Frybread

This seemingly simple food is a complicated symbol in Navajo culture

  • By Jen Miller
  • Smithsonian magazine, July 2008, Subscribe
 
powwow meal of frybread
A frybread meal at a Navajo powwow. (Jen Miller)

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Dwayne Lewis, who learned the frybread tradition from his grandmother, has staked his economic survival on the food. In November 2006, after selling frybread for years on the powwow circuit, he and his brother Sean opened their restaurant, Arizona Native Frybread, in Mesa. The inside of the cafe has a fast food feel, with plastic booths and an open kitchen. At the counter, you can buy Native American newspapers and "Men and Women of the Navajo" calendars, featuring film and rock stars. The restaurant menu includes traditional Navajo dishes like hominy stew (made with chili, hominy corn and lamb) and a variety of frybread sandwiches, including "Native American tacos" made with green and red chili and beans. Each sandwich is wrapped in an enormous slice of frybread and costs between $6 and $8. The restaurant offers a single slice of frybread for $3.59. These prices are much higher than on reservations, where it's possible to buy a Navajo taco from a road side stand for under $5.

After a year of business, Arizona Native Frybread is struggling. But Lewis is undeterred. "There are very few independent Native American businesses," he says. For Lewis, frybread is a source of pride, because it has allowed him to escape the poverty of the reservation and pursue his dream of becoming an entrepreneur. He has little concern for the frybread controversy or, for that matter, the bread's symbolic value. His is a utilitarian equation. Frybread tastes good. Everybody wants it. So he is selling it.


On Dwayne Lewis's first night home on the reservation in northeastern Arizona, he sat in the kitchen, watching his mother prepare dinner. Etta Lewis, 71, set the cast iron skillet on the burner, poured in corn oil, and lit the stove. She began moving a ball of dough back and forth between her hands, until she'd formed a large pancake. She then pierced a hole in the center of the pancake with the back of her thumb, and laid it in the skillet. The bread puffed, and Etta turned it once with the fork, and flipped it over. It's not easy to fashion the perfect piece of frybead, but it had only taken Etta a few seconds to do it. She'd been making the food for so long that the work seemed part of her.

For Lewis and many other Native Americans, frybread links generation with generation and also connects the present to the painful narrative of Native American history. Navajo frybread originated 144 years ago, when the United States forced Indians living in Arizona to make the 300-mile journey known as the "Long Walk" and relocate to New Mexico, onto land that couldn't easily support their traditional staples of vegetables and beans. To prevent the indigenous populations from starving, the government gave them canned goods as well as white flour, processed sugar and lard—the makings of frybread.

Frybread appears to be nothing more than fried dough—like an unsweetened funnel cake, but thicker and softer, full of air bubbles and reservoirs of grease—but it is revered by some as a symbol of Native pride and unity. Indian rocker Keith Secola celebrates the food in his popular song "Frybread." In Sherman Alexie's award-winning film Smoke Signals, one character wears a "Frybread Power" T-shirt. Bothmen call frybread today's most relevant Native American symbol. They say the food's conflicted status—it represents both perseverance and pain—reflects these same elements in Native American history. "Frybread is the story of our survival," says Alexie.

And yet, this cultural unifier is also blamed for contributing to high levels of diabetes and obesity on reservations. One slice of frybread the size of a large paper plate has 700 calories and 25 grams of fat, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture. In some Native American communities, like the Gila River Pima tribe outside Tucson, Arizona, health service workers estimate that over half the adult population suffers from diabetes. Chaleen Brewer is a nutritionist at the Genesis Diabetes Prevention Program based in the Gila River capital of Sacaton. She says commodity foods like processed cheese, potted meats, and the lard used in making frybread are partly responsible for a "diabetes epidemic" among her people. As Secola puts it, "frybread has killed more Indians than the federal government."

Why are some Native Americans so eager to celebrate a food that represents the brutality of the past and may be harming them in the present? One reason is the food's central role in powwows, intertribal fairs that bring together native artists, religious leaders, musicians—and food vendors. Throughout the 19th century, the Federal government often prohibited intertribal gatherings, and as proud expressions of Indian identity, today's powwows are partly a reaction against that past suppression. Many powwows host frybread competitions, and you'll typically find long lines at frybread stands. Last winter, Leonard Chee, a high-school history teacher who works part-time as a frybread vendor, drove his concessions trailer 330 miles from the Navajo capital in Window Rock to the Thunder in the Desert Powwow in Tucson, Arizona. Eating a slice of frybread at a powwow is like "absorbing everything about the event," he says, adding: "A powwow won't function without frybread."

Chee grew up on the Navajo reservation in Arizona, outside Window Rock. On this reservation, which spans 27,000 square miles of northern Arizona and extends into Utah and New Mexico, some 43 percent of the 180,000 residents live below the federal poverty line, according to Navajo Nation statistics. Unemployment stands at 42 percent. Nearly 32 percent of homes lack plumbing. As a child, Chee sometimes subsisted on frybread. When he says "frybread is Navajo life," he insists he is not glorifying his childhood poverty but accounting for a shared experience of adversity. "Frybread connects tribes," Chee says.

The food's complicated significance was highlighted in 2005 when Indian writer and activist Suzan Shown Harjo led a crusade against frybread in the newspaper Indian Country Today. "Frybread is emblematic of the long trails from home and freedom to confinement and rations," Harjo wrote. "It's the connecting dot between healthy children and obesity, hypertension, diabetes, dialysis, blindness, amputations, and slow death. If frybread were a movie, it would be hard-core porn. No redeeming qualities. Zero nutrition."

The article provoked a flurry of blog posts, letters and follow-up columns from Indians indignant at the attack on such a significant food. Secola believes that Harjo has turned frybread into a scapegoat for the larger problems afflicting reservations, such as the lack of healthful food, nutritional education and good access to health care. He also says it is unrealistic to eradicate a food that holds so much cultural power for Native Americans. The theme of his song "Frybread" is perseverance against oppression. The lyrics describe how the culinary police—Colonel Sanders, Captain Crunch, and Major Rip-Off—try to steal frybread from the people. "But they couldn't keep the people down," Secola sings, "because born to the people was a Frybread Messiah, who said ‘You can't do much with sugar, flour, lard and salt. But you can add one fundamental ingredient: love.'" "Frybread" the song, like frybread the food, is about making something out of nothing.

Dwayne Lewis, who learned the frybread tradition from his grandmother, has staked his economic survival on the food. In November 2006, after selling frybread for years on the powwow circuit, he and his brother Sean opened their restaurant, Arizona Native Frybread, in Mesa. The inside of the cafe has a fast food feel, with plastic booths and an open kitchen. At the counter, you can buy Native American newspapers and "Men and Women of the Navajo" calendars, featuring film and rock stars. The restaurant menu includes traditional Navajo dishes like hominy stew (made with chili, hominy corn and lamb) and a variety of frybread sandwiches, including "Native American tacos" made with green and red chili and beans. Each sandwich is wrapped in an enormous slice of frybread and costs between $6 and $8. The restaurant offers a single slice of frybread for $3.59. These prices are much higher than on reservations, where it's possible to buy a Navajo taco from a road side stand for under $5.

After a year of business, Arizona Native Frybread is struggling. But Lewis is undeterred. "There are very few independent Native American businesses," he says. For Lewis, frybread is a source of pride, because it has allowed him to escape the poverty of the reservation and pursue his dream of becoming an entrepreneur. He has little concern for the frybread controversy or, for that matter, the bread's symbolic value. His is a utilitarian equation. Frybread tastes good. Everybody wants it. So he is selling it.


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Use the same ingredients and make Navajo tortilla instead. Use a makeshift grill over the electic grill or heated skillet.

Posted by MARVIN CLING, SR. on November 8,2011 | 06:02 PM

Our family or five have visited Monument Valley a number of times. This one time there was a Navaho woman and her daughter selling a cooked dough. Not knowing what it was,we spent time finding out what the fried dough was about. Each of us ordered one and while i was waiting the rest of the family went to the car. Selecting one of the shakers sitting on the table I coated them liberally. We all took a hugh bite out of each of the fried doughs. Surprise I had picked up the salt container instead of the sugar. Needless to say it was a profitable day for them as we reordered and enjoyed every bight Duane Rose

Posted by duane Rose on October 21,2011 | 08:50 PM

My husband is the frybread maker in our house. His recipe came from a vision. We have shared it with many people.

Marsha(White Eagle Feather, Swafford

Posted by Marsha Swafford on April 21,2011 | 06:05 PM

@Timbo, yes! "Poverty and ignorance cause poor dietary choices in all of us, not just Native Americans." These are the enemies, not an occasional frybread. This article leads me to the question, What am I doing about poverty and ignorance among the folks who can most benefit from learning and better opportunities?

Posted by Jerry McIntire on March 25,2011 | 11:45 AM

I have lived among the Apaches & Navajo, but I myself am a Nez Perce from the norther tribes. Besides being a native, I am a Cook who is facinated by the various breads that our tribes have. The process of a Navajo frybread is different from the nothern tribes, it is larger & fluffier, whereas the north it is more dense. I rarely get to get an authentic Navajo frybread unless I visit a pow wow where an authentic Navajo is preparing it, you can tell the difference! They should do an article on the other types of breads that are healthy, some made with blue corn, some are bannock breads, or some are made on the ashes of a fire. Our natives have had to be creative with the ways we prepare our food. Would love to see more articles!

Posted by Jeanette Jackson on October 24,2010 | 04:17 PM

For so many years my family made this wonderful bread that has since become a guilty pleasure, but I had no idea of its history. My knowledge of my father's family history is very limited and I don't believe they have ever lived on a reservation; however, they evidently carry on many of their Native American traditional culinary habits, including hominy stew. Thank you so much for the history.

Posted by Joyce Carr on October 9,2010 | 07:51 AM

Interesting article. I just had fry bread today on my reservation, Tule River, to honor a Navajo Code Talker we had as guest of honor. He was so grateful as were the attendees.It is well known that fry bread makers are held in high esteem throughout Indian Country, no matter what tribe.
Please, the thought of using wheat flour and olive oil in the dough would make my mother turn over in her grave, it would be that sacrilegious. Some things are best left alone, or why bother. We make them for special occasions and they are as harmful as an occasional doughnut.
I have beautiful memories of my now deceased mother and I making the dough together, frying it up and serving it to our families, it is a labor of love, as are many comfort foods. Sometimes to make extra money, we would hook up our little Indian Taco wagon and drag it to events here in Central California, so tired at the end of the day, we could hardly stand. Somehow the recipe now is never as good as mother's, nonetheless, I think I will warm up my leftover fry bread and slather it with honey, yum!

Posted by Linda Santiago Peterson on November 7,2009 | 07:41 PM

Frybread as a "story of survival" reminds me of nothing else than the use of unleavened bread (matza) by the Hebrews escaping their enslavement in ancient Egypt. The story of this food, repeated at the holiday of Passover until this very day during the annual Seder supper, centers around eating "the bread of our affliction" baked in the rush to flee to freedom. It is both a beloved symbol and a beloved food used to make matza balls for chicken soup and other favorite Jewish dishes. A bit like eating a form of cement, we look forward to eating it during the required 8 days of Passover(and even during the year-buttered matza with a dash of salt is a comfort food) as much as we look forward to not eating it and returning to digesttion. Reading about Frybread created a connection and a level of understanding I had not had before. Thank you.

Posted by FBarrow on November 6,2009 | 11:05 AM

when i was young my mom could,nt afford to buy me stuff for my field trip with school so she made these stuffed bannoch about four of them stuffed with hamburger rice an tomatoes on are way on are trip my teachers seen what i was eating and were very curiuos so i sold a couple for five dollers each then i was able to buy other food i did,nt have like drinks chips etc.so that was long ago now i do it in a more better way an still sell them for 5$ each .i call them neechi pops fried bread stuffed with ?

Posted by calvin alexander on July 22,2009 | 02:44 AM

My family learned the art of making frybread while living on the Ute Indian reservation at Red Mesa, Colorado. My grandfather was 1/2 blood, and my mom learned to make frybread because it pleased him. It was the only version of fry bread I knew until I attended my first Pow Wow in the early 1980's. The version I grew up with is based on bread dough (leavened with yeast), while the Navaho version I had at the Pow Wow is made from buiscuit dough (leavened with baking soda). Both are wonderful, but it is true they are packed with calories, and should be enjoyed sparingly. My Grandmother developed type II diabetes in her 50's and I fear the same might happen to me. I still remember it used to be an every Firday affair that my mom would make a fresh pot of beans (pinto) and serve it with frybread. For me it will always be the ultimate in comfort food.

Posted by Lois Eaton on September 10,2008 | 04:53 PM

Don at the top of the article on the right hand side there is a box that says Frybread Recipe where you can find a recipe for Frybread. Hope this helps! If you don't see the article at the top here is the URL http://www.smithsonianmag.com/people-places/frybread-recipe.html

Posted by Cheryl on July 24,2008 | 05:33 PM

I first had frybread at a Sundance in northeastern South Dakota in the spring of 1982. I am disappointed that no recipe was posted in this article and my older Smithsonians are packed away. Could i get the recipe online? The Sundance, the fasting ,the dancing and speeches were fanatastic, something I hope to always remember.

Posted by Don Boyd on July 24,2008 | 03:19 PM

Many cultures have this "poor-folks" food. What are Southern biscuits but flour and lard? For us Slovenian-Americans in northern Minnesota, it was "pohennas"; when there was dough left over from the morning bread-baking, my Mom would roll, cut and fry it as an after-school snack. With sugar sprinkled on it! None of us were fat - we ate vegetables from the garden all year round; deer, rabbit and fish from the woods; and a chicken from the coop on Sunday. The pohennas were a special treat.

Posted by Judy on July 23,2008 | 11:51 PM

Interesting article on Frybread. What I'm reading reminds me of the intervention process. I never thought frybread would be viewed negatively to make a point on the diseases of overindulgence. Instead of bashing frybread, why don't we take a proactive stance and change some of the ingredients, such as substituting wheat flour for white flour and olive oil instead of lard. I believe encouragement of innovation is more effective than bashing.

Posted by Grandma on July 2,2008 | 02:28 PM



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