TR: What was the epiphany?
SS: I was working a job for this large national fitness corporation that’s based here in Minnesota. I was overseeing about 85 units across the nation, with their menus, menu development and recipe development, and four different restaurants in Minneapolis, too. I was being pulled in a million directions, not getting paid that much, really, and just being overworked, living this corporate lifestyle that I wasn’t used to at all. So all these factors led to a little bit of a burnout, and I just moved down to Mexico. I ended up in this little tiny town on the west coast in the state of Nayarit about an hour north of Puerto Vallarta. I was trying to figure out what to do next. The Indigenous people that were there, the Huichol, were always selling cool stuff down by the beach. They had all this amazing beadwork, and I started researching them, because I saw a lot of commonalities with their art, with their mythology, with their religion, and what I grew up with. It was very colorful, a lot of animals, a lot of plants that are taken as sacred. It felt very similar to the Lakota values on Pine Ridge.
The more I started researching, the more commonalities I saw. And then I just had this flash, this idea. I had been studying all these foods for so long, and I had been in the culinary world and had been a chef, and I had gotten good reviews in papers, and I had a decent career and a decent background. I could name hundreds of European recipes off the top of my head in European languages. But I realized that I didn’t know anything about my own heritage. I saw exactly what I needed to do. I just saw a pathway out in front of me. I’ve always kind of been on that path a little bit, growing up on the reservation, learning a few things from my grandparents, and then from my parents, and having that job of learning the plants. I always knew that plants were going to be the key. I knew that I could reconnect with my ancestry primarily with plants first, because I knew that my ancestors had a vast knowledge of the world around them, which largely was plant life.
I feel like the animals are the easy part. Anybody can break down game meat. You can use nose-to-tail on pretty much any animal if you want to. But plants are a whole different kind of situation, because there’s so many out there. And it’s not a part of our education system in the US. We don’t learn about plants. I started looking deeper into that relationship with plants. I just wanted to start to learn from a culinary perspective, how to identify, how to reconnect with these plants, and how to think about how my ancestors would have been utilizing these plants, how they would have been processing and preserving, and what kind of pantry items were they making out of these things. I also had tons of other questions, like, where did we get salts and what kind of fats did we use? How did we get energy? What were our nutritional needs? How were they being met? I had a lot of questions from a culinary perspective.
It was a long journey for me to learn this. What really helped the most was when I started actually doing this work and started being able to travel to different communities to put on some dinners, experiencing firsthand and listening to some of the stories from some elders in different regions, whether it’s Pacific Northwest or the Southwest, listening to all these pieces and seeing this deep connection with these plants and these foods around us. I also talked to a lot of elders in my own community, especially people in my family. They all went through assimilation, through boarding schools, and a lot of them didn’t grow up with Lakota as a first language like my grandparents and their parents did. I started just piecing together a guide of how to understand and decipher Indigenous foods, no matter where we happen to be.
Today, our main focus is North America. But we also see this as a global issue, because there’s Indigenous peoples across the globe that went through a very similar history of colonialism. I was just in Hawaii and in Australia, and there are very similar stories. It’s the same thing in India, in Africa, South America, Central America, the Middle East. There’s Indigenous communities across the globe that still have a lot of knowledge, but we need to start stewarding those knowledge bases and protecting them moving forward.
TR: I read recently that only 13% of Native Americans live on a reservation. I think about your childhood, on Pine Ridge in a predominantly Native American environment. But then when you were a teenager, you moved to Spearfish, South Dakota, with your mother, which was, if I understand it correctly, mostly white.
SS: It was a difficult transition, you know, I had a really thick rez accent back then, because I had spent my whole life on the reservation. I just saw a lot of open racism there, which I didn’t experience before. I remember in the gas station, there were pamphlets for the KKK, just a lot of blatant racism. When my mom first moved to Spearfish, she went to Black Hills State University. I was old enough where she wouldn’t get a babysitter for me and my sister. She didn’t have enough money to pay for us both. So I would go to the library, and I would be spending all my time hanging out with her while she was studying, just wandering around the library, learning how to use the Dewey Decimal System, which is a lost art nowadays.
I would get these piles of books on whatever topic I felt like researching and just sit in corners and absorb whatever I felt like absorbing. To me, that connection to education was something that was really special.
TR: Do you feel like in a way that Owamni is a poke in the chest to that difficulty you experienced in Spearfish, that open racism that you saw?
SS: Yeah. And I also see the insanity of a restaurant like Owamni being so unique. Why don’t we have Native American restaurants in every single city, in every single region? It’s because of the intense racist American history that we went through. It is standing up, utilizing this platform to make a strong statement. Especially with so much of a political divide as there is now, of things just pushing in the wrong direction. Like, this restaurant might not be able to exist in states like Florida right now, where they’re openly wiping away Black and Indigenous history and banning books on those subjects.
TR: I want to ask you about the name “The Sioux Chef.” Given some of these stereotypes about Native Americans, were you ever concerned about using the name?
SS: To date myself, I was using siouxchef@hotmail.com and siouxchef@aol.com—like those were my email handles, right? That’s just what I thought was clever. It was just a play on words. I also knew that the word Sioux was made up anyway. It’s a shortened version of a longer word that’s na-towe-ssi. And it’s part Algonquin and part French. So it’s like two languages coming together trying to describe a third party that they don’t know anything about. And there’s a couple of different theories of what that word means. One is “little vipers,” like, maybe we were jumping out of the grass and biting people. Or the more plausible one meant, “people who speak a different language.” And so the word “Sioux,” some people say it’s derogatory. But, like a lot of terms out there, it’s not what we call ourselves. I don’t call myself Sioux particularly. I did grow up in the Oglala Lakota Sioux Tribe, on Pine Ridge. But we would say we’re Lakota, and we could say we’re Oglala on top of that, right? Because it means specific things.
But I thought it was a funny play on words. It seemed like the right choice at the time.
TR: A lot of the interviews I’ve read with you focus as much on the mission of Owamni, the Indigenous Food Lab, and The Sioux Chef cookbook as they do on the food. And that seems a little unfair. How do you feel about the idea of Owamni as a political restaurant and a political venture?