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
