In this installment of my bucket list, I’ll tell you about making Indian Fry Bread Tacos!
When I was a little girl I was obsessed with reading about Native Americans. I remember reading Island of the Blue Dolphins in the 5th grade and deciding I could totally be that little warrior princess. For much of the next year I spent my time out by the rail road tracks or New Brighton beach, carving spears out of sticks and trying to make fires from scratch. I found a perfect tree that offered shelter, a lookout, and nooks to snuggle up in for an afternoon nap.
Fast forward a decade and my Pocahontas phase was over, or so I thought. One day when perusing the college catalogue for electives, I happened upon a cultural anthropology class focused on Native Americans. Having just watched Lara Croft, Tomb Raider, I was thoroughly convinced that the career of anthropologist was sexy and would definitely come with a polygon bra. After the first semester I was hooked, and computer science be damned, I took another class on the Natives of California. The information was mind boggling. What’s that you say, Columbus didn’t discover America? You mean, the people that were here first didn’t want us to force our god down their throats?
I fondly remember our first Pow Wow field trip. It was the gathering of the Ohlone Peoples at the Coyote Hills regional park. A warm Autumn day, with a balmy breeze blowing in off the bay, the kind of day that makes California the golden state. The oak scrub hills had been baked in the summer sun making dry grass crunch loudly beneath your feet. The sound of drumming and chanting rose up to greet you and it felt like you’d just been welcomed into someone’s family barbeque.
As we strolled around checking out folk art, my olfactory senses started to work like an overclocked CPU and I believe a foodie was born. Like Columbus discovered America so many years ago, I had discovered Indian Fry Bread. The smell of fresh bread has always been intoxicating to me, but this, oh this combined two of my favorite things, the smell of frying fat and bread! I ordered a piece and it was light, salty, savory and everything a piece of fried bread should be. I was hooked, and quickly ran around the Pow Wow about 10 times so I could make room for an Indian Fry Bread Taco.
Another decade rolls by, because they do that pretty fast, and I’m driving to Burning Man 2011 with friends. We round a corner into one of the small, speed trap towns and as I roll down the window, the aroma of fry bread hits my nose and immediately activates my pleasure center. I spend the next week in Black Rock City salivating at the thought of Fry Bread Tacos. The day before we leave I start planting the seed with my travel companions that we should really consider stopping for tacos on the way out, you know, support the local community. After 6 hours in Exodus, I can tell my friends are about ready to slap my taco loving face when I dare to suggest that we stop on the way to Reno. I quietly point out the stands as we pass each little town and wistfully stare out the window and breathe in the scent like a dog. Lucky girl that I am, my friends are awesome, and decided to stop at the last stand we saw to fulfill my Indian Taco dream. It was everything I’d ever hoped for after a week of eating a generous helping of dust with most meals.
Upon arriving home, I decided it was time to try my hand at making my own delicious fry bread. And oh, did I make it. Something like half a dozen batches (4 pieces each) over the course of the next week. I tried it salted, with powered sugar, taco style, with eggs on top. Next time I’m going to make braised buffalo tacos. In the words of Nelly, “Girl, I think my butt gettin big.” Lesson learned, only make fry bread in the company of friends.
