North American fall is my absolute favorite time of year. The leaves turn a glorious spectrum of reds, oranges, and yellows and dance down from the trees in a choreography of crisp, fluttering magic. The rustle of the wind and crackling bonfires, the tannin smell of the world going to sleep, the spicy ciders and pumpkin pies make for the greatest of sensory delights. It’s an ambience that I have missed dearly since moving to the south of Spain.
Of course, along with this season of camping, rolling in leaf piles, and LARP fairs comes my favorite holiday—Thanksgiving. The story we learn as children is that the Pilgrims arrived in New England in November of 1620, too late to enact an agricultural plan and, unfamiliar with the landscape and the range of edible autochthonous plants in this New World, they would have starved were it not for the generosity of the Wampanoag people. The traditional Canadian story took place half a century prior in the harsh, northern province of Nunavut. Sailors, plagued by ice and storms, held a communion to thank God upon the safe arrival of the few ships that survived the voyage. In both cases, the holiday celebrates the gratitude of the travelers after suffering the hardships of the journey, exemplifying the bounty of an American harvest and a time for repose and appreciation for what we have in the face of the struggles we may otherwise be facing.
While many families use this time to thank God for the things they hold dear, I prefer to remove religion from my own celebration, as this God was not common to all the communities involved. Thanksgiving is a tradition bathed in controversy surrounding the historic treatment of indigenous peoples. I grew up on the American east coast with a Canadian maternal lineage, learning about the oppression of indigenous people and the promises and treaties that were left disregarded by the migrating European forces. Along with the racial dominance of Europeans in America came the erasure of cultural knowledge and traditions that communities, like the Wampanoag or Inuit, had developed over generations regarding the land and what it offered them.
In my own practice, I prefer to celebrate the bounty of the unique indigenous North American landscape, attempting to bring to the forefront the plethora of important information about our region that has been diluted with the decimation of this indigenous consciousness. On my table, there’s always a perfectly juicy turkey with crisped skin, accompanied by gravy made from the drippings and a lightly sweetened cranberry sauce. I love putting out wild rice dishes garnished with seeds, herbs, and fruit, a platter of roasted sweet potatoes, and of course, the three sisters—corn, beans, and squash. For dessert (if there’s any room left for it!), pumpkin pie is always a staple, and sometimes Indian pudding—a spiced cornmeal dish born of the English pudding tradition and sweetened with maple syrup or molasses.
However, these are the most basic staples of American and Canadian Thanksgiving. There are so many more ingredients native to the North American continent that are almost never taken advantage of in our society. Cooking and learning about different cultures are two of my passions, and I think that highlighting indigenous dishes is an effective start to piquing the interest of these now-minority cultures to those who are unfamiliar with this indigenous way of life, one that has been overshadowed in the global context by colonial interests in the past few centuries.
Sean Sherman, a member of the Sioux nation and a chef specializing in indigenous cuisine, is an activist who aims to bring these ancient North American culinary traditions to the public eye. He has founded the NāTIFS (North American Traditional Indigenous Food Systems) organization to raise consciousness about the bounty of the North American landscape and how to utilize its resources to create gastronomic masterpieces that have largely been ignored by the dominant American culture. The organization helps to train those who are interested about how to forage in their region, which ingredients are edible, and how to prepare them in traditional ways. It is a means of making sure that this ancient knowledge is not lost, and it helps communities become more self-reliant if they ever face an event of food scarcity.
So, keep the traditions and knowledge alive, celebrate regional foods, share your culinary delights with friends and family on this cozy holiday, and do not forget to appreciate and give thanks, to whichever power you believe in, for the privileges you have in life. I’ve never failed to celebrate a single Thanksgiving Day, and I hope you all can be inspired to try it, yourselves!
