"Just think, if the Indians gave the Pilgrims a donkey instead of a turkey, we'd all be getting a piece of ass for Thanksgiving. Happy Thanksgiving!"
I shit you not, I got this text twice this year on Turkey Day. I laughed once. Thanksgiving is meant to be a holiday of giving and appreciation. In my house, it's both of those things, plus a big up to Indian Country. For as long as I can remember, my Mom and I put up a protest fist of militance and wear our feathers in our hair. We are Choctaw. My great grandfather was a full blood Choctaw "Indian" and on Thanksgiving, it all comes out. Before my grandmother died, she would take me to the Poarch-Creek Powwow in Alabama where all Poarch-Creek Indians of that area would gather and dance, eat, and celebrate native customs. This just happened to be on or around Thanksgiving. I was obsessed with the traditional dress, while my mom always made sure to pick up the hand ground grits they sell only in Atmore. You won't believe me when I tell you they are the best grits you'll ever eat. If Quaker Oats knew about these, they'd be shaking in their silver buckled boots.
We'd prepare all the basics that would grace our table again one month later. All the usual suspects were there. An insanely enormous turkey, stuffing, candied sweet potato souffle, collard greens, green beans, honey baked ham, cranberry sauce, cornbread, pumpkin soup, seasonal salads, creamed corn and whatever desserts my aunt had prepared. We'd go the round of first, second and third (football) servings and listen to my mom bitch about how she wouldn't be preparing such a laborous meal the following year.
Though the selection comes very close to what Native Americans prepared for the Pilgrims, this year I decided to go deep and try a few hardcore traditional/local dishes. I am a self identified Locavore now and have been obsessed with eating local foods. You will find no bananas or pineapple in my kitchen, as I do not reside in the islands. No papaya for me, as it's not indigenous to the eastern shore. I am fascinated with preparing dishes that incorporate only locally available ingredients. I love my friend Aisha's lemon roll, but they don't sell it at the Farmer's Market because the lemons aren't grown here. That's a bit extreme, but you get my drift.
Now that I work for the National Museum of the American Indian, I have no excuse NOT to know what my Natives were eating come the first frosts of the season. I live in D.C. It's the District of Columbia now, but before the Euros got a hold of it, it belonged to the Piscataway, Powhatan and Algonquin tribes. For the most part, it was all about corn, beans, and squash. Even in the award winning eatery at my museum, all the traditional Native foods are served. Baked oysters with a maple juniper cream, grilled venison with caramelized wild onions, wild garlic and dried berry sauce. That's just from the Northern Woodlands, not even mentioning Northwest Coast, Meso America, or the Great Plains.
My mother introduced me to a new grain that I'd heard of, but had not tried, called quinoa. I'm sure most of you are probably already on the bandwagon, but it's new to me, so try not to judge. Did you know that quinoa is a pretty good source of protein, despite the fact that it's a grain? I wouldn't go so far as to call it positively protein packed, but it can hold it's own against its couscous counterpart.
I didn't make up a recipe for quinoa, as I'm still experimenting with it, so I will recommend a recipe that went quite well with our Thanksgiving feast. I will say, this as a side dish and be sure to have a good source of protein with it. Maybe this recipe has convinced my Mom not to order pizza next year. We shall see.
The Deal (per serving):
Calories: 165; Fat: 7g; Carbs: 23g; Protein: 4g
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