By Mia Costales
As a fifth-generation Mexican-American, I’ll be the first to say that I’m pretty far removed from my ancestors’ culture. I don’t speak Spanish — very well, at least. My family never celebrated any traditional Mexican holidays and I don’t share the same struggles and triumphs that many first-gen Mexican-Americans experience. Despite this, my family has managed to salvage one crucial aspect of our culture — food. Because of this, I grew up regularly eating my mom’s pozole, my grandma’s enchiladas, my aunt’s tamales, my uncle’s molé — the list goes on. If there’s one thing I hope to pass down to my future children, it’s all of the recipes that were passed down to me.
Food is an excellent medium for showcasing cultural pride and education. One dish has the power to tell the story of thousands of people, oftentimes a story based in indigenous roots, colonization and reclamation. Many of the dishes that we know and love today are the product of multiple cultures. Tacos are the product of Mesoamerican cuisine, like masa harina and chiles combined with European introduction of livestock and cooking techniques. The bánh mì is a direct result of French colonization in Vietnam, combining traditionally Vietnamese ingredients like pickled vegetables, chiles and cilantro with French ingredients like mayonnaise, pâté and the quintessential baguette.
If these dishes were to get lost over generations, the history associated with them also gets lost. Centuries of celebration, oppression, invention, adaptation and survival can become forever extinct as traditional cultural dishes die out. Honoring ancestry and preserving cultural traditions is more important than ever and cooking with traditional ingredients is one of the easiest ways to do this.
Nosheen Maung, an environmental science management major, explained that she honors her Burmese heritage by cooking cultural recipes her mom passed down to her.
“Growing up first-gen Burmese, I find it even more important to learn my mom’s food because it’s scary to feel it decreasing in importance from generation to generation, especially because Burma is so far,” Maung said. “I just talked to my mom recently and moving so far away from her for college, I miss her cooking more than I can express.”
The next time you go to The Depot and eat a katsu burger, take a moment to think about where the recipe came from. There’s a good chance that the recipe originated in someone’s kitchen hundreds of years ago and has evolved over the years into the chicken sandwich that holds you over in between classes.
Food has always been political and keeping family recipes alive is imperative to fighting white supremacy and colonial ideals. Shop at your local cultural grocery store. Host dinner parties highlighting the food of your friends’ cultural backgrounds. Write down your recipes. Expand your palate. I urge you to stay in touch with your ancestry and explore your culture’s cuisine because revolution can start in your kitchen.
Mia Costales is a senior journalism major and the Life & Arts Editor for The Lumberjack. With a background in music performance, she hopes to bring thoughtful and informative stories to the public.