got an idea and whispered this idea to the girl next to him, who whispered it to the boy next to her…and so it went around the circle of the children.

When she finished, the monster was so tired she could hardly stand up…and that’s when the boy shouted, “NOW!”  And all the children jumped up and pushed her into the fire.  She began to burn…but she didn’t burn like ordinary things burn. 

 She burned like fireworks!  Her body burst into a cloud of sparks…and that’s where mosquitoes come from.  They still live off the blood of young children, even today. 

That was the end of At’at’lia …but she had three sisters…and those sisters are still around.  And that’s why we teach our children “you must never whistle at night…because you don’t want to call those spirit beings to you!”

A traditional Sahaptin story

Retold by CoyoteCooks

I thought I’d share the At’at’lia legend as a celebration of Halloween.  A number of years ago, I first met the Medical Director of the clinic where I would work at a Halloween Party for Medical Residents.  He was wearing a tuxedo and a gorilla mask.  My mentor, Carolyn Attneave was a scarecrow, and I had on an articulated skull mask and a button blanket I had made.  I had been cast earlier in the play Raven, based on NW Coastal legends, and was playing “Shadowman” which explained my costume decision.

The Medical Director was from Belgium, and I asked him about Halloween customs in his own country.  He said he was shocked the first year in the United States, when children suddenly knocked on his door demanding candy.  To my own surprise, he shared Jackolanterns in Belgium were made from turnips instead of pumpkins.  In retrospect, I suppose this makes sense, given the reality pumpkins are Native America in origin—they’re a type of squash.  Pumpkin seeds dating back to at least 8,000 years ago have been found in Mexico.   In fact, the word “pumpkin” in Europe refers to what would be called “winter squash” in the United States.   In a quick search, carved turnips and other root vegetables used as a jackolantern were well known in Ireland and the British Isles, but there’s not a lot written about Halloween customs in Belgium.

(Traditional Irish Jackolantern)

 While it was certainly traditional to use fire to celebrate the harvest time, apparently jackolanterns are a relatively late addition.  Nathaniel Hawthorne is reportedly the first to mention them in 1837 in his Twice-Told Tales, making reference to making a jackolantern, and a magazine article from 1885 is the first to mention Americans introduced the idea of carving pumpkins into jackolanterns—much easier than carving a turnip.

By the way–here’s what the Trick or Treat crowd found when they rang my doorbell–

For dinner, I took a small sugar pie pumpkin, and did the standard scoop and clean, saving the seeds for planting and roasting.  I washed out the inside and rubbed in butter, with a sprinkling of garlic, ground black pepper, and salt.  I put the “lid” top back on and microwaved it for four minutes to cut off time in the oven.  Let’s face it, when you live in Arizona and it’s still hovering in the 90’s, you really don’t want your regular oven on any longer than necessary.  This is also something I often do with other squash. I  then took four slices of bacon and cut them into smaller pieces.  Plopping them into a skillet, they provided the grease to sauté chopped onion, carrots, and celery.  I also took out one of the sweet Italian sausages I’ve been enjoying, and sliced it up to add with the rest.   I seasoned the mixture with Italian herbs, and a few sprinkles of Worcestershire sauce.   When the veggies had softened and the meats were done, I added breadcrumbs, a handful of parmesan cheese,  and enough water to have a soft consistency dressing.  (btw–in re-reading, I should mention I’m not giving specific measurements, because I was “eye-balling” what would fit into the pumpkin, and that would vary based on the size of pumpkin you might use.  Since I’m always thinking a meal or two ahead, the leftover stuffing I had went into a freezer bag to be used to stuff portabella mushrooms in the next couple of weeks.)  I stuffed the little pumpkin with the dressing, placed the top back back on and wrapped it tightly with aluminum foil and placed it on a cookie sheet in a 350degree oven.  This results in a pumpkin softened to the point you can eat everything (Hey—in my family, we were raised to eat the skin of the salmon and the “outside” of a lot of vegetables) and the dressing is extremely moist.    I had also prepared chicken kabobs, and after spending about an hour in the oven, I removed the pumpkin and then used the oven to grill the kabobs.  A knife piercing the pumpkin let me know it was done, but it was easy to just look at it and know it was ready.

Incidentally, there’s an interesting recent study in China on the use of pumpkin extract which shows it may regenerate pancreatic cells.  This could have a potential beneficial impact on pre-diabetics, although American researchers stress it’s too early to know if the animal study can be directly applied to humans.  Apparently, however, pumpkin is traditionally used in Asia in alternative medicine for the treatment of diabetes.  http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSCOL06164820070710

Update:  I had some leftover stuffed pumpkin, and on a whim, I prepared some angelhair pasta, and microwaved the pumpkin (cut into cubes) with the bacon/sausage dressing, and a few tablespoons of leftover fresh salsa, since I didn’t have any tomato sauce.  When tossed with the angel hair, this was so good I think next time that’s how I’ll serve it–as the entree,  rather than using it as a side dish.

Roots and Wings

 

Long and long ago, there was a great Chief. 

He had a son, and loved him very much.  “One day,” he always told others around him, “my son will not only grow up to be a Great Chief, but a powerful Medicine Man as well.”

  The boy heard this, but did not think anything of it.

  When it was time, the boy was prepared for his Vision Quest.  For a girl this is when she is usually first tied to the Moon, and for boys, it is often when their nipples turn out.  Traditionally, the Vision Quest will take place on the top of a mountain, or by running water.  A child is taken to the place of the Vision Quest, mentored by a Medicine Person.  The Vision Quest helps a person discover who they are meant to be…a purpose and a reason for being.

  “My son,” called the Chief, “will become a powerful Medicine Man.  For that reason, I summon seven Medicine Men from the four directions to watch over him—to prepare him for his Vision Quest.” And so seven Medicine Men came, some from very far away.

In the traditional manner, they painted him with red ochre.  

This is considered to be a type of protection.  When someone is involved in spiritual things, he or she will shine, and it will attract the attention of things of the spirit.  Some of these are indifferent, some are dangerous and some are kind.  The red paint is to keep away those things that are not kind.

A Vision Quest will traditionally take 4 days and 4 nights.  During this time, the Seekers will not eat.  He or she will fast, and take only as much water as they can hold in their mouths at one time.  The first day went by, and there was no vision.  The second day…no vision.  The third day…no vision. 

 On the fourth day, when nothing had happened, the Medicine Men returned to the boy’s father.  “Perhaps he is not yet ready,” one said.  “There is no shame in this.  Different people grow in different ways.  Let us bring him back and have him try again at a later time.”

  “No,” the Chief replied.  “You know, and I know that the longer it takes for a vision to occur, the more powerful it will be.  That is why he has not received his vision.  Paint him again!”

  And so it was the Medicine Men returned to the boy, painting him again with more of the red paint.  A fifth day went by without a vision.  A sixth day.  A seventh.  The Medicine Men returned to the boy’s father.  “No one has ever fasted this long,” said one.
“We fear this is not his time,” said another.  “We ask that you let us bring him back.  Let him continue his Vision Quest at another time.”

“No!” said the Chief.  “You are all jealous because you know that he will not only one day be a Great Chief, but one day he will be more powerful than any of you!  Paint him again, and let the Vision Quest continue!”

The Medicine Men returned to the boy.  They repainted him.  Nine days went by without a vision.  Then ten.  Then eleven.  On the twelfth day, the Chief went himself to the place of the Vision Quest.  His son was gone.

Frightened, he ran through the woods, calling out his son’s name.  A small bird followed behind him.  Finally, exhausted, he sat down on the stump of a tree, his eyes full of pain—for he truly loved his son.

The little bird approached him.  “I was your son,” the small bird said. 

“All my life you would tell other people that I would one day be a Great Chief.  That I would one day be a powerful Medicine Man.  But never once did you ever ask me what I wanted.  I did not desire to be a chief.  I did not desire to be a Medicine Man.  I just wanted to be myself.  The Creator took pity on me, and gave me this shape to wear.  It is to teach parents that they must not force their own dreams on their children.  They must give their children roots and wings.  They must help their children become who they are meant to be.”

 In English, we call that little bird the Robin.  And so it is even today when you see a Robin it still wears the red paint from long ago.

A Sahaptin Legend retold by CoyoteCooks

This was a legend my Aunt Prunie used to tell.  One time I asked her to paint me for a powwow, and she took red paint and marked my forehead solid, and then used her thumb to remove the red ochre in four small and equal circles.   When I do traditional dancing, this is the way I continue to paint my face.

In the Pacific Northwest, the red ochre (and other colors) are often mixed with elk marrow used as a base, so the paint can be easily applied.  The elk marrow was also a salve that speeded up healing of the skin.  For example, an elder used it on me when I had developed some blisters from constant drumming while helping someone being initiated into Winter Spirit Dancing.  It was amazing to me how quickly the blisters vanished.

The tradition for many Native Nations is to have the first Vision Quest take place around puberty, but there are certainly stories of younger children who did this.  Over the years, when the American and Canadian governments attempted to suppress Native traditions, some people had to wait until later in life to be initiated or to go for a Vision Quest.  For some people, a number of Vision Quests might take place during a lifetime.

I was very happy with how the salmon turned out tonight.  I realize I keep mentioning several ways of preparing salmon, but I try to eat it at least three times a week, so I enjoy a variety of options.  For today’s marinade, I whisked together 2 tablespoons of teriyaki sauce, a tablespoon of soy sauce, the juice of half a lemon, 2 tablespoons of olive oil, and a couple of spoonfuls of sesame seeds.  I had wanted to add some roasted sesame seed oil, but was disappointed to discover I was out of it.   Given the fact it was supposed to hit 114 degrees (and the next two days it’s going to be 116…) I decided I could live without running to the store to pick up some more roasted sesame seed oil.  I wanted to add more honey, but I was also low on that so I sprinkled in another tablespoon of raw sugar into the mix. I left the salmon dressed in this for a few hours.  The sesame seeds seem to provide a nice thickening agent.  When I placed the salmon into a shallow Pyrex roasting pan, I shook out more sesame seeds on the top.  Popped it into a 400 degree oven until it was done, spooning the marinade over it again before serving.

To compliment the salmon I took fresh broccoli and spinach leaves and added salt, pepper, and crushed garlic.  I used a large skillet, adding water to the veggies and brought it to a boil.  After a few minutes, I used a slotted spoon to remove the broccoli and spinach into a bowl of water, and added ice.  This keeps the veggies a bright green and doesn’t let them overcook.  When I was ready to serve, I added them back into the water of the skillet and heated everything up again.  I then plated the veggies, sprinkling them with bacon crumbs and more sesame seeds.   I  placed a serving of salmon on top of the veggies. The smokiness of the bacon mixed wonderfully with the flavor of the salmon.

Why Dog Does Stupid Things

There’s a Twana word that has no direct translation into English.  Dukwaps. Elders say it means “Something so stupid, only a dog would do it.”

 

  

  

  

  

 

 

 

 

 

WHY DOG DOES STUPID THINGS

Long and long ago, The Creator was giving out gifts to all the Animal People.

To Eagle, The Creator gave powerful eyes to see.

To Bear, The Creator gave the ability to heal.

To Beaver, The Creator gave the skill of working with wood.

To Wolf, The Creator gave great hunting prowess.

At last, when the bag of gifts was almost empty,

The Creator looked inside and saw there was only one item left…Dukwaps.

 “Who wants Dukwaps?” called The Creator.

Dog (Who had already been given Faithfulness) yelled back, “—I’ll take it!”

 And so it is, even today, when a dog does something so stupid, only a dog would do it, Elders say, “Why did you have to choose Dukwaps?”

 

A traditional Twana story retold by CoyoteCooks

Yesterday when I was taking the dog to do her business, she ran back over to a rotting bird carcass I had yelled at her about the day before.She ran up a vet bill for over $200 a couple of weeks ago for eating things she shouldn’t.  This time she not only ignored me shouting at her to leave it alone, but ran off with it in her mouth to wolf it down.

 Why did Dog choose Dukwaps?

  For all the years I lived in Seattle, I always tried to grow basil on my windowsill.  This resulted in a few scrawny stalks and tiny leaves for a few weeks which then broke out in mites and then ladybugs who swooped in for the mites.  I always enjoyed the ladybugs. 

 Imagine my delight to move to Arizona and discovering how much basil loves the constant sun as long as I water constantly.  I enjoy going out nearly every afternoon as I prepare dinner and harvesting not only fresh basil, but fresh mint from the abundance that spills over its pot.  The  basil and mint plucked from a few feet away on the patio combine nicely with fresh cilantro in a tasty mixed greens  salad and dressed with various vinaigrettes.  For an extra kick, I’ll add in some crumbled feta.  I’ve also discovered a stilton and apricot cheese at Trader Joe’s that is a great addition to the salad.  This trio also rocks when I toss in some bean sprouts and garlic while  making spring rolls as long as I add some shrimp or pork.

For a recent dinner, someone else took over duties and enjoyed being creative with the salmon and the fresh basil and additional herbs.  When the red onion he was cutting up unexpectedly fell apart,  he was inspired to take the slices and to place them in what he called “gills” but I thought looked more like the design of scales.  It looked so good I decided to take a photo before grilling it.  I’m happy to say it tasted as good as it looked.  Lately I’ve been using a marinade of honey whisked with a berry (blue/rasp) vinaigrette that does well under the broiler…a sweeter taste than the citrus combination  that’s my old reliable.

 While I love basil, I had never really spent much time looking into its origin, other than knowing it isn’t Native American.  We have a Native mint, which in Sahaptin is called shuka-shuka and is used in making tea–the scientific name is Clinopodium douglasii.  Mint and Basil are related.  The word Basil comes from the Greek basileus and it means “royal” or “king” and some have suggested it was often used in preparations for the nobility.  It’s also called the “king of the herbs.”   Although in the states we associate it with Mediterranean cooking, it appears to have come from the Iran/Indian area of southern Asia, where it’s been grown for over 5,000 years.

 Now excuse me, I have to check on the dog to make certain she isn’t being dukwaps…

The Origin of the Bear Clan

 Long time ago, the daughter of a chief was warned by her elders to be careful as she went to pick berries, because many bears were around. She went out anyway, and as she drew near the berry bushes, she stepped into bear dung.

 

 

Upset, she cursed the bears, as she tried to clean herself. Bear people emerged from the woods and abducted her. Inside their cave, she sat sadly in a corner, until a tiny thin voice spoke to her and she looked into the bright wise eyes of Grandmother Mouse.

“Tell them they must take you out to relieve yourself–and that as a proper person, you must do this in privacy.” Then Grandmother Mouse touched the gleaming copper bracelets that the young woman wore, indicating her high-class status. “Take off your bracelets and break them into small pieces and leave them on the ground.” Traditionally, copper was very valued by Native people…it is the one of the only metals that can be used directly from the ground without smelting.

When the young woman did as she was instructed, the Bear people inspected where she had gone to relieve herself and whispered to one another. “No wonder she complains of our dung. She is so high-class that she shits copper!”

Impressed, they informed the Bear Chief, who married the young woman, and thus the Bear Clan was begun. 

 

 

 

 

 

—A Traditional Twana legend, retold by CoyoteCooks

There are many variations of this story throughout the Pacific Northwest, and a number of artists seem to take a great deal of enjoyment depicting the Bear Chief’s wife breast feeding her children, always shown in the form of cubs.  There’s an obvious concern about what happens when her babies start cutting their teeth… Here’s an example from the great Bill Reid. For those of you not that familiar with a number of Native traditions, during the time of legends, physical forms were more fluid than they are today, and individuals could often switch back and forth between an animal shape and a more human one.  For this reasons, it’s said the Bear People wore robes of bear skin, and upon removing them, looked like human people.  Some stories say that when the twin sons of the Bear Chief and his wife grew up, they put aside their bear skin robes and became famous hunters.

I had a request to do my “standard” acorn squash—which in my household means slicing one in half, scooping out the seeds and pulp, then plopping the halves like green bowls inside a shallow baking dish.  A pat of butter in each, then a sprinkle of garlic powder, ground pepper and a pinch of salt—and all I need is an hour or so in the oven at 400 degrees. I should warn readers that after moving into a new condo and confronting a very old oven…I hesitate giving an exact time and temperature.  I mean, in my years of cooking experience, I really don’t think a chicken should take more than 3 hours at 400 degrees to roast the way it went last Sunday.  I’m happy to report I have a new gas oven in the kitchen now, making things much more predictable.

I’ve written before about squash being Native American in origin–but I enjoy introducing Native foods to “new comers” to Turtle Island.  For example the gabanzo bean, or the chickpea…is thought to have originated many thousands of years ago in Turkey.  “According to recent studies, the domesticated form of chickpea contains nearly twice the tryptophan of the wild form, an amino acid that has been connected with higher brain serotonin concentrations and higher birth rates and accelerated growth in humans and animals.” http://archaeology.about.com/od/domestications/qt/chickpeas.htm

So–a healthy addition to the acorn squash…

But frankly, I sometimes get bored doing the basics, so I thought I’d try something a bit different.  I took garbanzo beans, straight from the can.  I placed them into a plastic baggie and poured in enough olive oil to coat them, along with a couple of tablespoons of balsamic vinegar.  I then spread them out on a cookie sheet (well, on top of aluminum foil on the cookie sheet, making clean up a lot easier), and topped them off with pepper and salt, putting them into the 400 degree oven for at least 30 minutes.  If your oven is better than my old one, you’ll know they’re done when they’re nice and crunchy. When the acorn squash was ready to be served, I then added the roasted garbanzo beans in the acorn half.  I felt the spicy crispness of the garbanzo beans gave a good texture contrast to the savory softness of the squash.  I’m also thinking about doing another batch of the roasted garbanzo beans and tossing them into a salad for some extra crunch.

Origin of the Butterfly

Long and long ago, there were two caterpillar people who loved each other very much, but as with all living things,  one of them died. The caterpillar woman mourned the loss of her husband. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want to be around anyone. She wrapped her sorrow around her like it was a shawl and began walking. All the time she was walking, she was crying. For twelve moons (one year) she walked, and because the world is a circle, she returned to where she had started. The Creator took pity on her and told her, “You’ve suffered too long. Now’s the time to step into a new world of color — a new world of beauty.” The Creator clapped hands twice, and she burst forth as the butterfly. Just so, for many Native people, the butterfly is the symbol for everlasting life and renewal.

A traditional Sahaptin story retold by Coyote Cooks

Just as life repeats art, this legend sets a pattern the Sahaptin people use in accepting the loss of a loved one.

By the way, writing about the Butterfly legend was actually the first “official” (i.e., academic) publication I ever did, through the University of Manitoba Medical Journal.  My mentor, Carolyn Atteneave, recommended me to take over her obligation to submit an article.  Since then, I’ve tried to support her effort by asking others to work with me in publishing something professionally for periodicals, or textbooks.

 When a family member dies, a Palaxsiks is held.  The mourning ceremony of the Palaxsiks follows the “map” of this legend.   After the body has been buried, the surviving spouse, usually within a week of the burial, will be stripped of his/her regular clothing behind a blanket screen. Relatives from one side of the family have brought new clothes of dark colors that are used to dress the widow/widower. This indicates the cocoon stage. The hair is cut. But since hair continues to grow, and at one point, will return to its original length, this represents the psychological and spiritual healing that is taking place internally. Incidentally, the cut hair and the dark clothing also serve to mark an individual in the mourning process, so community members can acknowledge this and act accordingly. However, when a non-Native client begins therapy, a provider will have no way of knowing if the client is experiencing bereavement until a history is taken, and even then it may not come up immediately.

At the end of one year, there is a closure ceremony where the family members who received the clothes during the first ceremony bring new clothes of bright colors to dress the widow/widower. The bright colors represent the wings of the butterfly and also signify that the time of bereavement is over, and the individual is freed of the restrictions of the previous year.  For example, when in mourning, an individual is not permitted to take part in social dancing.  After the end of the year’s observance, the headstone for the dead is usually placed.

Community members are exposed to the story throughout the year.  Like many tribal nations, Sahaptin reservations will have dances that are considered “theirs” apart from the conventional “powwow” style competitive dancing that is acknowledged as “outside” and brought back during World War II where they were shared by Native soldiers from Oklahoma.  Just so, one such traditional dance is the “wilik wilik waashasha,” or Butterfly Dance.  It is performed by adolescent females who line up single file.  They pull their colorful fringed shawls over and begin to cry out loud as they walk in a circle. Again, this represents the cocoon.  The head drummer carefully watches, and when the lead dancer completes a circle, he or she will strike the drum twice.  This is signal for the dancers to spread their shawls across their shoulders.  They then begin a skipping dance as the song’s rhythm changes from its mournful march to a bright pattern.  The legend is normally told as part of the performance.  Just so, community members grow up hearing the legend told repeatedly, even when there are no deaths to be observed.  As a result, the knowledge of how to properly mourn is passed on so when a family must deal with death, the members know how to do so.

After the Palaxsiks is performed, a feast is provided to those who attend.  Over the years (in my experience) as more and more Latinos have come into the pacific northwest as migrant workers and intermarried with Native people, it’s now common for tamales to be served, along with more traditional foods, such as salmon or deer meat.

Cooking for someone you love is, from a Native American experience, a sacred process. I believe I mentioned in an earlier post, the closest to “home style” canned salmon I’ve found is at WholeFoods—Copper River Salmon.  I’ve also used leftover salmon I’ve baked, but the slightly smoky flavor really compliments alfredo sauce.  In full disclosure, I should point out I’ve never been served smoked salmon alfredo on the reservation, even at the luxury resort.  Here’s a quick and easy recipe.  Take about 8 ounces of fettuccine pasta that you place in boiling water for about 12 minutes or so, checking to see if it’s al dente, and then drain it.  In a sauce pan, plops a stick of butter along with a couple of chopped garlic cloves, browning the garlic to fully release its flavor.  Blend in a cup of heavy cream, along with a few sprinkles of black pepper.  Mix in a tablespoon of flour to help thicken the sauce and then gradually add a cup of grated Parmesan.  Crumble 8 ounces of salmon, along with a couple of spoonfuls of capers.  If you like, you can also toss in a cup of fresh spinach.  I always keep fresh basil in my garden to add another level of flavor.   Stir it all together for 3-5 minutes, until everything is fully heated and toss with the pasta.  We also enjoy an artisan crusty bread with a splash of balsamic vinegar and olive oil as a side…it’s great to dip into the sauce.

Why Bluejay Hops…

One of the last times I heard my relative Sobiyax (Bruce Miller) tell a story was at a conference in Las Vegas. He was in a wheelchair and looked frail.  I still thought of him as being so large and strong.  He had once punched out a horse.  He broke his hand.  When our van was blocked by a car that had parked too close, he managed to push it so hard, it tipped enough for us to back out. 

Diabetes had taken away one of his legs; a stroke would take his life a few months later.  At the conference, Sobiyax told the Twana story of “Why Blue Jay Hops.”

 

 

Long ago, long before the coming of the Great Flood, Blue Jay was hungry.  He was excited to hear Bear inviting people to his Longhouse for a feast.

 image courtesy of haidaheritagecentre.com

The food was placed in the proper ceremonial way, but there was no oil.  Now in those days, one would dip one’s food in oil, much the way today you might spread butter on your bread, or put dressing on your salad.

When the people saw there was no oil, they started to mutter, “Why Bear doesn’t even know how to give a feast!” 

Another commented, “No Oil! How Rude.  We should just go home.”

 

Bear heard what they said, and laughed.  “You want oil?” he called out.  “I’ll give you oil!”  And he danced out to the middle of his Longhouse where the fire was burning and the salmon was roasting.

He sang his Song and as he sang he rubbed his hands together.  Now bears have a lot of fat underneath their skin, and the heat of the fire started to make the fat melt, and it dripped out in the form of oil.  This was caught by his relatives in a large wooden bowl and passed around to his guests.

Someone was watching this and that someone was Blue Jay.  He envied the Power and magic of Bear.  Before the people left, Blue Jay called out, saying, “Next full moon, I invite all of you to my Longhouse for a feast!”

The following moon, the people gathered at the home of Blue Jay.  Once again, they were shocked to see there was no oil. 

“Blue Jay doesn’t even know how to give a feast!” 

“How rude!  No oil!  We should just go home.”

            Blue Jay laughed and shouted, “You want oil?  I’ll give you oil!”  And he danced out to the middle of his Longhouse, where the fire was burning.  He sang the Song of Bear, and began to rub his hands – really his feet – together over the fire in the manner of Bear.

            Now our Old People teach us that everyone has a Song. Part becoming an adult is learning what your Song is, so you can become all that you can be.  A Song can be given; a Song can be shared.  But a Song must never be stolen.

Someone was watching.  And that someone was the Creator.  The Creator was so angry, He made the fire jump up and it burned Blue Jay’s feet.  And that’s why even today when you see a Blue Jay, his feet are dark and twisted, as though they’ve been burned in a fire.

image courtesy of v4vodk    A Blue Jay can’t walk like a normal bird.  He can only hop.  Even today, Old People will say, “He hops like a Jay,” which means the person they’re talking about is a thief.

The Trickster best known to non-Natives is Coyote, but if you continue further up in the Pacific Northwest, Native people will tell Raven stories that sound very similar to those of Coyote. Among some of the Native communities in between, the stories will focus on Blue Jay, and the Winter Spirit Dances are sometimes called Blue Jay Dances.  In one story, Blue Jay rescues light, but in doing so, a door slams shut on his poor head, resulting in its odd flattened shape.

 image courtesy of vidterry

A resource I would suggest, not only for Native American material, is the NPR program, Sound & Spirit. Fantasy writer Ellen Kushner is the host and co-producer, and the program frequently features mythological themes. Click here (http://www.wgbh.org/programs/programDetail.cfm?programid=226) and then scroll down through the archived programs to discover a terrific show on Tricksters, as well as one on Native Americans, and yet another on Storytelling.

If you are looking for some written Native American resources, you might try a curriculum (http://www.nps.gov/archive/nepe/Education/SCHOOL2Aa_files/Education%20Guide.htm) created for the U.S. National Park Service.  In a number of Parks, staff will do “interpretive” work interacting with visitors, particularly children.

            One of my relatives, Elaine (“Choppie”) Miles, used to work summers portraying Sacajawea.  She became better known a few years later on the television program, Northern Exposure, playing the nurse, Marilyn. 

And finally—you might enjoy reading the words of Sobiyax, discussing ecology and the story of trees… http://www.salmonnation.com/voices/bruce_miller.html

 

As for this post’s recipe, I would suggest a tasty smoked salmon spread.  Sobiyax was very fond of this and would often sit watching television while sharing a version of this with friends and relatives, usually dipping into it with potato chips.  I’ve also used it as a sandwich spread with various other items.

Take about ¼ cup of mayonnaise or miracle whip—oh, who am I kidding…use real mayonnaise…the salmon deserves it.  Mix in at least 6 ounces of Smoked Salmon.  For me, canned Smoked Salmon was always “handmade.”  Sobiyax and others would work hard putting away dozens of jars to use through the year.  When I was teaching ethnic cooking, I would suggest Whole Foods, which carries small jars of Copper River Smoked Salmon  This  is about the closest I’ve been able to find commercially to what I would enjoy on the reservation.  Again—we live in the age of internet shopping, so I’m sure you can easily track Smoked Salmon down.  Squeeze in about a teaspoon of lemon juice.  I also sprinkle in a few drops of Frank’s Red Hot, but hey—I was shaped by years in the American Southwest.  Add a teaspoon of diced garlic, and mix in about as much Parmesan cheese (the canned stuff will do) as you did the mayonnaise.                                                                                                                  image courtesy of baconsaltblog.com If it’s a little too thick, you can add a splash of heavy cream, although I suspect Sobiyax would have just added some more mayo.  Blend or mix it up – and as I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I’m not a big fan of smoothing everything out.  I much prefer to see (and taste) chunks of the Smoked Salmon rather than having it all come out to the consistency of cream cheese.

American Indian Storytelling–How Daylight Came To Be: Ant and Bear

<meta name="google-site-verification" content="EJL0jt83vkSM3ByoSicwfDy3sYsFknBSbEr1kHh15TA" />American Indian Storytelling–How Daylight Came To Be:

Long, long ago, so long ago, there was no light, there was only darkness.  In those days, the Ant people worked very hard.  But sometimes they would go looking for food, and could not find their way home again.

 Sometimes, they would hear heavy footsteps, and a monster would reach into their homes and steal and eat their babies, disappearing into the darkness again.

 

This monster was Tsimox, the Grizzly Bear.  Even now, bears will sometimes dig up the nests of ants to eat their larvae.

 

There was one person, Ant Woman, who was smarter than all the rest.  “If we had light, we could see to work.  We could find our way home.  We could watch for the monster Bear, who steals our children.”

Ant Woman decided to go to the house of the Creator, and ask for light on behalf of her people.  It was a long and dangerous journey.  She did not know it, but Bear followed her, to see what she would do.

“Oh, Creator,” she said, “give my people light, so we can see and work…”

But before she could finish speaking, Bear stepped in front of her, saying, “Don’t listen to her!  Don’t give this little bug person what she wants!  I want it to always be dark so I can sleep and be cool!”

The Creator replied, “There will be a contest—a dance contest—and the winner will get his or her desire.”

This was the very first Powwow, when people came together to compete in dance.  Just as now, people came from the four directions to see the dancing.  They brought all sorts of food to share with one another.

As soon as Bear saw all the different types of food, he became very excited and began to eat.

But little Ant Woman fasted.  She concentrated on praying on behalf of her people.  She pulled her belt tight around her waist, so she would not feel hungry.  Finally it came time for them to compete.

She stood up, and told the people, “I am Ant Woman—I dance for light!”  And then she did a fast dance, pulling her belt tighter and tighter.

When she had finished, Bear stood up and wiped the crumbs from his lips, saying, “I am Bear—I dance for night!”  Then he did his slow and lumbering dance.  When he had finished, he went back to eating.

For what we would now call four days and four nights they danced against each other.  Ant Woman did not eat during this time, continuing to fast and pray.  She pulled her belt tighter and tighter.

Bear stood up to dance against her, but he was now so fat and full, he could hardly move.  He was so tired and sleepy…  “I am Bear…I dance for…” and then he fell asleep right in the middle of his dance.  He began to snore loudly.

“Little Ant has won,” said the Creator, “but both the Ant and Bear are my children and I love them both.  For that reason I will give them both what they wish for—daylight for the Ant People so they can see and work, and night time for the Bear, so he can sleep and be cool.”

And so it is today we have day and night because of the wonderful little Ant Woman.  And if you see an ant today, you’ll notice she still has a tiny waist, so you know this story is true.  In the Twana language, the name for ant is “tlatlusid” which means “tied or cinched at the waist.”

A Twana story, retold by CoyoteCooks

This is a lovely little story that has a lot of memories for me.  Many years ago, several of us were involved with something called the Indian Readers Series, which was a project out of the NW Regional Educational Laboratory.  A number of American Indian reservations in the Pacific NW designated American Indian storytellers and artists to put some of their traditional legends into booklets that were geared to the reading levels of various grades.  My major objection to this was the fact the oral comprehension level of young children will be higher than their reading comprehension.  As a result, this story, which was retold and illustrated by my relative, Bruce Miller, had to be restructured to a Kindergarten reading level, which lost a lot of its intricacy.  I did the illustrations for a couple of other books in the series. I had always wished the laboratory had made audio recordings to supplement the material designed for the lower reading levels.

At one point, a dear friend of mine, Vi Hilbert, was doing American Indian storytelling demonstrations in her Native language of lushootseed. She saw me in the audience, and asked if I would come up and help her tell the story with her son, Ron.

If you are more familiar with NW culture, the story then carries many more layers of meaning.  One of the most important elements of the tradition among the Salish people is the Winter Spirit Dance, which incorporates the Vision Quest familiar to a number of Native Nations.  This can then be understood as part of what Ant Woman is doing…her focus on prayer and fasting.  In a number of Native communities, there is also the tradition of asking something from the Creator (health and recovery for a beloved, or in Ant Woman’s example—help for her community) and an offer to give something of oneself.  In the initiation process, it is not unusual for the person undergoing the ceremony to have a woven woolen sash or belt that is tied around the waist.  When the person ceremonially dances, he or she will often have helpers who will hold on to the belt and pull against it, helping to strengthen the dancer.  The initiation process, at least the Vision Quest aspect of it, often lasts for four days, although there are other legends and teachings about how someone may have one last much longer, or for a shorter period.

Different Nations have different versions of this legend.  My Aunt used to tell the Sahaptin version, where it wasn’t only Ant and Bear who danced—it was several different animals, each hoping for something special.  For example, Rabbit danced so it would always be springtime, so he would have tender green things to eat.  He lost the contest, but the old people say that you can still hear rabbit thumping on the ground—which means he’s practicing his dance, so next time he’ll win.

Just so, Ant Woman didn’t dance by herself, but with her relatives—the other insects with small waists, like the Wasp.

In thinking up a recipe to go with this story, I thought about what sort of things Bear might eat in the story, but I decided a recipe for insect larvae wouldn’t be a big hit for a lot of readers…

Thinking about so many special people in my life who have crossed over—Bruce, Vi, my Aunt Beans, I also thought about Roberta Wilson, a Lakota woman I met when I started graduate school.  One Saturday in her kitchen, she showed me how to make what she called wojapi in the Lakota language.  It’s a type of berry “pudding” that she would use on fry bread.  It’s a very simple recipe, but takes a bit to simmer down to intensify the flavor.

While traditionally it can be made with dried fruit—like dried chokecherries, because of Roberta, I’ve always associated it with freshly picked berries.  I prefer huckleberries, but I’ve also make it with blueberries.  You can experiment with what you have available.  Nowadays with so many frozen berry choices so easy to find at your local grocery store, you can discover what you enjoy the most.

One of the realities of being shown how to do something is that there really aren’t measurements, since amounts will vary according to how many berries you have, or how much wojapi you want to make.  Because there are no preservatives, I normally make wojapi in small amounts, with the expectation it will be used up in a day or two.  I’ve never tried freezing it.

Basically, the recipe consists of taking the amount of berries you want to use—a few handfuls of berries are what I will usually throw into a bowl.  I’ll mash them up with a potato masher, but I try to keep the mixture chunky, so I don’t do it too thoroughly.  Some wojapi makers prefer theirs to be smoother.  I then cover up the berries in a small sauce pan with water and start to simmer the mixture.  If the berries are sweet enough, I don’t feel a need to add sweetener to them.  Others may add honey or sugar to taste. 

Reducing the mixture down can be enough, but Roberta preferred to use flour to thicken it.  Personally, I tend to use arrowroot or cornstarch for thickening.  If you do too, make sure you mix the thickening agent separately into cold water and then when it’s smooth, add it to the simmering berry mixture.  If you add it in directly, it’s hard to keep lumps out.  For the small amount I make, I will rarely use more than a teaspoon of thickening agent. If it’s still not the consistency I want, I’ll add in a little more of the arrowroot or cornstarch.  If you put in too much, you can add additional water to thin it, until you finally get the balance you’re wanting.  When I get it just right, then I’ll take it off the stove and let it cool, although depending on who was watching me make it, it might not have much of a chance to cool before it was being spread on fry bread, or whatever carbs were at hand.  It also makes an excellent topping for ice cream.  I’m sure Bear would approve…

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.