This chef wants to feed your mind, too
Outdoor dining series shows complexity, range of Indigenous cuisine
When chef Rich Francis received his blubber after the beluga was caught in the waters of the Northwest Territories two days earlier, he sliced it using an ulu, an all-purpose knife with a curved blade.
He was testing out maaktaq, a common Inuit dish of whale skin and fat, for an upcoming dinner. It’s commonly eaten raw and frozen, though it’s also eaten other ways such as fried, pickled or fermented.
“I had to learn how to prepare it traditionally and a lot of these original recipes were meant for survival,” he says over the phone from his home in the Six Nations of the Grand River, a reserve southwest of Hamilton. Francis, a former “Top Chef Canada” finalist, is preparing for his first dinner as part of an outdoor, socially distanced dining experience called Seventh Fire being held at the reserve this week.
Rather than fermented maaktaq, the chef plans on grilling it on cedar skewers and brushing it with a glaze made from rhubarb and bear roots, a sweet root that grows in the north and is consumed by the Gwich’in. Francis’s father is Tetlit Gwich’in from the Northwest Territories (where Francis was born) and his mother is Haudenosaunee from Six Nations.
With June having been National Indigenous History Month and Canada Day this week, along with discussions of race and systemic oppression at the forefront, it’s time to reflect on the country’s food systems, especially when it comes to Indigenous cooking.
For Francis, his cooking (as well as a new show on APTN) has always doubled as an educational experience. To understand Indigenous cooking is to understand its people, and the trauma and resilience tied to the dishes.
“I want to change the paradigm of what people think of Indigenous food. The food model we have is rooted in colonialism and that’s the system that almost killed us,” he says. “This is a First Nations dining experience. It’s on sovereign, Indigenous land in Six Nations. You’ll see food prior to colonial influence.”
The Seventh Fire dinner, named after the Anishinaabe prophecy of life on Turtle Island, begins on July 4 and is already sold out. But Francis wants to see his dinner series grow, and to work with local Aboriginal tourism boards to accommodate future dinners after the pandemic.
The first dinner will include dishes such as sturgeon from the territorial waters of Kahnawake served in a tortilla made from a Tuscarora white corn, braised moose with roasted Three Sisters ratatouille and a strawberry fry bread tart. He’s also been doing takeout lunch service like musk ox prosciutto with peach, burrata and wild raspberries as well as smoked deer ribs. Details of upcoming dinners and takeout lunches are on his Instagram account: @rfcuisine.
Traditional foods, whether hunted, foraged or grown, are essential for survival, community-building and knowledge to be passed down. But some of these traditional foods, such as moose and beluga, are illegal to serve in a restaurant as Ontario prohibits the commercial sale of hunted game meat (that bison burger served at a Toronto restaurant most definitely comes from a farm).
Francis says he is able to work outside provincial rules by cooking on the reserve. “We’re forming relationships with hunters and gatherers all over Turtle Island to have their products in our dining experience,” he says.
It’s not just sourcing their own food that remains a challenge, it’s also the cost of food staples in the North. Grocery store prices in Nunavut are almost three times the national average, leading to health issues such as obesity and diabetes, as fresh and healthy food is out of reach. Indigenous communities are also more likely to experience food insecurity than their non-Indigenous counterparts.
“All these systems weren’t meant to benefit Indigenous people,” Francis says.
Afew chefs have educated diners about regional Indigenous cooking in Toronto over the years. Chef Joseph Shawana served seal at his now closed Ku-Kum Kitchen on Mount Pleasant; chef Aaron Joseph Bear Robe had Keriwa Café in Parkdale and chef Shawn Adler is still behind Pow Wow Café in Kensington Market (his new series “Forage” premieres on CBC Gem July 3). Chef Johl Whiteduck Ringuette closed Nishdish due to COVID-19, but currently has a GoFundMe in hopes of raising enough money to continue as a catering operation.
To cook Indigenous food is an act of defiance and resilience, says Francis, as is existing in a food system that tried to remove Indigenous populations from their sustainable agriculture and food traditions. He’s among the chefs who say Indigenous cooking is deeply tied to food sovereignty, the idea that people have the right to healthy and culturally appropriate food that’s grown and harvested in a sustainable way.
Francis explores more of this in his upcoming show, “Wild Game,” slated to debut this fall on APTN (an exact air date has yet to be announced). The series, filmed last year, explores the regional culinary differences between Indigenous groups and how the food is influenced by different eras, such as preand post-contact with settlers, pre- and post-residential schools, modern day and its future.
“I think we’re just starting to understand it, including myself. When you look at Indigenous food you also have to look at language. That food knowledge is with the elders who speak the language, which is why there’s such an urgency to listen to them. You can’t find these recipes in a book, it’s all through storytelling,” he says.
“Doing these shoots were really difficult. A lot of the elders are residential school survivors and these stories are what modern Indigenous cuisines use as a tool to continue something that would otherwise be forgotten. It’s very heavy sometimes and you carry that on through intergenerational trauma.”
It’s why Francis has complicated feelings about one of the most widely known Indigenous foods: bannock. The history of the flour-based flatbread is tied to the arrival of Scottish fur traders, government rations, and the onset of diabetes and obesity within the community. However, it’s also now considered a staple at gatherings and a source of comfort for others.
“At times I’ve come down hard on bannock, but it’s also very political as a symbol of resilience and survival. It has a power behind it,” he says.
Besides having better knowledge of Indigenous cooking, it’s also important for diners to rethink how it is framed within the context of Canadian history, says writer Eric Ritskes of the food blog Anise to Za’atar.
“There’s this idea that Indigenous people are recognized as Canada’s first cooks. That’s an erasure of Indigenous sovereignty and a normalization that Canada as a nation has always existed, imposing the idea that there was nothing here before Canada showed up,” says Ritskes, who previously edited an online academic journal focused on eliminating colonial gatekeeping in academia.
He says it’s important to remember that ingredients synonymous with Canada, be they salmon, Saskatoon berries or maple syrup, were first used long before Confederation and continue to be an important part of Indigenous cuisine.
For Francis, it’s a long road to learn the complexities of Indigenous food, but he also hopes diners will look at the issues of food insecurity and food sovereignty to reshape what they think they know about the cuisine.
“We’ve all reached the threshold where we’re all looking for a different narrative,” says Francis.
“There is no exception. I’m cooking for a better understanding.”