Storytelling Through Food: Returning to the Table, Returning to the Story.

Miwok Native Youth Tribal Residency June 22–26, 2026

There are moments in a chef's life when food becomes something more than a meal.

Not because the food itself is any less important, but because of what is happening around it. Food has a way of bringing people together, creating space for conversation, and carrying knowledge from one generation to the next.

From June 22nd–26th, I will have the honor of spending five days with Miwok tribal youth on their homelands, leading a culinary residency called Storytelling Through Food. While we will be cooking together every day, what we are really creating is an experience rooted in story, culture, memory, and responsibility.

For me, this work represents far more than teaching recipes.

As an Afro-Indigenous chef and educator, I have spent much of my life exploring the ways food connects us to who we are. I am of Mvskoke, Cherokee, Filipino, and African American descent, that has taught me that identity is not something separated into different parts. It is woven together through family, community, memory, and place.

I was born in the Bay Area, and this region is my home. My understanding of food, land, and identity has been shaped here through the lived experience of California Indian communities, as well as through cultural social gatherings, Stanford Pow-Wows, and tribal ceremonies that have been a steady part of my life.

My ancestors came from different histories and carried different traditions, yet food has always been one of the things that connected those worlds. Through food, I learned that culture is not something that only existed in the past. It is something we practice every day. It lives in our kitchens, our gatherings, our stories, and our relationships with one another.

That understanding shapes the way I approach food sovereignty.

When I speak about food sovereignty, I am not speaking only about agriculture, policy, or access to healthy ingredients. I am speaking about the ties between people and land, between elders and youth, and between memory and future generations. Food sovereignty begins when we understand that food is more than something we consume. It carries history, knowledge, and responsibility. That idea sits at the center of this residency.

For five days, students will step into a working kitchen where cooking becomes a way of learning about the world around them. Each day will focus on a dish inspired by the landscapes and ecological systems that have sustained Miwok communities for countless generations. Through those dishes, students will explore the connections between food, culture, environment, and community.

Our journey begins with The River Remembers.

Through alder-roasted salmon, watercress, and elderberry glaze, students will learn about the salmon's return from the Pacific Ocean to the rivers where its life began. The lesson is not only about preparing fish. It is about migration, resilience, memory, and the responsibility we share to protect healthy waterways. The salmon's journey reminds us that no matter how far we travel, there is value in remembering where we come from.

From the rivers, we move into the meadows.

In The Meadow Provides, smoked turkey, miner's lettuce, wild onions, acorns, and pine nuts become an opportunity to talk about awareness and observation. Students will explore how abundance often exists all around us when we take the time to notice it. The land is constantly offering lessons, but those lessons require patience, curiosity, and respect.

The next day takes us into the foothills.

In Pitter-Pat Footsteps Through the Foothills, roasted quail, summer squash, and blackberry sauce help tell a story about curiosity and lifelong learning. For generations, Indigenous communities learned from the land through observation and experience. Those traditions remind us that learning happens everywhere, not only in classrooms. It happens through paying attention, asking questions, and remaining open to the world around us.

In Beneath the Oaks, venison, roots, sage, and cherries become a conversation about stewardship.

Oak woodlands have provided food, medicine, shelter, and gathering places for generations. They remind us that receiving gifts from the land comes with responsibilities. Caring for the land is not separate from benefiting from it. The two are connected.

Our final meal, The Summer Gathering, brings the lessons of the week together.

Through juniper-roasted elk, blackberries, toasted pine nuts, and summer herbs, students will explore the role food plays in creating community. Throughout history, meals have been places where stories are shared, relationships are strengthened, and knowledge is passed forward. Food has always been at the center of belonging.

Together, these meals tell a larger story about healthy ecosystems, cultural continuity, climate awareness, and food sovereignty. Each dish helps students understand that food is connected to the land and that caring for one means caring for the other.

Many young people today encounter food primarily through grocery stores, restaurants, or packaged products. Their understanding of food often begins after someone else has grown it, harvested it, processed it, and delivered it. As a result, many have limited opportunities to build relationships with the natural systems that make food possible.

This residency offers something different.

Students will have an opportunity to think about food from beginning to end. They will learn where ingredients come from. They will hear the stories connected to those foods. They will see how culture, ecology, and community are woven together through everyday acts of cooking and sharing meals. Most importantly, they will begin to understand their own place within those stories.

That work feels especially meaningful because this experience may reach beyond the students participating in the residency.

Throughout the week, filmmaker Jack Kohler and his team will be documenting the classes as part of a broader vision for educational programming centered on Indigenous youth. What began as conversations about documentation and tribal archives has grown into discussions about a new Indigenous cooking and storytelling series designed specifically for children.

The idea is both exciting and deeply needed.

A Native chef teaching through food while engaging with young learners in ways that make Indigenous knowledge accessible, engaging, and fun. A space where healthy eating, cultural identity, environmental awareness, and storytelling can come together in a way that feels natural and meaningful.

As someone who grew up rarely seeing Indigenous chefs represented in media, the possibility of contributing to that vision carries a great deal of meaning for me.

Representation matters because when Native children see themselves reflected in educational programming, they begin to understand that their knowledge, experiences, and cultures have value. They can see themselves as future educators, farmers, chefs, scientists, leaders, and caretakers of their communities. They begin to understand that their cultures are not relics of the past. They are living systems of knowledge that continue to shape the future.

Yet despite the cameras, the filming, and the possibilities that may emerge from this work, the heart of it remains simple.

It comes back to the students.

It comes back to the conversations that happen while preparing a meal. It comes back to the questions that arise while tending a fire, harvesting ingredients, or trying something new for the first time. It comes back to the stories exchanged around a table and the confidence that grows when young people begin to see themselves as part of something larger than themselves.

Those are the moments where food sovereignty takes root.

As I look ahead to this residency, I find myself thinking less about recipes and more about what happens around food. I think about the conversations that begin while preparing a meal. The stories surface while gathering ingredients. The knowledge that passes quietly from one generation to the next around a table.

Food has always been one of the ways our communities remember who we are.

It teaches us where we come from. It reminds us of our responsibilities to one another and to the land. It helps us understand that culture is not something we inherit once. It is something we practice, protect, and pass forward.

My hope is that every student leaves this residency with new skills and new confidence, but also with something deeper: a stronger connection to the landscapes, traditions, and stories that have shaped Miwok life for generations.

Because in the end, food is never just food.

Food carries memory, medicine, culture, and responsibility. It teaches us where we come from and reminds us of our obligations to one another and to the land.

When we share those stories with the next generation, we are doing more than teaching them how to cook. We are helping them carry forward knowledge that has always belonged to them. We are helping them imagine the future while remaining connected to the people, places, and traditions that shaped them.

For me, that is what food sovereignty looks like. It lives in relationships. It lives in stories. And it lives in the moments when young people discover that they are part of a story that is still being written.

As I think about the future generations who will inherit these stories, I find myself with questions I hope they will carry with them.

Where does your food come from, and who brought it to your table?

What do you know about the land that sustains what you eat each day?

Who taught you what nourishment means?

What stories live inside the meals you share with others?

How do you care for the land that cares for you?

What foods connect you to your family, your community, and your sense of place?

And how might your understanding of food change if you saw it not as a product, but as a living story you are part of?

These are the questions I hope the next generation will continue to ask, long after this residency ends.

---Ramon Shiloh

 

Kit Kat Club Exhibition Origin Story

Kit Kat Club: An Art Form Reimagined

A Collaborative Exhibition by Ramon Shiloh and Scott Erwert

October 2026 / Hosted by Rhythms PDX / Portland, Oregon

Dates to Be Announced

Curatorial & Artist Statement:
Ramon Shiloh

 

This exhibition comes out of a long interest in how power, perception, and shared cultural experiences shape the way we see each other and the world around us. A key point of origin for me was the 2016 election and the conversations that followed around public remarks, power, and the way women were being spoken about and treated in the public sphere. That moment stayed with me, not only as a political event, but as a reminder of how language, behavior, and accountability are deeply connected to culture.

From there, this project became less about a single event and more about how public narratives are created, how images and language influence one another, and how art can hold difficult conversations without needing to resolve them. I've become increasingly interested in how artists, writers, and communities respond to these moments by turning experience into dialogue, reflection, and action.

At the center of this exhibition is performance culture; its environments, visibility, labor, contradictions, and influence. I am drawn to spaces where identity is both expressed and constructed at the same time, where freedom and perception overlap, and where meaning changes, depending on who is looking.

Humor is also an important part of my work. Not as a distraction, but as a tool. Humor can create relief, expose contradictions, and open doors into conversations people might otherwise avoid. Sometimes it allows us to look at difficult subjects more honestly.

My collaboration with Scott Erwert brings together two multidisciplinary artists with different perspectives but a shared interest in examining the culture we live in. My work uses surrealism, humor, color, and detail to explore subjects that are often controversial, misunderstood, or overlooked. Scott's work focuses on the atmosphere of performance spaces, capturing light, movement, energy, and the environments where people gather, perform, and express themselves.

 

Kit Kat Club: An Art Form Reimagined is more than a single exhibition. It is the first chapter in a larger series of collaborative exhibitions that Scott and I are developing around subjects that many people encounter every day but rarely stop, to discuss in a meaningful way.

We are starting with strip culture and the cultural significance of Portland's Kit Kat Club. From there, the series will continue with the Assassination FOREVER Stamp Series, Hypocrisy, Stereotype, and Racial Profile exhibitions. Each project will confront issues that continue to shape American life, whether people are comfortable talking about them or not.

The purpose of these exhibitions is simple: bring difficult conversations into public view. We are interested in examining the systems, beliefs, contradictions, and social pressures that influence how people see one another, how power operates, and how public opinion is formed. These exhibitions are not about telling people what to think. They are about encouraging people to slow down, look closer, ask questions, and engage with subjects that are often reduced to headlines, political talking points, or social media arguments.

Some viewers will agree with what they see. Others will disagree. Both responses are welcome. What matters is that the conversation happens.

Ultimately, this series is about confronting the realities, hypocrisies, stereotypes, and cultural forces that continue to influence our freedoms, identities, and relationships with one another. Art has always had the power to challenge assumptions, expose contradictions, and spark dialogue. Kit Kat Club: An Art Form Reimagined is where that conversation begins.

Images Details: sneak peak of new work
title: Superheroes
medium: acrylic on canvas
size: 30 x 15
by: Scott Erwert

Blink Of An Eye Thoughts

My work comes from noticing people and how we move through the world together, or sometimes alongside each other. Friendships have always fascinated me, even though I tend to keep a small circle and many loose connections through my life in the arts. Early loss shaped how I relate to closeness and taught me to value honesty, boundaries, and saying things plainly.

I am still very much a kid at heart, drawn to people who are open, generous, and curious, without agendas that divide. Living a full time life focused on art and food gives me space to breathe, stay grounded, and feel less alone while working on what matters. My practice reflects that rhythm of growth, presence, and showing up as yourself.

When I think about the time I have left on Earth, I hope to be remembered as someone who contributed to my communities, helping native youth trust their instincts and become good stewards in their own lives. In the cosmos, time is irrelevant, and here on Earth it passes in the blink of an eye. I try to get as much done as possible and take care along the way.

🌎

Cookbook Thoughts

 Happy New Year Instagram Peeps! It’s been awhile. Been off the grid working on something meaningful and the reason…

I want to share something I have been quietly developing for some time now.
I am working on my cookbook, and it is not a traditional one. My cookbook is rooted in storytelling, truth in history, and the belief that food carries more than flavor. It carries memory, responsibility, and the stories we often do not make space for.

The idea for my cookbook grew out of my desire to create a culinary residency for Native youth. I kept imagining a kitchen where young people could explore who they are, where they come from, and what kind of future they want to build through food. While that residency is still a vision in progress, it shaped everything about this book.

My cookbook is organized into three chapters, each one holding ten dishes.

The first chapter, “Human Conflict”, looks directly at the realities of our past and present. These dishes speak to American Indian Wars, Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, environmental destruction, white supremacy, and the erasure of Indigenous lives and histories. This part of the book is not meant to be comfortable. It is meant to be honest.

The second chapter, “Human Rights and Reconciliation”, moves toward healing and shared responsibility. These dishes explore what it means to exchange knowledge, respect boundaries, and practice restoration with one another and with the land.

The final chapter, “A Childrens Guide For a Better Future”, ends the book on a hopeful note. These dishes are playful, lighter in spirit, and rooted in imagination. They are meant to honor children and youth as carriers of what comes next, and to remind us why remembering history matters so we do not repeat harm.

My cookbook is about food, but it is also about listening. It is about slowing down and paying attention to what we carry and what we pass on. Every dish is meant to offer depth of flavor and truth on a plate.
I am sharing this now because this project matters deeply to me. It is still unfolding, and I am grateful to bring people into the process as it grows.

Food is how I tell stories. This is one of them.