Food

Lake Superior Skink Soup

/ mariezhuikov / 15 Comments
Cullen Skink soup, homemade bread and tea served at the Laird’s Kitchen in Delgatie Castle (2016).

I know what you’re thinking – that is an unappetizing name for a soup! But there’s a reason behind it.

Back in 2016, when my friend Sharon and I traveled to Scotland, we became acquainted with Scotland’s version of chowder, thanks to some friendly people in a café in Gardenstown. The soup is called Cullen Skink and they said the best place to find it was Delgatie Castle, which was not too far away.

We took them up on the advice and ate lunch at the café in the basement and then toured the pinkish castle. We tried the soup, which is made with smoked haddock, potatoes, and onions – thus, a very white dish. It was served with homemade white bread slathered with butter. More whiteness!

Delgatie Castle, Scotland, where I had my first Cullen Skink.

The soup was very creamy and good. I am a chowderholic, so I loved it. The café is also known for its scones, which were lovely. The soup was invented in the Scottish town of Cullen. It was created from deprivation and want. The skink part of the name is usually reserved for soups in Scotland with ingredients like a shank of beef or ham. Having none of these on hand, smoked fish was used instead, but the name of “skink” stuck to it.

Cullen Skink has been described by The Guardian newspaper as “smokier and more assertive than American chowder, heartier than classical French bisque.” I agree.

The Scottish are proud of their skink, holding an annual Cullen Skink World Championships competition. The most recent event was just a couple of weeks ago in a hotel in Aberlour.

Kellie Spooner, excited winner of the 2024 Cullen Skink World Championships. Image courtesy of NE Scotland BBC.

During our trip, Sharon found a recipe in a travel guide and took a photo of it. I recently came across the image and decided to follow up on my long-ago plans to make the soup at home. The only problem is that smoked haddock is impossible to find in my neck of the woods. So, true to the original nature of Cullen Skink, I had to make do with what was at hand, and that was a Lake Superior smoked whitefish.

To make the soup even more white, I substituted white pepper for black pepper. For the milk, I used Carnation brand evaporated milk because it was on sale. But I had forgotten I can’t have it due to my intolerance to corn and any ingredients derived from corn. Carnation contains dextrose, which is derived from corn.

I had migraines for two days as I ate the soup and its leftovers, until I figured out the culprit. So, if you have a corn intolerance, keep that in mind! The generic brand of evaporated milk at my store is free of dextrose, so I will use that next time.

If you want to introduce a bit of color into the soup, I suggest using B-sized (new) red potatoes and not peeling them. The parsley also adds color.

I forgot to soak the smoked fish overnight in the milk beforehand, but it still came out tasting great! If you love chowder but are looking for something different, this is the soup for you.

Here’s my version, which I have named Lake Superior Skink to honor the fish from Lake Superior that I used. If you use a local fish species, feel free to call this recipe your own geographic version of skink. For instance, a version containing catfish could be called Mississippi River Skink. Yet another appetizing name!

For a another version of chowder, see my steelhead and clam chowder recipe.

Lake Superior Skink

(Inspired by Scottish Cullen Skink Soup)

Lake Superior Skink with red potatoes

Serves 4, wheat- and corn-free, gluten-free

2 Tablespoons butter
1 onion, diced
2 pints evaporated milk (approx. 3 cans) or whole milk
1-1/2 lbs potatoes, peeled and diced
1 lb smoked Lake Superior whitefish or lake trout
2 teaspoons dried parsley
sea salt and white pepper, to taste
lite sour cream

Soak fish in milk overnight to infuse extra smoky flavor into the broth.

Melt butter in a pan, add the onion and cook gently for 7-8 minutes until it is soft but not browned. Pour in the milk and bring to a simmer. Poach the smoked fish for 3-4 minutes until it is cooked and will flake easily.

Carefully lift the fish out onto a plate and leave it to cool slightly. Add the diced potatoes and simmer for about 20 minutes until soft. Blend some of the potatoes with a stick blender to thicken the soup a little. If you have a regular blender, put about a quarter of the soup into it, blend, then return to the pan.

When the fish is cool enough to handle, break it into flakes, discarding the skin and bones. Return the fish to the pan and stir in the parsley and spices. When serving, add sour cream as desired.

Bog Beauty

/ mariezhuikov / 14 Comments

Bogs get a bad rap. People tend to think they’re just a waste of good land. However, they have a unique beauty, especially when frosted with winter.

This is my favorite bog that I often visit in northern Minnesota. I’ve written about it before. (See Bog Wonder). I recently finished reading “The Good Berry Cookbook” by Tashia Hart. It’s much more than recipes about wild rice. She also describes her relationship to plants and the importance of Manoomin (wild rice) to her Native culture.

One funny story she shared was about spending an hour admiring plants (orchids, Labrador tea, pitcher plants, etc.) in a bog. A car pulled up on the dirt road near the bog and parked. A woman emerged and then, “squinted at me, and began to shout, ‘What are you doing out there!’ It came across as less a question about what I was doing and more a question about my character. ‘Looking at flowers!’ I replied, still crouched low. She stood there for a bit, hands on hips, obviously disturbed, then shook her head and flailed her arms as she stomped back to her vehicle and drove away.”

Tashia mentions that one must be careful not to sink into bogs. Perhaps the woman was concerned for her safety. But Tashia felt safe there. Moose walk on the floating plant masses and seem to do fine. But to be safe, she recommends bringing a friend along.

She offers a recipe for Swamp Tea, made with the Labrador tea plant. I think those reddish masses in my photo are dried up Labrador tea plants. The tea is supposed to lift anxieties and aid creativity.

Sounds good to me. Next time I’m at “my” bog, think I’ll put on my rubber boots or snowshoes, grab Russ, and meander out there to gather some tea leaves. We’ll see if anyone stops and yells at us.

Wild Rice Revisited

/ mariezhuikov / 6 Comments

Not much has been going on lately in my mind or in my personal life, thus the paucity of posts. But I have been blogging for work. I attended a two-day wild rice symposium recently in northern Minnesota and learned all sorts of useful tips for harvesting this wild delicacy. Plus I learned more about efforts to restore it to lakes where it has disappeared. Read more here.

You may recall my recent “immersive experience” into ricing. I heard many similar tales of tipped-over harvesting canoes, so felt in good company.

Gobs of people attended the symposium — well over 200. It was good to see so much interest in the topic!

Last Day at Pictured Rocks: Au Sable Light Station and Luscious Food

/ mariezhuikov / 7 Comments
The Au Sable Light Station.

Rain moved in on our last full day at Pictured Rocks. It foiled our morning plans to hike from our campground (Hurricane River, Lower Loop) to the Au Sable Lighthouse, a 3-mile round trip. But after Russ and I read and were generally slothful, the rain stopped in the afternoon and we were able to hike.

The “trail” to the lighthouse is more like a gravel road. In fact, the park employees who staff it drive on it with their car. It’s mostly level and easy walking along the shore of Lake Superior. Several shipwrecks lie on the beach near the lighthouse, but we couldn’t access them because of the rough waves.

The treacherous sandstone makes up Au Sable Point.

The light station is comprised of a small museum, the lighthouse and keeper’s quarters, a foghorn signal building, two historic outhouses (plus one the public can use), and a small brick oil building.

I’d wanted to visit this particular lighthouse for several years – ever since I discovered it’s the twin of the lighthouse on Outer Island in the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore. I would like to set a novel in the Outer Island lighthouse but was unable to tour inside it, so the Au Sable Light was the next best thing! Tours are offered during the summer for $5.

With its underwater reefs and thick fogs, Au Sable Point is a hazard to Lake Superior mariners. The lighthouse was built in 1874, the same year as the Outer Island Lighthouse. The light tower is 86 feet high. In 1945, the U.S. Coast Guard took over operation, replacing civilian keepers. In 1958, the Coast Guard converted the light station to an automatic, unattended light and discontinued the fog signal. The station became the property of the park service in 1968. The Coast Guard maintains the small LED beacon and solar panel that charges its battery. The park has completed several restoration projects over the years.

The Au Sable Lighthouse as the fog rolled in.

The furnishings inside the lighthouse are not original, but they are of the appropriate time period. The keeper’s quarters consist of a kitchen, dining room, living room, bedroom, work room and several closets. The lighthouse tower can be accessed directly from the living quarters.

The second floor of the keeper’s quarters is much like the first and was built for the assistant keeper’s family. Tours include a trip up the 90 steps to the top of the tower, with its impressive view of Lake Superior and the surrounding forest.

After the tour, Russ and I wandered the grounds (with me taking photos). As we prepared to leave for the hike back to the campground, a fog rolled in, completing the ambiance.

Our evening plans included a drive to Munising to trade in our Spam camping food for more elegant fare. We made reservations at Tracey’s at Roam Inn. It was pricey, but the food was worth it! I had the Lakeshore Pan Roast – a seafood stew made with lobster, whitefish and scallops in reposado cream (made with tequila). Russ had the Grass-Fed Bison Filet Mignon. You can choose three different ways for your meat to be prepared. He chose the “House” method, which involves covering the meat in pepper and serving it with mashed potatoes, birch syrup asparagus, and morel mead cream. If you like pepper, this is the dish for you.

The Lakeshore Pan Roast from Tracey’s Restaurant in Munising, MI.

Both of our meals were luscious and provided the perfect end to a wonderful trip. For dessert, Russ had the chocolate cake (served with raspberry sauce and whipped cream), and I had the crème brulee served with lingonberry sauce and a stroopwafel (a Dutch waffle cookie with caramel filling). This put our meals over the top!

Chocolate cake for dessert.

As we dined, we reflected on our experience. I was tickled by how excited people became from seeing “rocks.” On our sunset cruise, they were taking selfies with the various rock formations as well as cell phone videos to share with friends. Calling the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore “just a bunch of rocks” (like our church friend did) was like calling the Grand Canyon “just a big hole in the ground.”

The next day, we would drive home with our Scamp. But we would do so filled with a new appreciation for an area we had driven past many times but never had time to visit.

The Apostle Supper Club: Love and the 60s

/ mariezhuikov / 15 Comments
The shag carpet wall in The Apostle Supper Club.

Russ and I meandered down to St. Paul for a family gathering a few weeks ago. We brought a gift card with us that my cousin had given me to the Apostle Supper Club. When she had given it to me, Duluth still had an Apostle Supper Club. It used to be in the rotating top of the Radisson Hotel. However, they closed without notice and before we could use the card. We’d been there a couple times before and were looking forward to dining there again. It looked like St. Paul was our only other option.

The Apostle touts itself as “a 1960s Palm Springs-inspired supper club, piano lounge, and tiki bar” located in the heart of St. Paul. It also has a fireplace lounge in the back, which is where we were seated.

The décor is what struck us first – full of 1960s colors of orange, red, brown and yellow. While the front part of the club where the bar is has windows, the rest of the place has the dark, no-window supper club vibe. Cushioned chairs were scattered about and the tables were bedecked with those small lounge lamps. The fireplace lounge sports a freestanding circular yellow-gold fireplace surrounded by matching comfy chairs.

But the best part of the décor was what I found on my way to the bathroom: a wall of shag carpet! Done in yellow, brown, red and orange, of course. I had to run my fingers through it and make sure that Russ saw it before we left. The Duluth restaurant was well-decorated, but it did not have a shag carpet wall.

Our dinner was excellent. For an appetizer, we shared the broiled crab and artichoke dip, which was served with grilled baguette and veggies. We savored those nice big chunks of crab. My main course was red curry striped bass – a pan-seared bass fillet served on a bed of crispy sesame rice with red coconut curry sauce and a radish salad. The fish was cooked just right, with crispy skin and a flakey center. I’m not a big fan of radishes. I couldn’t really tell that the salad had any radishes in it, which was a good thing for me.

The red curry striped bass.

Russ’s entrée was the rigatoni arrabbiata with a spicy roasted tomato sauce, garlic, white wine and whipped basil ricotta. He said the sauce was excellent. You can add various meats to the dish, but Russ was fine without them.

We topped the meal off with espresso crème brulee. I’d never had that particular type of crème brulee before and it was truly memorable – a coffee and cream confection!

During our meal, some hubbub ensued at a table in a dark corner of the fireplace lounge. Two people arrived bearing a dozen roses, which they presented to a woman at the table who had been dining with a man. Then one of the rose-bearers broke out into song. We couldn’t really hear what is was, so we spent some time speculating whether this was a birthday celebration or something more romantic.

Our speculation was put to rest when the man at the table got down on one knee and presented the woman with a ring box. She said, “Yes!”

The proposal, in progress.

I tried to get a photo of this occasion, but alas, the two performers were standing in my way. This was the best I could do.

Russ and I remarked that we seem to attract marriage proposals whenever we go to the Twin Cities. The last one happened at the Como Conservatory when we visited it for a poinsettia show.

If you live in the twin cities and would like to be engaged, Russ and I are available for hire, ha ha!

While we will miss The Apostle in Duluth, we’re glad to know that it’s still done right only a couple of hours away should we have a yearning for a supper club experience.

UPDATE: The Supper Club is closing the end of May 2025. I guess we’ll need to find someplace else for a supper club vibe. 😦

Happy Burbotine’s Day!

/ mariezhuikov / 6 Comments
A giant burbot replica found in the lobby of Duluth’s Great Lakes Aquarium.

My recent post about a trip to a local fish market in Cornucopia, Wisconsin, to buy some burbot piqued readers’ curiosities about its taste and my experience eating this ugly looking fish for the first time. I’m here to say that I survived and that I’m no longer a Burbot Virgin!

The experience is memorialized in “The Fish Dish,” a podcast I co-host for work. We chose a Valentine’s Day theme for the show because Feburary is an important time in the burbot’s life cycle: a time for LOVE.

See photos and hear all about it at this Fish Dish link. And while you’re at it, get your sweetie a card with a big burbot on the front for that special day. Such smooth moves might not work on everyone, but you just never know . . . .

Stabbing the Haggis in Duluth

/ mariezhuikov / 8 Comments
The stabbing of the Haggis.

Long-time readers of my blog may recall that I identify with my Scottish heritage. I had a chance to celebrate that recently by attending Robert Burns Night, which was organized by the Duluth Scottish Heritage Association (DSHA).

Robert Burns is a well-know historic Scottish poet. If you’ve ever sung Auld Lang Syne on New Year’s Eve, you have him to thank. His birthday is recognized on January 25 by Scots, rather in the tradition of Christ’s birth on December 25 by parts of the world, if you’ll permit me a bit of sacrilege.

Scottish dancing lassies doing the sword dance.

The celebration was held at a historic club downtown. This was not my first Robert Burns Night. My mother took me to one held at the university many years ago. Then last year, Russ and I ordered a takeout Robert Burns dinner from the club since there was no gathering due to the pandemic. That “dinner” fed us for four days! It featured neeps and tatties (turnips and potatoes), haggis (more about that later), black pudding (blood sausage), Scotch eggs (hard-boiled eggs wrapped in sausage meat, breaded and fried), and trifle for dessert (a decadent concoction of cake cubes layered between berries, pears, and vanilla pudding mixed with whipped cream).

Attendance was larger than usual for Burns Night this year because it was the first time in three years it had been held in person. One-hundred-and-sixty of us gathered in kilts and clan scarves to listen to bagpipes and watch Scottish dancers.

After that came the formal part of the program, which included 4 toasts of scotch: One to “the immortal memory of Robert Burns,” one to the president, one to the king, and one in Gaelic.

Then came the star of the show, the Haggis. This traditional dish takes minced sheep heart, liver, and lungs, and mixes it with oatmeal, suet and spices like nutmeg, cinnamon and coriander, plus salt, pepper and stock. The mixture is boiled in a bag, usually made from a sheep’s stomach.  We love it. I’d say it tastes like a chunky beef barley stew.

The Haggis is paraded into the hall by the chef and a whisky bearer, led by a piper in formality that would border on the absurd if it weren’t Robert Burns Night. Once the Haggis was settled up front, one of the DSHA members recited Burns’s “Address to the Haggis,” which involved stabbing it with a large knife and inhaling its pungent vapors.

Make way for the Haggis!

After that, a local reverend offered grace and a piper in the rafters played “Amazing Grace.” Then we dispersed to seven clan rooms. Each featured different foods to sample and memorabilia specific to each clan. One room featured scotch. I was disappointed at the lack of trifle this year, but our enterprising friends found dessert bars on a different floor.

After much eating and conversation, a ceilidh dance was held in a large lounge room. Even though I’ve been to a ceilidh before, it wasn’t until that night that I learned (from overhearing a conversation) that ceilidh means “party” or “social visit.” We danced and listened to Scottish music performed by a live band.

We were sated and pleasantly tired from dancing once the evening ended. We felt like we’d been on a trip to Scotland without leaving the comfort of our own city. If you ever have the chance to attend Robert Burns Night, I’d encourage you to do so. It’s a spectacle, indeed.

Loterie Farm: Rustic Paradise

/ mariezhuikov / 9 Comments
The view from Chewbaca Point on Loterie Farm, St. Martin.

Continuing my posts about the isle of St. Martin, I offer this one about Loterie Farm, a private nature reserve on the French side of the island. This was my second time at the farm, but a first for my traveling companions.

The Jungle Room

The other time I was there, I was initiated into ziplining. The farm has a course that takes you through the surrounding trees and hillsides. If you’re lucky, you’ll see the resident monkeys as you glide along. But since I’d already been there, done that, I and two others from our group decided to explore the farm’s hiking trails.

I admit to not doing much research on the trails beforehand. But I should have clued into the strenuousness of the hike from the switchbacks on the map, which we paid $10 for. (I advise just accessing the map on your phone from the farm’s website if you have coverage). The receptionist’s questions about whether we were wearing adequate footwear also should have been a big hint.

We each grabbed a cane stalk hiking stick from a box near the trailhead, which we were thankful for later. We took the short (60-minute) hike to a spring and then up to Chewbaca View Point.

The hike to the spring was easy, although the spring was not flowing when we were there in November. Then the trail headed up a mountain. There were parts where we Elders were scrambling over boulders, clinging to handholds as best we could. This is where we were very thankful for the hiking sticks.

But, the view from Chewbaca Point was worth it. We could see all the way to the ocean and many of the towns in between. We rested there and rehydrated. (Bring water!) The temps were about 85 degrees (F) and my tank top was totally soaked in sweat from the climb.

From the point, the trail descends back to the farm whence we came. Erosion caused gullies and tricky footing, but we went slow, and everyone made it back to the trailhead without mishap. Along the way, numerous green moths fluttered around us, making us feel like we were in a Disney movie or something.

The best mojito ever!

I should also mention that before our hike, we ate lunch at the farm’s Jungle Room Restaurant. It’s up among the treetops and features cozy couches for large groups and an area for sit-down dinners. The food was exquisite the first time I was there, and we certainly had a repeat performance. I had one of their poke bowls and Russ had the cajun Mahi Mahi salad (see image). Both were delectable, plus my mojito with fresh mint was the best I’ve ever had.

After our hike, we contemplated a plunge in the farm’s Jungle Pool, but we would have only had an hour to enjoy it, and the price tag didn’t seem worth it. So, we hung out at the bar while waiting for the rest of our crew to return from their activities. I ended up having one of their nonalcoholic mixed drinks – I think it had mango in it. So refreshing!

I find it ironic that I was able to complete our hike intact because when I returned home, I ended up breaking my ankle doing a simple side-shuffle exercise during a kickboxing workout. So, I sit here in my ankle boot, envious of my past flexibility and prowess on this adventure. Oh well. Go figure!

The cajun Mahi Mahi salad.

Hearty White Chicken Chili

/ mariezhuikov / 6 Comments

The weather is still wintry here in the North – stubborn snow piles linger, and more snow is falling as I type this. A few days have been warm enough to provide a hint of spring, but today is not one of them. Everyone is bundled back up in their puffy jackets and boots. A perfect time for a bowl of thick, creamy goodness.

This is a recipe I saved from our local newspaper. It was originally written by Bea Ojakangas, Duluth’s Scandinavian version of Julia Childs. I have modified it over the years to make it wheat- and corn-free, plus I’ve changed some of the spices more to my liking. If you want to make it with wheat, the original flour measurements are included. If you want corn, simply add a can of corn when you add the beans. Instead of cream, I prefer evaporated milk because cream is just too rich for me these days. This makes 4-6 servings.

Bon appetit!

White Chicken Chili (Wheat- and Corn-Free)

½ lb butter
1 T chopped garlic (or ½ tsp dried minced garlic)
2 lbs chopped chicken or 2-10 oz cans of chicken
2 cups white onion, cut in large chunks (one large onion)
¾ cp gluten free all-purpose flour (or ½ cup regular flour)
2 tsp cumin
sprinkle of chili powder
salt to taste (I use 1-1/2 tsp sea salt)
pepper
4 cups chicken broth (I use Imagine organic vegetarian no-chicken broth)
1 pint cream (or 1 can evaporated milk)
2 cups cooked navy beans (1 can beans)

Melt the butter in a large saucepan. Add garlic and cook until it starts to brown, stirring occasionally. Add the chicken and onion and stir together. Slowly add the flour to absorb the butter. Add the cumin, chili powder, salt, pepper, and broth. Simmer approximately a half-hour. Add evaporated milk (cream) and beans. Simmer another 15 mins.

Serve topped with sour cream, shredded white cheese and chopped parsley, if desired.

Owamni Restaurant: Celebrating Native American Cuisine

/ mariezhuikov / 8 Comments
The bison pot roast from Owamni Restaurant

I saw an article in the Minneapolis Star Tribune yesterday saying that Owamni Restaurant was designated as the newspaper’s top restaurant for 2021. It reminded me I still needed to follow up on my promise to write about Russ’s and my experience at this Native American eatery during our weekend Romancing the Minneapple.

I’ve wanted to eat at one of Chef Sean Sherman’s places (he has a food truck, as well) ever since I saw him speak at a launch for his cookbook in Duluth. Sherman focuses on precolonization food (food that Natives used to eat before all us Europeans immigrated and mucked up their lifeways). This includes ingredients that Natives grew themselves or foraged, like squash, wild rice, venison, chestnuts, fish, berries, and cedar boughs.

He’s trying to reconnect Natives to their pre-European culture, so much of which has been lost. I suppose it’s also a way to show us nonnatives what life used to be like in America historically, plus the food is super healthy – no wheat flour, dairy, or refined sugar.

Several recipes from his cookbook have found their way into my permanent recipe file, notably the squash apple soup with cranberry sauce and cedar-maple tea.

Russ and I were late in planning our trip to Minneapolis and only began making reservations for it a couple of weeks beforehand. Owamni has been featured in the New York Times, Lost Angeles Times and Chicago Tribune, among others, so, as you can guess, reservations are booked months in advance. But, they have first-come, first served bar seating, so we decided to take a chance on that. If it didn’t work out, we had a Plan B restaurant in mind.

Wild game salad

We took a snowy ¾ of a mile walk under a full moon over and along the Mississippi River from the Nicollet Island Inn to get to Owmani, which is housed in an historic water works building. We figured if we got there early in the evening (5:30 pm), the wait might not be as long. I think this was a good strategy. We only had to wait about 45 minutes for seats at the bar.

One of the first things you’ll notice is that the menu isn’t typical. There are not separate listings for appetizers, plus the entrees are sharable. When I expressed confusion to our friendly bartender, he explained that the concept is like a Tapas Bar, where you end up ordering lots of small plates and sharing. That way, you can sample a variety of selections.

To begin, we ordered (and shared) the cedar maple baked beans, the wild game salad, and the bison pot roast. They also have a good selection of wines and nonalcoholic drinks available. Everything was wonderful. The beans, because they are flavored with maple syrup instead of brown sugar, aren’t as sweet as usual, but that allows the natural bean flavor to come through, with cedar lurking in the background. The wild game salad featured dried duck and turkey, which could be a bit chewy, on a bed of kale garnished with a duck egg. Russ is normally not a big fan of kale, but he said it was delish and ate it all!

The bison pot roast was the piece de resistance – a slow-cooked and tender hunk of bison surrounded by natural gravy, hazelnut-crusted carrots, a mustard green sauce and a horseradishy sunchoke (Jerusalem artichoke) puree, topped with an edible purple violet. The meat melted in our mouths. It’s the first time I’ve had bison and it was truly memorable.

For dessert, I had a chocolate chia cake with sorbet and a caramel honey sauce, and Russ had a berry-walnut milk parfait. Both were excellent.

The cedar maple baked beans, berry walnut milk parfait, and the chocolate chia cake

The neat thing about sitting at the bar is you can watch the workers and see the other dishes and drinks they are preparing. I noticed a cranberry nonalcoholic drink that I’d like to try if I eat there again. Diners with reservations got tables near windows that overlooked part of the river (Owamni Yomni) considered a site of peace and wellbeing for the Dakota and Anishinaabe people.

Most of the workers looked to be of Native American descent. Most of the diners looked like well-to-do white people. That felt rather weird to me. Is this just another way for white people to appropriate Native American culture? Have we turned these Natives into slaves serving us food we want to eat just because it’s the latest trend?

Although I was a bit uncomfortable with those feelings, it seemed like it was high time that Native American foods were celebrated. After all, we have Mexican restaurants, Chinese, etc. However, these cultures haven’t been oppressed like the Natives have. Part of me feels like this restaurant should only be for Native Americans at first. I felt like I was taking the chair of someone who might need this food more than I did in order to feel whole.

I am still struggling with these feelings and I’m not sure what to make of them. But I probably wouldn’t let them stop me from eating there again.

Alas, the restaurant is closed for a mid-winter break right now. But it plans to reopen on January 19 (2022) for a winter dinner series. Proof of vaccination will be required to enter.