Persimmon

Story by HK, Summer 2023

I was born in South Korea, and even after I moved to the United States, my mom made primarily Korean food at home. I always ate dried persimmon, called gotgam in Korean. This fruit stars in one of the stories my grandfather would always tell me, called The Tiger and the Dried Persimmon. In the story, a woman and her baby climb a mountain while trying to avoid a tiger. The baby cries, and the mother tries to get it to stop crying by mentioning that its crying will attract the tiger. The baby doesn’t understand, and keeps crying. The baby only stops crying once the mother mentions getting dried persimmon, which the baby understands is a treat. However, the tiger (who was listening in on their conversation) misunderstands this interaction, and comes to the conclusion that gotgam must be a being even more terrifying than the tiger. The tiger runs away in fear of this “gotgam”, and the mother and baby cross the mountain safely. 

This story has a few variations, but this is the version my grandpa always told me (I believe the most popular variation is a bit different). I asked him to tell me this story very, very often (almost every night), and I also ate the fruit very, very often. I believe you’re not supposed to eat too many, due to their sweetness. This made it a perfect snack for me as a child. 

I think that persimmons in general are not very commonly eaten in the United States. I have a regional connection with this plant, of course, but I associate it most strongly to that folktale due to my personal memories. Tigers are also very culturally significant to Koreans, especially post-WW2, so dried persimmons being something tigers are scared of, places the fruit in a comically reverent position for a lot of Koreans. 

Rose

Story by Leslie Navarro, Summer 2023

Growing up in my grandmother’s house, I was always surrounded by elements of nature. Her backyard contains a plethora of flowers, plants, and vegetables. Plants came and went throughout the years, but one thing that remained constant were the rose bushes. The roses all in their white, pink, and red glory stood tall- making their presence very known to everyone, especially during the summer months where they would bloom beautifully. Growing up, I was always told to not get too close to them, to be careful as to not hurt myself on their sharp thorns. Many times I had to learn the hard lesson to be mindful when I’d pop a ball or run too close. 

As a young individual, I only knew roses as something to look at, serving no purpose other than to look pretty. As I’ve grown, I’ve learned just how much more a rose can do; it can be turned into medicine to heal ailments, teas to soothe aches and cramps, and ointments to nourish the skin. Nearly all of its parts are edible; the leaf, bud, petals, and rosehips. I’ve come to appreciate all the parts of a rose, not just its obvious beauty. It can do so much more for us.

Marigold

Story by Itxhel Montano, Summer 2023

Marigold, or as I know it, cempazuchitl is a plant that holds a lot of cultural significance. Marigold is used to guide our loved ones that have passed away to our home on the Day of the Dead. Prior to me turning 14 I never really felt a personal connection when it came to this tradition but when I turned 14 everything changed. My paternal grandfather passed away. This was the first death in my family that I had lived through. During this time in my life, I was straying away from my culture and practices. After my grandfather’s passing, I felt that I had to continue the practices he taught me and to honor him in a way I knew he would have loved. 

I helped my mother set up the altar that year and it was very comforting. As we were setting up the altar, I was able to reflect on the memories I had with my grandfather. What I remember most clearly was when I talked to him for the last time before he passed. Despite only talking to him for a minute, he was very happy to hear from me. I noticed how he wanted to respond, but due to how weak he was he wasn’t able to talk back. But that didn’t stop my grandpa from finding other ways to engage in the conversation. Five minutes after we talked, he passed away, but before he passed, he talked to my family about how I had finally called him. This really let me know how important I was to my grandfather and how much he valued family. To this day, I still set up my altar with all of his favorite food. 

Pumpkin

Story by kayla jordan, Summer 2022

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday, and fall has been my favorite season. I often think about the pumpkin I got on a school field trip that I took home and carved, discarding the seeds in the garden. That one pumpkin seeded the following spring and provided many more pumpkins to carve and make into pies for Thanksgiving or Christmas. To this day, decorating the house with skeletons and Jack-O’-Lanterns is still my favorite holiday tradition. The fond memories I share with my family surrounding pumpkins are some of my favorites!

I have always loved the process of making a Jack-O’-Lantern to share with my neighborhood. The first step was to pick the perfect pumpkin! I always like the bright orange ones. I would pick the most extreme sizes, whether super BIG or extremely tiny. Then my brother and I, and occasionally some friends, would gather around the kitchen table lined with newspaper and covered in tools like a big spoon, serrated knives (always to be used with supervision), and permanent markers. We would brainstorm our design ideas together and do a few mockups on paper. The go-to design was typically a silly or spooky face, although some years we’d get creative and write words or draw more complex things. This design was super important! This was going to be on display for the whole neighborhood to see– not to mention any family visitors or folks that lived in more rural areas who would travel to our neighborhood for Trick-or-Treating! After finding the perfect design and gutting the pumpkin, we’d trace our artwork onto the pumpkin in marker and hack away! The more detailed work was always done with a little serrated knife specifically meant for pumpkin carving. Sometimes there were too many people and not enough tools, so we’d get creative with kitchen utensils and craft supplies to make sure our art was perfect. Once it was done, we’d set it out on the porch or in the yard with a tealight in it so we could show off our masterpieces!

The aftermath of pumpkin carving was tedious. To try to avoid wasting the fruit, we’d pick out all the seeds and set them aside to be roasted. The rest would be composted while we rinsed the seeds and tossed them in olive oil and salt. Roasted pumpkin seeds are a savory treat that always came from the fall season! Not all the treats we made from pumpkins were savory though! When we had a surplus of pumpkin from the garden, my mom even baked and puréed the fruit to turn into pumpkin pie! In previous years, we would just buy pumpkin pie filling because it was easy, but making the filling ourselves was fun! We also froze the excess purée (of which there was a lot) to use for future holidays, like Thanksgiving or Christmas!

American fall harvest traditions surrounding the pumpkin have been passed down for centuries, and it is pretty fun to be able to participate in them today! I enjoy the community that surrounds sharing your pumpkin decorations during the season, as well as the family traditions that are shared at the dinner table during fall holidays, like when my family would get together over a massive feast of the unhealthiest possible food, followed always by pumpkin pie for dessert! I love partaking in these pumpkin traditions, and it makes me feel so connected to millions of other people that have shared the same experiences through time!

Hydrangea Macrophylla (White “Annabelle” Hydrangea)

Story by Mikey Parada, Summer 2022

A flower I’ve always adored is the white hydrangea due to its lavish number of petals and wonderfully round shape. It is large, soft, and looks like a cloud on a stem. When I brush the petals and cup the hydrangea in my hands it feels  like holding satin. It was a flower my neighbors would grow every single year and still continue to grow without failure. My grandma and I would go grocery shopping together very often and stop underneath the large hydrangea bush to catch some shade on a hot day. The neighbors would often tell us it was okay to take one or two home because there were just so many that would bloom. My grandma was a little shorter than me so I’d always be the one reaching to get one for her because she loved them so much.

Every time I go to the corner store or on a walk to the park I always pick a fresh hydrangea for her even if she’s not here with me. It’s a flower that represents her and allows me to feel her presence in a way. The hydrangea has become a plant that connects me to my loved one. I have my own definitions for the flower but when searching up what symbolism it carries I found: gratitude, grace, and beauty. In the sense of gratitude, my grandma would always tell me each day how thankful she is for being able to see the sun rise and fall. 

Kumquat tree

Story by Wei-Zen Chen, Summer 2022

During my childhood, there were always two or three pots of kumquat trees in my grandpa's small garden. When the tiny orange fruits started popping up side by side on the tree, we knew the Chinese New Year was around the corner. My grandpa’s garden used to grow pine and cypress, the small pine trees were organized in a line, and the kumquat trees were in the middle. During the Chinese New Year, the Kumquat trees were the ones that brought up the festival color. My cousin and I would tie red ribbons on the twigs, as the red color is the essential color to present Chinese New Year. 

In my culture, the kumquat tree is believed to bring thriving and luck into the family. It can be made for jam and the popular drink, kumquat lemon tea. The special sour and sweet flavors of kumquat are not only tasty, but the high vitamin C and A are also good for our immune system. Kumquat can treat cough, hoarse throat, and congestion. When I caught a cold, I sometimes felt sleepy. My grandpa would wake me up and ask me to come to the kitchen. It was dark outside and everyone was asleep. The only light in the room was a stove light. It was a soft light that only lit me and my grandpa. I would sit down next to the kitchen table and he would make a kumquat tea for me by mixing the homemade kumquat jam with hot water. When I sipped the kumquat tea, I could taste the flavor of the kumquat jam mixing with the honey and lemon. Right away, I could feel a great relief from my runny nose and headache. Though I don’t catch a cold often anymore, on winter nights I always remember the warm sweet kumquat tea and my grandpa.

Cucumber Pelado y Picado

Story by Edwin Quiroz, Summer 2022

Cucumber is a taste and scent that sends me back to some of my most cherished memories. Throughout a long portion of my childhood, my family would visit my parent’s hometown in Mexico every December to celebrate La Guadalupana. One of my core memories is leaving the beautiful Church to stroll around the Plaza with my family. Here we would get fresh fruit and “pepino pelado y picado con chile y limón” or chopped cucumber with lime and chile. The cucumber was always my favorite! I vividly remember the aroma of the cucumber and lime filling the air as the man at the little cart swiftly peeled and chopped. I eagerly accepted the plastic cup filled with green juiciness and watched the musicians nearby play their loud wind instruments. Some kids ran around with balloons, throwing confetti at one another, while others sat and enjoyed ice cream and cotton candy. 

Although we don’t visit Mexico that often anymore, my family has continued to enjoy cucumbers here at home. Every summer we grow our own cucumber plants in our garden and prepare it the same way we’ve always enjoyed it. Having cucumbers at family cookouts and parties is always a must! 

Apart from its delicious taste, I learned that cucumber is also very hydrating, good for skin and hair, helps the kidneys wash out bodily toxins, and it freshens your breath. Cucumber juice contains nutrients like silicon, sulfur, vitamin A, vitamin C, and silica which helps repair and limit thinning hair when applied directly. Eating cucumber is helpful to the kidneys because it lowers uric acid levels, helps dissolve kidney stones, and remove other toxins from your body. Cucumbers contain a lot of water and phytochemicals which is why they are so hydrating and help kill bacteria causing bad breath. After learning about these facts I look forward to snacking on more cucumber and trying it out on my luscious locks.

Vigna Unguiculata (Black Eyed Beans)

Story by Ikram Isa, Summer 2022

Black eyed beans, like many legumes, grow in pods. With its cream colour and dark center, these plants are part of the Fabaceae family from the Vigna genus.  My earliest memories of planting were actually with black eyed beans in repurposed soda bottles at home. I remember how quick the plant was to begin sprouting and how excited I became at its first appearance and early development. I admired the contrast between the dark soil and the luscious green of the plant. And I recall how my parents would use the beans as a counting tool to help me learn how to add and subtract when I was in kindergarten. We would spread the beans out on the carpet in my parents room and slowly push the beans one by one into a pile; “one, two, three, four…”. This makes me reflect on how easy it is to repurpose the resources we have at home in meaningful ways.

Black eyed beans are native to subtropical countries as they require long warm summers. Nigeria is one of the ideal locations for growing black eyed beans. Consequently, this bean is especially important in the Hausa community in Nigeria, where I am from, during the month of Ramadan. During this month, muslims (a large majority of Hausa people are muslim) fast from dawn till dusk. A very popular meal that Hausa people break their fast with is kunu, a millet pouarge, and kosai. Kosai is made from black eyed beans that have been soaked, peeled, blended with peppers and other seasonings, and then fried into flat balls. 

With its high protein and fiber content, kosai is quite the perfect food to break one's fast with. But even beyond its nutritional value, kunu and kosai have a significance in the community as they are typically eaten in a group setting– with family members and close friends. Plus, the process of making these foods is a bit extensive and will often require the help of multiple people. I remember that when we would make kosai in our house, two people would sit on the floor and peel the beans together from one bowl while conversing with each other and those around them. This ultimately contributes to the feeling of community.

Rosas

Story by Carmen Estrada, Summer 2022

Even when we were running late for mass, my mother always made sure we stopped by the store to get roses. My mom has always loved plants so she always made sure to pick the best she could find. Two bouquets, one for La Virgencita at church and one for our  home. I never understood my mothers fascination with plants, but I did appreciate it. In my house there were always jars with plants in water or pots where my mother’s new plants were supposed to go. My mother isn’t very good with plants, but that never made her stop caring for them. I was also told that my father would always bring my mother roses in the youth of their romance, perhaps that’s why she loves them so much. Every big holiday, birthday, or special occasion they would always be there and I grew to love them as well.

Every 12th of December, we would make a journey to the shrine of La Virgen. Flowers in hand, we would place the roses in one of the many vases with water and light a candle. I still didn’t get why roses were such a big deal to my mom. So I curiously decided to ask her and my mom  told me that when she was a child her mama would bring her with her to pick flowers to leave at La Virgen’s altar. When my mother and I immigrated here, we left a lot of things without doubt, but till this day, my mom still stops to pick up flowers to bring to La Virgen. This is the  way she stayed connected to her family and  her home. I now think of my family, my homeland, my cultura whenever I see roses. I enjoy being around plants, because of roses and my mom. 

Violets

Story by Johanna Taylor, Summer 2022

The LGBTQIA community is the community I feel closest to, and having a flower to illustrate a part of my identity is very meaningful to me. 

When researching different plants, I thought to myself “I wonder if Queer people have plant stories” and after 30 seconds I found out there was! There are six different flowers that have a story and act of resistance. Finding a flower that is a part of my history made me feel celebrated.

From that research I found that Lesbians have a plant, the Violet flower. How Violets came to represent WLW was in 1926, a female character in Édouard Bourdet’s play “The Captive,” sent a bouquet of violets to another female character, as a romantic gesture. The New York City district attorney’s office faced many backlashes and shut down the production. Sadly, the sale of violets plummeted because of what the flower now represented. In protest of this uproar, some women wore violets on their lapels. Later, when the pride flag was created violet was added to portray spirit. I find it really sentimental that a plant connected to a group of women/ people who could not publicly express themselves still found a way to be loud. As a lesbian it can be fearsome to just hold your partner’s hand, so I really cherish the friendships I have with other queer people where we support one another and create safe spaces to be our most authentic selves.

Learning about Queer history is so important to me because of the lessons and advice I am able to receive from those who did it before me. Through them, I am reminded that being genuine and happy is resistance. There is a deep intersection between marginalized groups and plants and I believe that needs to be explored more. Our history can help us grow and heal from struggles that are still impacting us today and we should have a healthier relationship with our home, and a more reciprocal relationship where we sustain and unite one another. Such as with violets they help inflammation and can make a nice sleep blend tea, and we can honor them by sharing their history.

Ultimately, I am very glad I was able to sit down and research a part of our history and now I wanna give all my friends and family’s bouquet of Violets.

My Grandmother’s Off Tangent Sustainable Story

Story by Abuelita Teresa & Granddaughter Zully Morales, 2020

There are moments in my life and maybe yours when we all look at the fridge and stare at it for a long time. Sometimes we stare for a while and say or think, “There’s nothing in the fridge.” In reality my fridge has leftovers and vegetables that I’m foreign to cook with. This whole “there’s nothing to eat,” is not practiced by my grandmother. When she opens the fridge, she’ll find a way to re-cook the food or make something new by combining whatever is in the fridge. Her past experiences and creative mind has led her to have a sustainable diet. 

When I asked my grandmother when she began to practice a sustainable lifestyle she didn’t know that it had a name to her past experiences. She told her story and she went on tangents to where it all began. 

My grandmother lived on a ranch somewhere in Mexico. She didn't have access to supermarkets or convenience stores. She had to look for vegetation around her ranch such as corn, nopales, and vergolada. It was hard labor to collect but she and her children had fun. To pick out vergolada, she instructed her children to only pick out tender stems that are thin and branch out in abundance. My grandmother mentioned that weather was an aspect of what they would eat on that certain day. If it was raining everyone would hunt for mushrooms to cook later.  

I asked her where she learned all her knowledge and she said it was learned by doing all of the cooking with her mother. My great grandmother would recycle any glass jar to pickle carrots and jalapeños, also known as chiles en vinagre. Then they would cook on an ecological stove known as “estufa ecologica.” This stove does not require gas and uses less wooden sticks. My grandmother liked using this because the fumes from cooking would travel through the stove chimney. 

When she moved to Chicago, it was hard to adapt to the urban lifestyle. She could not harvest vegetables or exchange corn for other vegetables. The adaptation she decided to take was to use everything she had in her fridge and cook everything instead of tossing food away. Interestingly, she doesn’t like to eat meat often and would rather eat vegetables everyday to remember her lifestyle back home in Mexico.

The healing tomatillo

Story collected by Zuleyma Morales, 2021 from Pedro

Pedro is my father and when he was young he liked getting his ears pierced. Unfortunately, his ear got infected with pus. He experienced headaches from the pain and didn’t feel like going to the hospital since the infection wasn’t big and he didn’t want to pay a high medical bill. His grandmother’s friend told him to take a tomatillo and squeeze it on his infected ear. 

This helped his infected ear and he was able to heal from the remedio casero shared with him. He was grateful to learn this remedy since he was unable to learn from his mother. This remedy was passed down to me because, just like my father, I pierced my ears and got an infection. The healing tomatillo is a reminder that there are remedies that are sustainable and have a history of cultural practice. 

In the future, consider learning about your family or individual home remedies.

Sprouting Mung Beans - a practice in sustainability

Story by Grace Fick, 2021

Bean sprouts have always been a staple in almost all of my dishes growing up. Bean sprouts, also known as mung bean sprouts, are usually grown in high humidity, low sunlight areas. These are mostly used in Eastern and Southeastern Asia and are used in a myriad of ways in the kitchen. For example, they are used as garnishes in many soup dishes such as Phở or Khao Piak, which are common Vietnamese and Laotian cuisine. Growing up in a Vietnamese and Laotian household, bean sprouts came in all shapes and sizes and appeared all throughout my house. When my grandmother or mother would make my favorite soup, Phở, I would reach and grab as much bean sprouts as my little hand could fit and mix it into my soup. With the addition of these sprouts, there was a crunch with every spoonful. Along with soups, bean sprouts can appear in noodle dishes such as Vietnamese noodle salad or different types of stir-fried noodles. They don’t have much nutritional sustenance or much flavor, but I always liked the satisfying crunch it gave with every bite. 

As a little girl, I would accompany my mother and grandmother to any local Asian store and every single time, I always saw one of them reach into a big plastic bag to get out a bag full of fresh bean sprouts. However, I always wondered if it could be grown at our own home. My family and I use bean sprouts pretty regularly, so my mom and I took it upon ourselves to try and grow bean sprouts at home. Because my mother and I had never attempted to grow anything like this before, we took to the internet to find some fascinating information about its growing patterns, needs and more. From here, we discovered that we can take the curved part of the bean sprouts, or mung beans, and place them in a moist environment with little to no sunlight and boom, bean sprouts will grow. This method can also be replicated with mung bean seeds as well. So, my mom took some stems of the bean sprouts, placed them in a bowl, with a damp towel placed over it, along with a plastic bag wrapped around it. This would help create a damp and high humidity environment, which is ideal for them to grow in. During the morning, afternoon and evening, we would lightly pour water around the bowl, nourishing the baby bean sprouts and then wrap it back up and place it in our pantry. After about a few weeks of this, we would have bean sprouts that are ready to use in our dishes and we didn’t even need to spend money on them. 

Ever since my mom and I learned this technique a couple years ago, we haven’t bought bean sprouts since. It has always been so interesting to me how the produce and fruits we buy and consume at grocery stores can be grown right in our own homes. With this in mind, this is a sustainable practice that I hope to continue with my mother and future generations as it helps me not only learn more growing techniques, but also get in touch with my own heritage. Moreover, it opens up conversations about the practices that my mother, grandmother and their ancestors cultivated crops before immigrating to the United States. 

The diverse uses of Banana Leaf

Story by Grace Fick, 2021

Banana leaves are more than just the protective layer of any Southeastern Asian sweet treat. They come in different colors and sizes and are used in most traditional cooking procedures. With their tough and rugged exterior, they can be used as a casing or even mats for preparing meals. One of my grandmother’s favorite Laotian desserts, Khao Thoum, is a sweet sticky rice, soaked in condensed milk, and then wrapped in warm banana leaves. This nostalgic treat reminds me of my grandmother because when I was little, I remember helping my grandmother make them. I would stand on a chair next to her and put a spoonful of the sweet sticky rice onto the banana leaves. Then my grandmother would wrap everything up with brown rope and place them into a bamboo steam basket. This tradition of making Khao Thoum is one that I will always cherish with my grandmother. Even though I don’t enjoy this Laotian delicacy as much, I appreciate the memories I’ve made with her and the potential of passing this recipe down to future generations. Aside from sweet dishes made with banana leaves, there are also many savory dishes such as Mok Pa. This easy dish is a very common dish that has fish wrapped into banana leaves and then steamed. This dish, like many others, are culinary staples that spread across Laotian regions and cultural generations. 

All of these dishes make up a large portion of Laotian cuisine as we don’t use utensils to eat. We use our hands for almost all meals, and the use of banana leaves preserves that. Apart from using banana leaves to steam foods or as canvases to cook, they also have health benefits when consumed. This incorporation of various vegetables is a staple in Laotian culture and these leaves are no exception. They contain various polyphenols, which are natural antioxidants, potassium and various vitamins.

Even when cooking in the kitchen with my grandmother, there will be times where banana leaves don’t serve as an ingredient. Rather, they serve as a plate or protection when cooking. For example, when cooking one of my favorite Laotian dishes, Kopiak, my grandmother makes and cuts the dough on banana leaves to protect our granite countertops. I have also seen her cut her favorite fruits with banana leaves under her to catch anything that falls. This unique tradition allows my grandmother to feel like she is still in her village in Laos and maintain that sense of culture while being thousands of miles away.

Bamboo Baskets

Story by Grace Fick, 2021

Bamboo is the building block of many Southeastern and Eastern Asian cuisines, medicine, infrastructure and so much more. It makes up the smallest and largest pieces of Asian culture. Growing up in a Laotian and Vietnamese household, there was bamboo everywhere. Bamboo plants were the essence of every room, kitchen utensils, bowls, plates and even a body roller in my house. To me, bamboo isn’t just a plant that signifies good luck and fortune, it represents community within my family and for many other Southeastern Asian families. The bamboo baskets I have in my house and the ones we use during family dinners are the very ones that my grandmother and grandfather brought from Laos. To me, they provide a connection to my heritage and a home away from home. 

The sense of community, derived from bamboo, holds significance in the form of bamboo rice baskets. Traditionally, these baskets, or houat,  are used to hold sticky rice, also known as Khao Niew, a cultural delicacy native to Southeast and East Asia and the essence of almost every Laotian dish. Growing up, I was always surrounded by bamboo baskets at the dinner table. They were found in all sizes and were decorated in different colors. During big family gatherings, almost every meal is paired with sticky rice, thus these bamboo baskets were always at the table, spread around. These baskets are significant to my family because I always remember everyone sticking their hands into all of the baskets to get some. As a little girl, the sticky rice was always so steaming and fresh, so my mom would scoop a big spoonful for me. I always knew that when my mother brought out the rice baskets, the family was coming over. This brought me great comfort, happiness and thankfulness just to be eating and spending time with my family. 

Houat description

These sticky rice baskets are interlaced with strains of bamboo with very intricate weaving and some strains of bamboo painted green, red, or black. The baskets range from being as small as a coffee cup to as big as a crockpot. There is a bottom part, made up of bamboo, which is also made up of interlaced bamboo. Then tied to that is a string that connects the bottom part to the top so the lid can be opened or closed at any time. Then with extra strips of bamboo, they are cut and stuck together to create a thicker bamboo pole to be added as a rim on the bottom of the basket. Bamboo is used for this reason because it releases the steam from the sticky rice and doesn’t build up the heat. The bamboo also allows for the flow of air outside, while allowing the rice to be fresh and warm for those to enjoy for hours after. 

Relationships with Plant Cultivation

Story by Danay Barrera, Summer 2020

Plant cultivation, while important to the subsistence of human life, can have some negative connotations for individuals and entire groups of people. For Black folks descendent from enslaved people in the U.S, plant cultivation can be a reminder of the weaponization of nature against them through the evils of slavery from the 18th and 19th centuries and every wound inflicted to their community since then. To migrants who in their place of origin were left no choice but to produce their own food because they could not afford to buy it, it can be a reminder of their hardships with poverty. These are some of the reasons shared by my coworkers at the Heritage Garden as to why their families were less than happy to hear that they were gardening or had aspirations to farm. Being that I enjoy gardening and that I plan to make it a significant part of my future, I was curious to see what my mom’s relationship to gardening/farming was and how she felt about my relationship with it.

My mom grew up in a small village in Mexico. I knew from visits to my mom’s village that many of the men worked the lands cultivating different crops and raising livestock. She told me what it was like growing up in a village of cultivators. Contrary to what I believed, it was not just the men of the village who farmed. The women and children would get involved as well. They grew sesame plants, corn, sugarcane, and sometimes melon. My mom would go with the rest of the kids to clear land, sow seeds, and weed. The growing season for corn started when the rainy season came starting in July. In November and December, they would harvest the corn. January and February was when they would degrain the corn husks. April-July was melon season when mostly the women worked until it was time for the men to harvest.

While my mom didn’t enjoy working the lands because of the arduous work, she liked that it gave her an opportunity to hang out with her friends. And while she didn’t have much experience with gardening, she did speak fondly of my great-grandmother who had a plethora of plants in her garden. She said that my great-grandmother had any plant that you could think of in her garden. My mom remembers that my great-grandmother grew tomatoes, peppers, bananas, sugar cane, alegria, epazote, marigolds, and anise. She had all the herbs you would need to make remedies and all of the knowledge you would need to make those remedies. She also knew how to make candles from bananas, homemade candies, and cheese. Everything she needed was in her backyard.

I asked her if she had any reservations about me gardening given her relationship with plant cultivation. She said she was okay with what I was doing. She believes that it is better to grow your own food because the more natural, the better the taste and the better it is health-wise. That’s why she’s drawn to organic produce in the grocery store. My mom likes planting flowers in front of our house every year. She says that she likes the beauty aspect of it. Now that plant cultivation isn’t a job for her, she enjoys it. What’s more, she aspires to be like my great-grandmother with all of her plants and all of her knowledge. That is something my mom and I have in common.

Mustard Greens

Story by Amber Lewis, Summer 2021

“I only bought three bunches this time because they looked pretty big,” my mom says as she enters the back door to our house. I get up from the living room to help her with the grocery bags, placing them on the clean kitchen counters before helping her put her purchases away. In one bag, there are visible tufts of green poking out from the top, exposing fresh bunches of mustard greens. For this bag, I simply open the chilling cabinet in the fridge and lay them inside.

“I’m not sure if this is going to be enough, ma,” I begin. “You know dad always eats up the whole pot.”

“Yeah, he does, but I think with the cornbread and chicken we should be fine.” 

It’s Saturday, and the season in question is irrelevant because this is an almost weekly conversation. In the Lewis household, greens are made almost as often as water is drunk. The process to make them is almost ritualistic and needs to happen as soon as possible because Mom always wants dinner done before 2PM on Sundays so she won’t have to cook at the peak of the day, just like how my grandma used to do it when she was younger. After resting from running errands earlier, my mom asks for the same four things: a stock pot, a plastic bag, a long, sharp cutting knife, and the bag of greens that was placed in the fridge. 

On some of these days, I grab a knife and help my mom cut the rough part of the stems off the greens to make sure they don’t come out as bitter. We sit on the couches in the living room, hunched over our pots as I talk about my boy problems, or my goals for the future, or anything else that’s been going on in my life. We laugh and exchange ideas while the greens are “picked” one by one, making sure to place the stems in the plastic bag and the completed greens in the other. When all of that is done, the knives get washed and the greens are placed in the sink, where they’ll be washed thoroughly before going into another clean pot with meat cuttings and seasonings for flavor. 

My family isn’t the most closely connected to our culture. While I know where some of my family comes from-- my dad’s side branching from Arkansas on his mom’s side and my mom’s family mainly coming from the south around Shaw, Mississippi-- we don’t have many special traditions to connect us to our roots. However, Sunday meal planning is something that is the closest thing to a tradition that my family has. The rich, earthy scent of simmering mustard greens perfuming my house is ritualistic to my nose. Along with this scent, my arms sting with the pain of stirring cornbread batter while the heat in the kitchen wraps us in warmth-- or, suffocates us in heat, depending on the season. 

I never get too upset about my roots, though; the muddled scent of mustard greens mixed with buttery, sweet cornbread is a reminder that I have found a family that extends past my home. Whether it be from the richness of collard greens and savory cornbread that come from a restaurant with origins in the deep south, or whether it be at my friends’ houses, who aren’t aware of their origins but they know that the recipe has been passed down for centuries, it makes me smile to know that somewhere along the way we might have still been close, or crossed paths somewhere.

Mexican Criollo Avocado: An Evolution and Culture Marker

Story by Stephanie Villagomez, Summer 2021 

Also considered an alligator pear and scientifically named Persea americana variation drymifolia, the Mexican Criollo Avocado is significantly important in my family due to its abundant presence and use in my life and that of close loved ones. I feel connected to this plant because of its sweet and savory taste, creamy consistency, and accessibility, and because it was planted in my grandfather’s house and always provided us with shade and fruit to enjoy together. 

As a child, when I visited Mexico, I remember always going up some big stairs to the rooftop to approach the avocado tree in my grandparent’s house. The steps were very high and I struggled a little bit to get to the top. Yet, once there, I felt powerful and eager to approach the avocado tree. My cousins and I were often sent to pick fruit from the tree before starting to eat and they never failed to satisfy us. We would approach the tree and carefully reach over and feel for ripe avocados. Their pit was huge and lacked meat so we would pick plenty. Their skin was smooth, thin, and rubbery. I would take one in my hand and squeeze it gently. I knew they were ready to eat, when they felt somewhat bland, yet not mushy. After picking them we would head down to my grandpa’s kitchen where my mom, aunt’s, and grandfather were serving themselves Caldo de Res. We would start to cut avocados into small squares and add them into our Caldo. We’d pass the avocados around for everyone to have some. The weather outside was warm and the avocados gave our caldo a fresh and creamy taste. I would make sure every scoop of caldo had a piece of avocado in it, to combat the heat. 

Not only did the tree provide us with food, but it also provided us with shade and comfort. I remember seeing my grandfather's hammock tied to the tree and a side of the wall in which I loved to lay and swing on. When we arrived and did not see him anywhere inside the house, we’d find him on the rooftop by the tree or on the hammock, swinging with ease. It was a support for our nutritious needs, but for our personal relaxation and comfort. 

There are over 50 types of avocados and interestingly enough, Mexican Avocado production is predominant in Michoacan, Mexico accounting for 92%. Michoacan is very close to Yuriria, Guanajuato, where both of my parents and grandparents are from. Their origance is known to be from south-central Mexico. Avocados are also considered “an evolutionary anachronism” because their prime dates back to the beginning of the Cenozoic Era when this fruit attracted megafauna which would eat avocados whole, travel far distances, and defecate, leaving behind a tree that many years later, continues to exist and produce fruit of its own. When I ask my mom who planted the avocado tree that lives in my grandfather’s house, she says she doesn't know but that it has been there since she can remember. I wonder if this then, is how it got to my grandfather’s backyard. 

Mexican Criollo Avocados are culturally significant to my family because one of these trees resides in my grandparent’s house and they’re emotionally significant in bringing back memories of past loved ones and the sharing and enjoyment of these fruits together. Its taste and strength provided outstanding nurturance and support for my passed loved ones and I. Now, when I eat these, I remember my grandfather, his hammock, the adventure that led to scooping some in our Caldo, as well as the role evolution plays in cultivation.

Millet

Story by Najmin Isa, Summer 2021

Growing up I remember my mom making a custard like drink called Kunu, made with millet flour, lime, and hot water, during the month of Ramadan. The sweet hint of lime would fill the house as the sun began to set and we were about to break our fast. As we sat around the food on our parlor floor, Kunu was one of the first things I would reach for. My favorite is when my mom makes it ever so slightly spicy by adding dried peppers to the blended powder. The mix between spicy, sweet, and sour really wakes your stomach up after a long day of fasting. The taste always reminded me of a ginger shot as the thick drink passes through your throat.

Traditionally, this millet drink was a popular breakfast food across the northern part of Nigeria, but as time went on a lot of people started making Kunu only once in a while. This shift was mainly attributed to the lack of convenience of making the drink each morning. I have made several attempts to make Kunu on my own by following all the steps: grinding up the millet and sifting it to attain a fine powder, then adding a little bit of water and lime to create a batter. And lastly, hot water and sugar is added which makes the drink nice and thick. But I always end up with a consistency that is watery and just lacks that thick richness. If we already have the powdered millet at home, it takes me about an hour or so to make, but if we don’t, which is usually the case, I have to follow the steps from scratch which takes me close to 3 hours which is probably longer than the time it takes most people. The process can be daunting, even though the steps seem relatively simple, and now that people have access to foods that are a lot more convenient to prepare, they are making Kunu less than they used to.  In the past, women dedicated a lot of their time during the day to just cooking, but now women don’t just stay at home, they have busy lives outside of the house so going through such a process in the morning is not feasible.

This plant, millet, has been frequently used in my culture. There are different types of millets that are grown around the world, and the type that is most commonly used in my family and culture is called pearl millet. It is a little darker than some of the other types and is a nutritious grain with excellent protein levels.

Now most families make the millet drink once in a while. Every year during Ramadan, my family makes a lot of food each day to give out to the community. This form of giving is what we call sadaqa in Hausa. And a staple food that we make to give out each year without fail is Kunu. I can’t remember a Ramadan that has passed by without having the millet drink, and at this point it has become somewhat of a comfort food for me. It reminds me of how fortunate I am to have my family and give back to the community. And this isn’t something that only my parents started doing, the tradition dates back many generations, so the millet grain has a special place in my heart both traditionally and personally.

Potatoes

Story by Penny Burke, Summer 2021

Nearly everything I know about any one of my ethnic identities is information that I have sought out and taught myself. Truthfully, my cultural heritage (or lack thereof) is a bit of a touchy subject for me. As far as I’m aware, my great grandparents were all American born. With this, my families have assimilated, adapted to American culture, and traded in the traditions of their homeland for white privilege. It saddens me immensely to feel so disconnected from my own cultures. The ethnicity I identify most closely with is my Irish heritage. 

Potatoes in particular, are immensely significant to Irish cultural heritage. Though potatoes are actually native to the Andes Mountain range in South America, they became particularly useful in the globalized world, especially in Ireland, where the growing conditions were ideal for a potato-dominant agricultural system. In light of the political state at the time (around 1845) in which Britain ruled over and oppressed Irish farmers and workers, a lack of knowledge about plant biodiversity led to the Great Famine. A “blight” (or fungus) destroyed a potato crop which supported virtually all Irish peoples’ diet, and this event spiraled into a prolonged national disaster worsened by an intentional lack of support by British lords causing one of the largest migrant crises in European history, and the deaths of a quarter of the population. The influence of the Great Famine still lives on in the culture today. The famine symbolized the desire for Irish Nationalists to gain sovereignty and independence from England, and serves as a historical example of colonial genocide, which naturally left its marks on countless generations. While potatoes are still a staple in Ireland, they are revered as a symbol of adaptability, resilience, and strength of the Irish people.

One cultural practice involving potatoes that I’ve always cherished is cooking corned beef, cabbage, potatoes, and carrots as a celebratory meal for St. Patrick’s Day. I have memories of eating this dish on chilly, windy, St. Patrick’s days past at my grandparents’ house on the south side. The meal (plus hefty rounds of drinks for the older family) kept everyone warm as we’d head out to celebrate at the South Side Irish Parade. As I got older, I began to ponder my cultural connections in a deeper and more emotional way. In order to forge the connections that had been lost, I again turned to food. I show my love through acts of service, like feeding people. So, it only seemed natural that I would become re-conneced to my culture by exploring traditional foods. To me, mashed potatoes have always been a pure comfort food, reminiscent of home and holidays. My discovery of Colcannon (Irish mashed potatoes) was crucial in my journey of cultural exploration. This dish, heavy with cream, butter, golden potatoes and cruciferous vegetables of choice (leeks, cabbage, kale) is consoling and adds a depth of flavor and nutrition that regular mashed potatoes simply don’t achieve. Now that I’m 21, I’m able to explore the Irish pub scene in Chicago and try the dishes there, and in many of those potatoes are the star. 

For me, although I still struggle with where I stand in my identity as an Irish person, I feel proud knowing that I have access to a crop that is so crucial to the Irish identity and history. It is a conduit of reconnecting to cultural heritage that I have been disconnected from, finding personal enrichment, and spiritual reconnection to my ancestors.