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| Lamb and Piñon Stuffed Frybread |
I hope you'll enjoy Fork in the Road, a series of posts in which I recount the places we've been, recreate the most memorable meals we've enjoyed, and rehabilitate the ones we'd otherwise rather forget. Last time, the Roadtrip Dinner Redux was in Santa Fe, New Mexico and a simple side dish of Posole. Heading west, we found ourselves in Flagstaff, Arizona where a not-so-traditional Native American dish piqued my interest . . .
It's amazing how different the scenery looks when viewed through a bug-splattered windshield.
As Mr. Noodle and I continued on our 'round-the-West roadtrip, I must admit to carrying clichéd images and expectations of what we would find, especially in the Southwest. Some were confirmed, like the dried chiles, deep red and clustered in ristras, hanging against sun-baked adobe walls; solitary buttes rising into blue skies like massive sentinels, and a dust devil twirling and twisting in a frenetic dance across the desert floor. Others were completely upended, such as the lush evergreens that draped over the famous red rocks of Arizona, belying my image of a dry, bleached state. But the landscape wasn't all I had wrong: it turned out that the foodscape was just as surprising.
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| Evergreens and red rocks near Flagstaff, AZ |
Mr. Noodle and I were keen to taste regional specialties during our travels. In New Mexico, wonderfully piquant chile sauces were most often mentioned as a must-try, although the highlight of our Santa Fe eats was a side of
simple posole. As we headed into Arizona toward Flagstaff, I looked forward to trying
prickly pear cactus, the fruits and pads (
nopales) of which are used in everything from salsas to salads and sweets. Arizona cookery is heavily influenced by the cuisine of the northern Mexican state of
Sonora, which is noted for its milder use of spice and the prevalence of beef and wheat in recipes, rather than the pork and corn more common in other regions. But while we were gearing up for some Sonoran-inspired specialties such as
carne seca, we kept hearing about another foodstuff whose origins are firmly rooted in American history.
Bread. Fried.
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| Frybread frying |
Are you going to have frybread? asked one person.
Don't miss the frybread! enthused another.
Frybread is exactly as its name suggests: a simple flat bread traditionally pan-fried in lard and served plain, topped with meat, cheese and beans, or sweetened with sugar or honey. Often preceded in name by
Indian,
Native American, or a specific tribe or nation, frybread is a potent and popular culinary symbol of this country's indigenous peoples - a somewhat surprising status given the implications of its history and the repercussions of its present.
While the terms
Native Americans and
American Indians serve to broadly identify the aboriginal peoples of the United States, they may also erroneously imply that there is a singular culture shared amongst them. In fact, the federal government, through the
Bureau of Indian Affairs, officially recognizes
564 tribes, with scores more recognized on the state-level or in the process of petitioning for recognition. Although they share regional similarities in certain customs, language and other aspects of culture, each of these groups is a separate self-governing entity with distinct cultural identities. Yet somehow, frybread transcends the differences and is found in some version or another in nearly all tribal cuisines.
Contrary to what its importance to Native Americans implies, the origins of frybread are neither ancient nor based on any traditional food sources. The Navajo (
Diné), whose semi-autonomous territory encompasses nearly 27,000 square miles in northeastern Arizona, western New Mexico and southeastern Utah, are generally credited with creating the frybread known today, but under painful, tragic circumstances. In 1864, during a period known as
The Long Walk, nearly 6000 Navajo were forcibly removed from their ancestral lands and marched on foot over 300 miles east to Fort Sumner in New Mexico, where they were incarcerated in an area just 40 square miles in size. There, the Navajo and a smaller group of Apaches were cut off from their traditional food sources of wild game, fish and fruits, and unable to grow their staple crops of corn due to the poor quality of the land, limited water resources and pest infestation. To avoid starvation, the US Army provided rations of wheat flour and lard; with these meager ingredients, the Navajo made frybread, which helped sustain them for four arduous years at Fort Sumner before they were finally allowed to return to their homeland.
Symbol of Pride, Reminder of Oppression or Health Threat?
How, then, did a purportedly Navajo creation come to have such an ubiquitous presence in the food cultures of so many other tribes throughout the US? Unfortunately, it's difficult to say how it spread among such varied and distant groups. One train of thought is that the concept of frybread existed well before The Long Walk, as a form of
bannock, or flat quick breads:
"The bannock of Aboriginal people was made of corn and nut meal, and flour made from ground plant bulbs . . . [and were] cooked by various methods. Some rolled the dough in sand then pit-cooked it. Some groups baked the bannock in clay or rock ovens. Other groups wrapped the dough around a green hardwood stick and toasted it over an open fire."
(from Bannock Awareness, British Columbia Ministry of Forests and Range)
In her book,
American Indian Food, author Linda Murray Berzok refers to frybread as
Ban ik' aha (bannock?) and notes that "there is absolutely nothing native about it, not its ingredients, technique or the cooking vessel . . . Fried breads were a Spanish tradition; they brought wheat, lard (from pigs) and metal fry pans to the Southwest . . . The relocation of tribes brought them into contact with new ones and could have facilitated the spread of fry bread"(p. 36-7).
Regardless of its origins, the modern version of frybread is a deeply contested symbol in Native American societies. Many question how a food, whether as an adaptation of a foreign culture or borne of a miserable and unconscionable internment of a people, and with no links whatsoever to the traditions of indigenous tribes, could become so ingrained in their food culture. But even more say that it is precisely this history - of Other dominance and oppression - that makes it an appropriate representation of the American Indian pride and unity shared by all tribes.
"Indian rocker Keith Secola celebrates the food in his popular song Frybread. In Sherman Alexie's awared-winning film Smoke Signals, one character weaers a 'Frybread Power' T-shirt. Both men call frybread today's most relevant Native American symbol. They say the food's conflicted status - it represents both perseverance and pain - reflects these same elements in Native American history. 'Frybread is the story of our survival,' says Alexie."
(from "Frybread", by Jen Miller/Smithsonian.com)
It's a survival in peril, says writer/activist Suzan Shown Harjo, who wrote a controversial
2005 article vilifying the cherished frybread as a primary culprit in the high rates of obesity and related health issues among American Indians (according to one
CDC report, rates of Type 2 diabetes is about 12% versus 5% for the general population, and as high as 50% in some tribes). More recently, Health.com named frybread as one of the
50 fattiest foods. With as much as 700 calories per flat loaf and more than 25 grams of fat, it is such a nutritional black hole that an oft-repeated joke is that 'frybread has killed more Indians than the federal government.' And yet judging from the vociferous response to Harjo's viewpoint, many Native American are loathe to give up this food. It remains a staple in many households and no powwow, feast or celebration is complete without it. Recently, restaurants such as
The Fry Bread House in Phoenix, AZ and
Tocabe in Denver, CO aim to make 'Indian tacos' as popular in mainstream American culture as the original Mexican favorite.
Fusion Food
Actually, Indian tacos more closely resemble another Mexican dish called
tostadas, with frybread standing in for the toasted or deep-fried corn tortillas, then topped with beans, cheese, lettuce and meat. Considered the unofficial state food of Arizona, where it is known as
Navajo taco, it was the dish that popped from the menu when Mr. Noodle and I sat down for a meal at
Salsa Brava, one of Flagstaff's most popular restaurants. With all the recommendations to try frybread ringing in my ears, how could I pass on it?
Perhaps I should have started with just plain old frybread. It's not that Navajo taco wasn't tasty - in fact, it was really quite delicious . . . if its components were served individually. The
pork carnitas was beyond tender, dissolving with full flavor with just one bite. The delicate texture of the savory meat was in perfect contrast to the frybread's pleasantly chewy and slightly sweet interior beneath a satisfying outer crispiness. That is, the fried crispiness that hadn't yet become soggy-soft from a generous layer of beans. I was not unhappy with my meal, eating as much as I could (which was rather a lot!) but something was missing.
After the built-up expectations of tasting frybread, I was rather disappointed that it had been relegated to a mere platter for a mound of toppings belonging to a different food tradition. After learning more about this fried dough's history and symbolism of tribal pride, I feel as if the Indian taco also represents something else: just as the frybread was hidden beneath all those toppings, so has Native American cuisine been obscured by our fascination with the foods of other, more distant cultures. I can name favorite dishes from various Asian cuisines and I've cooked traditional recipes from lands I've never visited, but how much do I - or any of us - know of the foods of the people who have lived off this land for
millennia, beyond frybread and wild rice? Not much, unfortunately. But I hope to remedy this lack by exploring the history and diversity of American Indian food traditions in future posts.
Roadtrip Dinner Redux: Frybread, Stuffed
To start, I decided that my Navajo Taco from Salsa Brava in Flagstaff, AZ would be my next Roadtrip Dinner Redux. As delicious as this dish was, I wanted to find more of the essence of Indian frybread beneath all those toppings . . .
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| Plain frybread |
There's a basic reason that frybread is so popular, despite its nutritional failings and dubious historical antecedents: it's tasty! But the best qualities of this fried dough - crispiness yielding to a pillowy sweetness - are almost overwhelmed by other flavors and textures in typical Indian/Navajo tacos. So, I thought I'd try bringing the focus back on the frybread and its Native American connections by swapping out 'toppings' for 'fillings' made with ingredients more common to Navajo cookery:
Lamb - Introduced by the Spanish in the 16th century, sheep is the Navajo Nation's most important livestock and the
Navajo-Churro breed, considered one of North America's earliest domesticated farm animals, is highly prized for its wool and meat. Mutton stew, along with frybread, is most often named when referring to the best representations of Navajo dishes.
Piñon (Pinyon) - For thousands of years, these pine nuts have provided American indigenous peoples with cholesterol-free calories (nearly 2500 kcals per pound!), many of the 9 essential amino acids for growth and other important nutrients needed to sustain a healthy diet dependent on wild food sources (Lanner, 101-2). Today, over 80% of the pine nuts consumed in the US are mostly imported from China, but the seeds of two native pinyon trees found primarily in the Southwest - Colorado piñon (
Pinus edulis) and Singleleaf piñon (
P. monophylla) - are still harvested by hand much as they have been for millenia and continue to be an important Navajo food (Sharashkin, n.p.).
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| Piñon nuts, freshly shelled |
Sage - Specifically, white sage (
Salvia apiana, part of the mint family) has a variety of uses in Southwestern Native American traditions, including ceremonial, medicinal, cosmetic and culinary purposes. It should not be confused with another white sage (
Artemisia ludoviciana) which is also used in American Indian ceremonies and medicine, but belongs to the daisy/sunflower family [source: Wikipedia]. As I could not find either kind of white sage, I substituted the more common garden sage (
S. officinalis) for my recipe.
Peaches and Apricots - The cultivation of peaches and apricots in the American Southwest was introduced by Spanish settlers in the early 17th century and first adopted by the
Hopi, who then passed along the knowledge to their regional neighbors, the Navajo. Peaches eventually became such an important crop in the Navajo diet that the destruction of thousands of their fruit trees, in late summer of 1864 by Captain John Thompson and the First New Mexico Calvary, was considered the breaking point for the last holdouts of the Long Walk (Jett, 368). While it may have been more appropriate in an historical context to use dried peaches, I chose to use the smaller, more plump dried apricots for purely aesthetic reasons.
As you may note, these ingredients have a decidedly Navajo bias, in keeping with the origin story of frybread. However, for the frybread recipe itself, I deviated from this theme. Although this fried staple consists of very basic ingredients - flour, water and salt - some
tribal variations do exist. Most Navajo frybread recipes call for powdered milk (in some, fresh milk), but I opted for a simple combination of flour (all-purpose and whole wheat), salt, baking powder and water.
Finally, to stuff the frybread, I chose an Indian method - as in the South Asian country.
Parathas are an Indian flat bread which are also pan-fried and often made with fillings, making it an ideal model for my version of frybread. For guidance on how to fill and roll out the dough, I followed
this video of two guys, one messy kitchen and a very versatile wine bottle!
Other works cited
Jett, Stephen & John Thompson. "The Destruction of Navajo Orchards in 1864: Captain John Thompson's Report". Arizona and the West. 16:4 (Winter 1974), pp. 365-78.
Lanner, Ronald M. The Piñon Pine: a Natural and Cultural History. University of Nevada Press, 1981.
Sharashkin, Leonid and Michael Gold. Pine Nuts: Species, Products, Markets, and Potential for US Production. Northern Nut Growers Association 95th Annual Report, 2004.
Lamb and Piñon Stuffed Frybread
One of these filled breads is quite hearty, but sliced into triangles, they would make excellent appetizers. I was fortunate enough to find piñon nuts as we traveled through the Navajo Nation in northeastern Arizona (a whole 'nother post), but Italian pignolas or other pine nuts would do just as well.
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| Savory stuffing |
Makes 10-12 stuffed breads
Frybread Dough
(adapted from Pueblo Indian Cookbook, Phyllis Hughes [ed.])
Ingredients
1/2 tsp salt
1 Tbsp baking powder
1 cup whole wheat bread flour
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup warm water
Combine salt, baking powder and flours in a large bowl. Add water in small increments and knead with your hands until dough is soft but not sticky. Cover bowl and let dough rest for 20 minutes.
Lamb and Piñon Filling
Ingredients
1/2 lb ground lamb
1/4 cup onions, finely chopped
1.5 - 2 tsps ground sage
1/2 tsp ground white pepper
1/2 tsp coarse salt
3 dried apricots, chopped very small
1/4 cup piñon or other pine nut
1/2 tsp fresh sage, minced (about 2-3 leaves)
1. Using your hands, mix lamb, onions, ground sage, white pepper and salt until well-combined;
2. In a non-stick skillet over medium heat, cook lamb mixture, breaking up the meat so that it is in crumbly pieces and just until the meat is no longer pink;
3. Turn off heat and add apricots, then piñon nuts and fresh sage, stirring well into the lamb mixture;
To stuff the frybread dough: (watch
this video for guidance)
In a cast iron skillet or fry pan, pour oil to about 1/4" deep and heat.
1. Pull off a piece of dough about the size of a small egg and roll into a ball between your palms;
2. On a floured surface, roll dough ball with a rolling pin (or wine bottle!) into a flat circle, about 5" in diameter;
3. Spoon 2-3 Tbsps of the lamb filling in the center of the flattened dough, then gather the edges toward the center and pinch close. Make sure that there are no gaps in the seam;
4. Place the stuffed ball, seam side down, on floured surface and gently roll out again to a slightly smaller circle than before (about 4" diameter). Try not to let the filling break through the dough as you do not want oil to saturate the inside;
5. Carefully place stuffed dough in hot oil and fry until lightly golden, then gently flip/turn over;
6. Remove from hot oil and place on paper towel-lined plate to blot excess grease. Repeat with remaining dough and filling.
7. Serve hot, or allow cooked frybreads to cool down, then stack with wax or parchment paper between each layer, and freeze for later.
If you'd like to try open-faced Indian tacos instead, check out these versions from the recent
International Incident Party: Tacos, hosted by Penny of
Jeroxie: Addictive and Consuming:
Anh of
A Food Lover's Journey -
Fry Bread Taco with Mexican Spicy Meatballs
Evelyne of
Cheap Ethnic Eatz -
Navajo Tacos
Brie of
Le Grand Fromage -
Native American Frybread Taco
