‘MY CULTURE IS YOURS’
Cree chef charts unique Indigenous culinary styles in new cookbook
A stockpot steams on Nisga’a Elder Winnie Doolan’s stovetop. Within it, cubes of seal meat, carrot, celery, onion and potato simmer, seasoned simply with salt and pepper.
In Gingolx, an Indigenous fishing village in Northern B.C.’S Nass River valley, the sea has provided for generations: Locals harvest crab, halibut, salmon, shellfish and snapper as well as seal, which they use to the fullest.
Enoch Cree chef Shane M. Chartrand follows Doolan’s instruction as he helps prepare the seal meat stew, the recipe for which she learned from her mother: “Anything we do is handed down from my parents.”
The cooking session took place when Chartrand was in Prince Rupert filming an episode of Red Chef Revival, a six-part docuseries focusing on modern Indigenous cuisines.
“We’re not taught to do things like this in culinary school,” he tells Doolan of the boiling method. “It means something.”
As she separates the stew, serving the broth in a small bowl, the meat and vegetables on a plate, he makes a sure pronouncement: “That is an Indigenous dinner.”
Chartrand recounts the experience in a phone interview, emphasizing the sustainability of seal meat and the immense importance it holds for the coastal community, simultaneously highlighting the chasm between the meal he had in Gingolx and the “carnival food” sometimes associated with Indigenous cuisines.
“I’m not against fry bread. I’m not against Indian tacos. I can’t be against it when it’s been a part of our culture for so, so, so long,” he says. “Who am I to tell the entire country of Canada that bannock, fry bread and Indian tacos are not us? I just think we need to dig way, way, way deeper … There’s a lot more to life and there’s a lot more to this land.”
For the past 15 years, after learning he was originally from the Enoch Cree Nation in central Alberta after being taken from his biological parents during the Sixties Scoop, Chartrand has made it his mission to not just learn more about his home nation, but others as well. This undertaking provided the inspiration for his debut cookbook, Tawâw (House of Anansi, 2019; with Jennifer Cockrall-king).
He describes his style of cooking as “progressive” and dynamic.
“It’s always moving, whether that be talking about me maybe reinventing some old Indigenous dishes or taking what I’ve learned from these nations and building dishes that I like,” he says.
“There are so many ways of looking at things but, to me, progressive means ever-changing.”
Despite the proximity of reserves to cities and towns across the country, few Canadians have ever spent time on one. (Nearly 40 per cent of us have never visited a reserve, according to a 2018 survey.)
“Most people who live close to a reserve know nothing about it,” says Chartrand. “We all have different protocols, and we all have different food symposiums and belief systems.” He adds his intent with the book was to give readers “a small little glimpse of who we are as people.”
The meaning of tawâw (a Cree word, pronounced TA-WOW) — there is room, you are welcome — is a further expression of this sentiment, says Chartrand. “You are welcome to be with me any time. My home is yours. My friendship is yours. My culture is yours.” Recipes from Tawâw: Progressive Indigenous Cuisine, by Shane M. Chartrand and Jennifer Cockrall-king with permission from House of Anansi Press.