The smell of onions and garlic simmering in a pan. The satisfaction of layering filo, butter, and honey. These are core memories that I hold from cooking with family.

My grandmother, Abuela Siran, is Armenian and Cuban, and she comes from a rural background. I grew up hearing stories from her about the orange blossoms she and her family gathered from their yard to make jam. But my abuela was the last member of my family to come from a farming background. My interests in sustainability and farming came after childhood, during my freshman year at Rutgers University.

These interests are why I was so excited to work as an intern for the Smithsonian Folklife Festival this year as a part of the Native Language Reclamation in the U.S. program team. It was an opportunity to learn about the Kanien’kehá:ka and their connection to the natural world. Unlike many Western cultures, the Kanien’kehá:ka are involved not only in the cooking of their food but also in the cultivation of the crops they use in traditional dishes.

They are native to the northeastern part of what is now known as the United States and into Canada, and their reserve is located across the borders ofOntario, Quebec, and New York. This year, the Festival hosted a Kanien’kehá:ka organization called Ionkwahronkha’onhátie’, or “We are becoming fluent,” a grassroots organization operated by and for young adult second-language (L2) learners of Kanien’kéha (or Mohawk) working to reclaim and revitalize their language.

The members of Ionkwahronkha’onhátie’ are very involved in growing, harvesting, processing, and cooking corn, which they call ó:nenhste in Kanien’kéha. But it’s not the corn you find in your grocery store; they grow a particular variety of white corn they call onenhakèn:ra . This can be eaten when it is sweet or “green,” but onenhakèn:ra is also dried and preserved to be eaten later or made into corn meal. Corn is such an important plant in Kanien’kehá:ka culture that both recipes Ionkwahronkha’onhátie’ cooked at the Festival’s Foodways cooking demonstration stage were centered around it.

Stories about corn have been passed down through generations. Ionkwahronkha’onhátie’ member and Festival participant Wenhni’tí:io recounted an origin story, in both English and Kanien’kéha, to me and to visitors in the Gifts of the Land garden. Listen to the story in Kanien’kéha, and read the English summary below:

A long time ago, when the world first began, there were only three beings on Earth: two twins and their grandmother. One of the twins, Tharonhiawá:kon, was born a natural way, and one, Shawískara, was born from his mother’s armpit, killing her. Their grandmother thought that Tharonhiawá:kon was the twin who killed her daughter, and so she always favored Shawískara. Tharonhiawá:kon was shunned and cast off, growing up and living on his own.

One day he decided to go hunting in a place with lots of waterfowl. He had only one arrow, and he tried to be careful with his aim, but he missed, and his arrow sailed into the lake, where it traveled to the bottom. He had no choice but to go after it, but when he found it, something had changed about it, and it drew him in. As he drew closer to the arrow, a turtle being appeared.

The turtle told Tharonhiawá:kon that he was his father. He had something very special for him, but Tharonhiawá:kon had to make sure no one touched it. He was presented with a corn kernel, and the turtle explained how to plant it, care for it, and harvest it. This particular plant, turtle being said, would grow as soon as it was planted and could be harvested the same day. To cook it, you only needed to put it in boiling water. It was the easiest thing to cook, and Tharonhiawá:kon would have food for as long as he lived, so long as no one else touched this corn.

As soon as Tharonhiawá:kon was home, he followed his father’s instructions. He planted the corn, harvested it the same day, and prepared soup. The smell wafted over to the nearby lodge where his grandmother and Shawískara lived, and when she smelled the aromatic soup, Tharonhiawá:kon’s grandmother instructed Shawískara to go investigate the unfamiliar and appetizing scent. Shawískara went to his twin and asked what Tharonhiawá:kon was cooking, but he was sent back empty-handed. Tharonhiawá:kon stuck to his father’s instructions, not letting his twin know about or touch the corn. Shawískara told their grandmother, who came to Tharonhiawá:kon’s house in a rage, grabbed the corn he was cooking, and threw it into the ashes next to the fire.

And because of what happened, long ago at the beginning of the earth, cooking corn takes a long time.

To clean onenhakèn:ra, dried kernels are passed from one container to another in a process called winnowing, allowing the dirt and chaff to blow away. Wíshe showed the process of winnowing to Festival visitors at the Kanien’kehá:ka tent and let them try it themselves. I tried winnowing and saw how the wind scattered the dirt (and sometimes kernels of corn) on the ground!

Next, using a basket made of hardwood ash specifically made for corn washing, known as ienenhstóhare’táhkhwa, the dried onenhakèn:ra is cooked in ash water (think of the ashes the corn was thrown into at the end of the story). There is a coating that forms around dried corn that makes it hard to digest, but the alkalinity of the ash triggers a process called nixtamalization to break this coating down, making the corn’s nutrients more bioavailable. It also turns both the corn and the ash orange!

Once the corn has been nixtamalized, it can be cooked in a variety of ways. In the first Foodways demonstration, Wíshe and Tsiotenharí:io demonstrated how to make Three Sisters soup. The “three sisters,” or Áhsen nikontate’kèn:shon in Kanien’kéha, are ó:nenhste (corn), osahè:ta (beans), and onon’ónseia (squash), which have a symbiotic relationship as they grow side by side. The soup is made by taking all of these ingredients and putting them in a pot with wild game or beef and broth, and then letting it simmer. Tsiotenharí:io explained that she normally uses plants from her garden, but any type of squash, beans, corn, and broth on hand will work.

Tsiotenharí:io also told me that her name means “beautiful corn silk,” which is one of the reasons she feels so connected to onenhakèn:ra. She explained how almost every part of the corn plant has some value or benefit. The husks are used for making mats, beds, and sometimes shoes. Corn also provides medicine. For example, corn silk is a female reproductive medicine. The tip of the corn represents lineage. The first kernel at the top of an ear of corn represents you, and the four pieces afterward represent your grandparents.Corn was (and is) so valuable that it was used as a form of currency for the Kanien’kehá:ka, and according to Tsiotenharí:io, “one seed can feed a village.”

In the group’s second cooking demonstration, Wíshe and Karihwenhá:wi showed an audience how to make corn mush. Wíshe demonstrated the process of nixtamalizing corn and washing it in ash water, and Karihwenhá:wi toasted corn flour in a pan and then slowly added warm water. Once it was cooked, Karihwenhá:wi plated the corn mush and added fruit and wáhtaóhses (maple syrup). Traditionally, the dish is eaten plain, but for modern tastes and at home, it is often eaten with fruit, such as kahrhatakéha (blueberries) and ken’niichontésha (strawberries), and wáhtaóhses.

The Foodways stage was decorated with long braids of onenhakèn:ra, a beautiful and practical way to store dried corn. Karihwenhá:wi explained the process of making these corn braids: it requires taking corn in their husks and using the best few husks peeled down to braid it into itself. Once it is braided, these braids are hung up to dry, preventing mold so the corn can last for years. The best ears of corn are saved to plant in the future, and the best kernels are chosen to reproduce prettier pieces of corn.

From a young age, Kanien’kehá:ka children are involved in the process of food production. From using food for sensory and language learning, to planting, harvesting, and cutting vegetables, they are actively engaged with their language and in food preparation. In the community, involving both the young and the old is key.

According to Wíshe, reciprocity and community relations are a crucial part of the Kanien’kehá:ka culture. As the members of Ionkwahronkha’onhátie’ are becoming fluent in their language and reconnecting with culture, they are learning from their elders and giving back to them. Younger community members show their thanks by cleaning elders’ houses, driving them to appointments, and bringing them food.

Continuing in this way, I would like to say niá:wen (thank you) to Ionkwahronkha’onhátie’. I learned a lot from them by seeing how they relate with the land, as compared to the culture I grew up in.

The stories we grow up with shape who we are and the culture we create, and hearing the corn origin story from Wenhni’tí:io inspired me to learn about this deep connection to the natural world. When I asked him about this culture of gratitude, he responded simply “our culture demands it.”

Living in Northeastern New Jersey, our way of life did not inherently hold the natural world in such high esteem and often took its gifts for granted. Meeting the Kanien’kehá:ka has made me want to change that—not just for myself, but for others around me. This new way of thinking they sparked in me was a gift. It inspired me to reconnect with myself and the world around me and to spread this culture of gratitude.

I was lucky enough to receive a physical gift from them as well: onenhakèn:ra—both to eat and to plant next May. So niá:wen to Ionkwahronkha’onhátie’, for the culture of gratitude they imparted to me, their kindness, and their gift of onenhakèn:ra.

Sofia Little is a program intern at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival and an incoming senior at Rutgers University studying environmental policy, institutions, and behavior.