When you pack up your life and start over somewhere new, you think about the job, the weather, the cost of living, and finding a community. When Nick and I moved to Tucson, a city framed by the Sonoran Desert and celebrated for its food culture, I didn’t expect to miss my grocery store so much.
After six years in Indianapolis, I knew where to buy the best gluten-free baked goods (Gluten Free Creations), which great butcher (Moody’s) to buy meat, and which farmers market stand (Warfield Cottage) sold the best greens. Moving to Tucson meant trading the Midwest’s cornfields for the desert’s cactus, and where much of the food is born of Mexican and Indigenous ingredients, even an easy meal of rice and beans felt like an introduction to another language.
There is no doubt that moving from one state to another changes the way you eat. In Indiana, I cooked broths and experimented with braising, especially during the fall, winter and early spring, eating warm, stewy dishes. Here, I think more about citrus, chilies, and beans. Dinners are full of flavors that make up the region: mesquite, nopales, prickly pear, and the “three sisters” comprised of corn, beans, and squash. Now our pantry will be stocked with dried chiles and freshly made corn tortillas, replacing the hoarded Red Gold pasta sauce of my Hoosier days.
The relocation isn’t only about ingredients; it’s about discovering a community. For Nick and me, it’s how we find and make friends. In our first week in our new home, we joined our next-door neighbors, Greg and Colleen, at La Frida’s Mexican Grill, a charming, well-designed spot located on East 22nd Street with a painterly mural honoring the late artist. The meal started with a basket of chips and — surprise — jalapeño crema (instead of salsa) for dipping, touched with habanero. Zesty, rich, and impossible to stop eating. Alongside it came an additional four sauces to try: salsa verde, black refried beans, a smoky coloradito, and a deep, chocolatey mole. The chef, originally from Hermosillo, cooks with an appreciation for her birthplace and presents dishes in a hearty, picturesque manner: deep browns, rich greens, and sauces with royal crimson overtone. We had a variety of dishes, but the quesabirra, historically from Tijuana and developed by the region’s taqueros, had that buttery crunch with tender meat, salty creaminess from the cheese and that rich flavor from the consommé for dipping. The corn ribs, quartered and eaten off the cob, smeared with cotija, were a reminder of how delicious street food can be. We arrived at 4:00 p.m. and by the time we left two hours later, it felt like the whole of Tucson was waiting for a table.
In every move I’ve made — Los Angeles, San Francisco, Irvine, Palm Springs, New York City, Indianapolis, now Tucson — I’ve learned that the fastest way to feel at home is through its restaurants and markets. Each city teaches you its flavors, and Tucson shows the earthiness of Sonoran wheat tortillas, the char on a roasted green pepper, and the comfort of beans simmering away on the stove. These are image postcards tattooed into my memory banks that will last longer than any logo t-shirt ever will. Indeed, Tucson’s UNESCO City of Gastronomy status only reinforces the idea that what we eat tells the story of who and where we are.
In the freezer, there’s still a loaf of gluten-free bread from Native Bread Company in Indianapolis. I slice and toast it on mornings when I miss the Midwest. It’s that heady scent of bread, with a smear of local prickly pear jam bridging my recent past to today in a way no moving truck can.
What we eat when we move isn’t just about adapting to a new market or menu. It’s about creating continuity. The table’s location may change, but the act of sitting down, of being fed and feeding others, remains constant.
But in a short time, here in the Old Pueblo, I’ve found that the desert’s vastness, beauty and indigenous ingredients are finding a way into my kitchen. As I’ve said before, moving isn’t about leaving something behind. It’s about eating and discovering what’s next.
Recipe: Prickly Pear and Lime Agua Fresca
Makes 2 quarts
• 2 cups prickly pear puree (fresh or bottled)
• Juice from 3 limes
• 4 cups cold water
• 2 tablespoons agave syrup (more to taste)
• Dash of sea salt
Whisk or blend all ingredients until smooth. Taste and adjust the sweetness. Chill for at least 30 minutes. Serve over ice with a sprig of mint or a lime slice. While this is a simple beverage, it tastes like the Sonoran Desert, which I think of as being bright, sweet, and restorative. If you’re feeling festive, add a touch of rum, tequila, or vodka.
A year of eating throughout Indiana and what it taught me about community.
I often think about the delicious six years I’ve spent exploring Indiana food. My path crossed many food folks and chefs, including Rachel Firestone and Samir Mohammed at 9th Street Bistro, as well as Zoe Taylor and Josh Kline at Borage. I ran into Shadow Lounge’s Chef Tia Wilson at one of the local markets one day and, the next, watched Jonathan Brooks man the line at Beholder. One of my favorite stories was seeing Burgeezy’s Kadeesha and Antonine Wiggins grow their dream business. Of course, there is pizza and Diavola may serve the best Neopolitan pie in all of Indy, in my humble opinion.
Some editors took notice, giving me a platform to write about food: Culinary Crossroads’ Jolene Katzenberger, former Edible Indy owner Jennifer Rubinstein, current publisher Adam Grubb and, of course, Indianapolis Monthly’s Eve Batey and Andrea Ratcliffe. Through them, I found a voice focused on Midwestern cuisine, especially as it relates to identity and immigration. But it also showed me something more profound: that food entrepreneurs create a sense of community wherever they are.
While I genuinely love fine-dining, destination experiences, it’s the local neighborhood spots that bring people together—whether over coffee, drinks, or dinner—that make communities thrive. Gather 22, for instance, with its hammocks and generous outdoor space, does that beautifully, along with its tasty bites. What Adam Reinstrom and Pablo Gonzalez have created — part restaurant and adult playground — is nothing short of remarkable.
This is only a partial list of what I ate this year. I’m eternally grateful to Culinary Crossroads’ Larry Dickerson for allowing me to travel all over Indiana during the course of my three years writing for them. After visiting nearly 100 towns and hamlets throughout the state, I’ve come to understand how both historians and restaurateurs have shaped the Midwest’s culinary history and, importantly, how interconnected the region truly is.
It’s not that my time in Indiana has come to an end. I’m working on a cookbook project that is part Midwestern history and part chef-driven stories from across the region, which I hope to see published next year. I also like to think that I’m evolving, which is vital to my well-being.
While some people go to concerts, shop, watch IMAX, or attend large-scale sporting events, spending their hard-earned wages – and yes, any work today is hard-earned – I head to a locally owned restaurant or a farmers’ market. By doing so, my partner and I give back to the communities we live in. That’s important to the region’s economic health and vitality.
Last word: Writing about food, I can’t be tone-deaf to how nearly 40 million people will suffer without SNAP benefits. My childhood was marked by food insecurity and hunger. My mother raised me alone, stretching a meager salary that never went far enough. She tried really hard, but there were days when the sharp pain in my stomach could only be eased by water. Despite paying taxes on her modest income, she could never get ahead. It was systemic gender bias at work: no matter how hard she pushed, the system pushed back harder. I’m seeing this play out again; it’s always the hard workers who only want to raise families who suffer at the hands of the big corporate powers.
Chefs Erin Kem and Logan McMahan reimagined the venerable Tony and Rosa Hanslits’ Nicole-Taylor Pasta and Market, which had been an emporium focused on Italy, into a mostly vegetarian cafe and retail experience. What they do with simple ingredients is on full display with a roasted kombucha squash, caramelized and seasoned with restraint, which showed me how Indiana produce can shine when treated with respect.
1134 East 54th Street, Studio C, Indianapolis, IN 46220
In Oldenburg, a small-town gripping tightly to its German Catholic heritage, Wagner’s has been feeding generations with its four-ingredient, family-style fried chicken. Crisp skin, juicy meat, and it makes it a southern Indiana tradition worth the drive. The James Beard Foundation even awarded it for Classic American. It’s one of those honors that tries to extend an olive branch to communities often dismissed in the cosmopolitan food world. Regardless, the eatery and the hamlet have a history and a sense of place, with church spires casting shadows over two-hundred-year-old cobblestone streets, and the highly seasoned chicken is pretty good.
Chefs Zoe Taylor and Josh Kline created an homage to Midwestern food at their restaurant, cafe and market. They elevated their dream business to something beyond nostalgia, transforming it into a refined yet rustic experience that stays true to their regional roots. Sometimes, in their deft hands, childhood treats become both nostalgic and refined. At the bakery, the gluten-free Pop-Tarts — technically made by their pastry chef Rachel de Masi — change with the seasons and serve as proof that playful baking can be serious food. I’ve often written about the duo and profiled them for Edible Indy, my last story for that publication.
I was on one of my small-town Culinary Crossroads travel excursions and decided to swing by Smokey’s Concession Stand. It was early on Friday, and a crowd was already seated at the bar. While some people say not to ask the server—or, in this case, the bartender—what’s good, I often do. A restaurant worker will honestly tell me what they prefer — and I, being a former dishwasher and waitperson who believes in excellent customer service, will point you in the right direction. The bartender recommended the smoked Reuben, which featured house-smoked corned beef that raised the bar. The smoke clung to each slice, balanced by tangy kraut and melted Swiss. It reminded me how a sandwich can be just as transportive as a tasting menu.
Kokomo may be best known for auto manufacturing, but tucked into one of its Korean restaurants, I found japchae that took me to another continent. Sweet potato noodles, sesame oil, and vegetables created a plate that was comforting and unexpected in central Indiana. It’s hard to find great Asian food in this part of the country, but this was one of the best noodle dishes without having to fly to Seoul. It was also part of a destination piece I wrote for Indianapolis Monthly.
Inside the Alexander Hotel, Nesso delivers an upscale Italian coastal dining experience under the direction of recently appointed Chef Zach Szabo. He’s a transplant from D.C, and brings “glam Italian” to the Midwest, meaning rustic yet refined. An example was a special item: Hokkaido scallop crudo, bright, clean, delicate, citrusy and with a hint of heat. It was a dish that felt worldly without crossing the Atlantic. It was mastery of crudo, with thin rounds of the mollusk in a sauce meant for slurping.
South Bend is emerging as its own dining scene, and Roselilly, with its chef-owner Eamonn McParland, is at its center. The AAA four-diamond dining experience is one of two in town, which is also home to the University of Notre Dame. He created a tasting menu, and his sweet pea agnolotti, part of the experience, captured the freshness of spring in tender pasta pockets that were both delicate and celebratory.
701 South Main Street, South Bend, IN 46601
(574) 347-4560
Fried Pork Tenderloin at The Tin Plate, Elwood
Fried pork tenderloin at the Tin plate
The breaded tenderloin has long been considered Indiana’s official sandwich. And, truthfully, like many people, I love breaded, fried meats (chicken-fried steak, chicken tenders, fish and chips anyone?), but it’s not that unique. However, the version at The Tin Plate in Elwood — while not unique — made me a convert. The pork is pounded thin but not too thin, and then fried to a golden brown, retaining juiciness rather than a dry puck, which can happen without brining. Like a soft-brimmed hat, it flopped over the sides of the bun. It was a taste of pure Midwest and Hoosier comfort. I also loved the fact that Elwood is home to Red Gold Tomatoes. While the canning company is not related to the German-inspired pork tenderloin, add some sauce and fresh mozzarella and you have pork cutlet parmigiana.
Noblesville’s 9th Street Bistro is intimate in size but ambitious in flavor. Husband-and-wife team Samir Mohammed and Rachel Firestone created a well-thought-out small-town bistro in the heart of Noblesville, half a block from the town square. It’s one of the places you would find in a European hamlet, owned and operated by the same family for decades, sewn into the community fabric. The pork and foie gras meatloaf is an indulgent, warm dish —essentially a country pâté heated rather than served cold—that marries Midwestern comfort with French luxury. It is proof that, even in a small town, with this duo at the helm, grand tastes can fly without pretension.
If a corn cake and crab dip chatted in the kitchen, they would say, “Gurl, this is real food for the Fourth of July.
We know our founding fathers did not eat hot dogs, hamburgers, and apple pie after signing one of the world’s most important political documents. Most likely, their plates were heaped with pancakes made of cornmeal served with roasted meats and seafood gathered from nearby waterways.
It makes sense that corn, cultivated by Indigenous peoples for thousands of years, was the staple of early cuisine. Indeed, cakes made from ground maize, such as hoecakes or johnnycakes, were easy to make and eat, piping hot out of a wood-burning fireplace. Coupled with the abundance of seafood along the Eastern Seaboard, tables featured paired combinations like crab, oysters, and fish, to accompany the cornmeal staples.
Indigenous Ingredients Were Already Here
However, these flavors didn’t originate from European settlers; they were already grown and eaten by the existing populations of Indigenous people. New foods were introduced to the settlers including corn, squash, beans, and natural salts harvested from brine springs and coastal waters. These weren’t just ingredients, they were intertwined to the land, ceremony, and survival of the tribal nations.
Enslaved Africans brought frying, stewing, and seasoning traditions that became the foundation of Southern and coastal cooking. Caribbean immigrants layered in citrus, chili, and preservation techniques that show up in seafood, spice blends, and pickled vegetables.
Who Gets Credit for “American” Food?
For too long, the narrative of “American food” has centered on Germanic and Eastern European traditions, sausages, stews, pies, because these communities, though once immigrants, came to hold power in cultural storytelling. Meanwhile, Indigenous, African, and Caribbean contributions were often erased, commercialized, or absorbed without credit.
Thus, I decided to create a bit-sized corn cake appetizer dolloped with hot crab dip ontop. It’s inspired by the foods served during those first July celebrations in 1776. American cuisine has always been a blend of indigenous crops, African techniques, Caribbean flavors, and immigrant ingenuity.
This 4th of July, Celebrate Interdependence.
This Fourth of July, I’m celebrating not just independence, but interdependence. The shared hands, cultures, and histories that shaped what we eat today.
Mini Corn Cakes with Crab Salad (Gluten Free)
I created this recipe from many sources as a showcase of early American roots: Indigenous, African and early settlers.
Makes about 12–16 mini corn cakes
For the Corn Cakes:
1 cup stone-ground cornmeal (medium grind works best)
½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp kosher salt
1 cup buttermilk (or ¾ cup milk + 1 Tbsp vinegar, rested 5 minutes)
1 large egg
2 Tbsp melted butter or neutral oil ½ cup corn kernels (fresh, frozen, or canned—optional)
oil for frying
If the batter seems too thin, let it sit for 5–10 minutes so the cornmeal can absorb more of the liquid. For a thicker batter, add 1 Tbsp finely ground cornmeal or masa harina.
For the Hot Crab Dip:
8 oz lump crab meat, drained and checked for shells
2 Tbsp mayonnaise
1 Tbsp sour cream or plain Greek yogurt
1 tsp Dijon mustard
1 tsp lemon juice (plus more to taste)
1 tsp chopped chives or green onion
Pinch of Old Bay or cayenne (optional)
Salt and pepper to taste
Instructions:
Corn Cakes:
in a medium sized bowl, mix cornmeal, baking powder, and salt.
In another bowl, whisk buttermilk, egg, and melted butter. Add the wet ingredients to the dry and stir just until combined. Fold in corn kernels, if using. Let it sit for a few minutes to thicken.
Heat a skillet or griddle over medium with a light layer of oil.
Drop batter by heaping tablespoonfuls to form small cakes (~2 inches). Cook 2–3 minutes per side until golden and crisp on the edges. Transfer to a wire rack or paper towel.
Crab Salad:
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. While that reaches temperature, Gently mix mayo, sour cream, mustard, lemon, chives, and spices in a bowl and place into a baking dish
Fold in crab meat, being careful not to break it up too much. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Bake for 15 – 20 minutes until heated through.
Serving:
Top each corn cake with a spoonful of crab dip. Garnish with a sprinkling of fresh, chopped herbs (such as dill or chives) or a sprinkle of smoked paprika or lemon zest, if you’re feeling fancy.
Miller, Adrian. Soul Food: The Surprising Story of an American Cuisine, One Plate at a Time – Explores the role of African American culinary traditions in shaping Southern and early American cuisine.
Library of Congress – Food at Mount Vernon and American Memory collections: Primary source material on colonial food habits, including George Washington’s preference for hoecakes.
Southern Foodways Alliance – Oral histories and essays on cornmeal, seafood traditions, and foodways rooted in African, Indigenous, and Southern cultures.
P.S. Photo was AI-generated. I made the crab dip for a party and planned to create the corn cakes. But, life got in the way.
When I think of my father, the only good thoughts appear around food. It’s often how we remember people, how we ate with them at a dinner table or cooked beside them. It’s not how we wish they were, but as they were. In a time when immigration has yet again become so politicized and misunderstood, I think about my father, whose name was Primo. He was a complicated man, an immigrant, an enlisted Navy veteran of 40-plus years and a man I never truly knew. I knew that he walked to school on pristine beaches and white sand. His parents — my grandparents — were killed by U.S World War II pilots, flushing out enemies that hid in the dense jungles of the archipelago. Casualties of friendly bombings, if you will. He, along with three siblings, was adopted by family members. Tropical Cindafella — only hard work, cleaning the relative’s home for his keep, but grieving his childhood and loss. He was never quite taught how to be a father because he didn’t have one, nor were those around him capable. They, too, were mourning the deaths of their children and others. War, ultimately, guarantees that generations will suffer.
Because of his loss, what I received from him wasn’t warmth or fatherly advice, barely even love — although, my stepmother might argue that. However, when I lived with him briefly in my teen years, I was given his childhood memories of growing up and eating in the Philippines.
My father’s family and me.
But Primo enlisted in the U.S. Navy and served a country that didn’t always see him. He stood watch on ships, served abroad, and carried that discipline into every corner of his life. It wasn’t gentle. But it was service and took him away from what he knew. You might even say joining the armed forces gave him a father. He learned about combat and racial discrimination. He learned infidelity and deceptiveness — to lie when he was caught. He did that quite often.
But he loved seafood.
If it came from the ocean, it was on his plate. Prawns, squid, bangus, and crab legs soaked in garlic butter and eaten with his hands. He would suck loudly suck the juice out of the shrimp’s head. “Mmmm, that’s good,” he would say to us around the table: my half-siblings, his second wife, her mother and me.
The sea reminded him of something he had left behind: it was full of free and accessible food. It was easy for him to catch fish with a handmade net and cook the nightly meal he had to make as an indentured child servant. When my stepmother or her mother didn’t cook adobo or pancit, he would make a bowl of halabos na hipon—Filipino-style buttered shrimp and rice—always rice.
When I cook this dish today, I can focus on his trials as an immigrant and his service in the Navy. Not as a father or someone I knew well, but as a figure in my history, a uniformed man who battled on iron ships and his demons. While I toss the garlic and shrimp, with splashes of carbonated lemon soda, and simmer to a tasty syrup, I imagine his life’s grueling and uphill battle. I never fully understood him dismissing me as his son until I wound up on his doorstep, thinking he could save me.
Today, we wrestle, yet again, needlessly, around immigration. As if that’s the problem. My father wasn’t perfect, but his journey — from the Philippines to military service in the U.S. — helped build this country. It’s easy to forget how many of our most valued dishes — tacos, pizza, hamburgers, French fries, dumplings — were brought here in the bags and bellies of people like him. Immigrants have never taken anything from the United States and this country, they bring flavor, resilience, and stories.
This isn’t a tribute to Primo on Father’s Day. Although he was my blood, he was many things: a loving father to his other kids, a daughter and a son, a veteran, a man who loved seafood and a proud settler to the United States. He loved this country as so many immigrants do.
Garlic Butter Shrimp (Halabos na Hipon)
Serves 2–3
Ingredients:
1 lb head-on shrimp, shell on (I used shelled shrimp. Since I live in Indiana, it’s hard to find whole shrimp).
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon neutral oil (canola or vegetable)
6 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1/4 cup Sprite or 7-Up
1 tablespoon fish sauce (optional, or substitute with a pinch of salt or a splash of soy sauce)
Freshly ground black pepper
Cut lemon for serving
Steamed white rice
Directions:
In a large skillet, heat the butter and oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and sauté until golden and fragrant, about 1–2 minutes.
Add the shrimp and toss to coat in the garlic butter.
Pour in the soda and fish sauce (if using). Let it bubble and reduce slightly, then cook the shrimp until pink and curled—3 to 5 minutes.
Season with black pepper. Serve hot with calamansi or lemon wedges and plenty of steamed rice to soak up the sauce.
June is Pride Month in the United States. Indianapolis celebrates with a parade and all-day events on June 14 and 15. But being LGBTQ isn’t something we clock in and out of on the weekends: We were born this way (thank you, Gaga). We didn’t choose it. Thus, we shouldn’t
choose between authenticity and acceptance when eating or meeting up. We want spaces that are more than just inclusive for business optics. Establishments need to be genuine in their support of who we are.
For most of us, it often means seeking out LGBTQIA-owned restaurants, bars and coffee shops, where identity isn’t a marketing strategy. It’s brewed, baked and blended into the DNA. Since moving from Los Angeles to Indy five years ago, I’ve visited queer-owned restaurants, bakeries, and coffee shops across the state, from Fort Wayne to Evansville. These businesses don’t just serve the LGBTQ community; they employ locals and uplift their neighborhoods.
While we celebrate Pride this month, we also look toward Chicago, where the Oscars of the food world, the James Beard Awards, will be handed out June 16. It’s especially significant, considering James Beard himself was a gay man long before it was safe or celebrated to be out in public.
Today, the James Beard Foundation carries on his culinary legacy, honoring all chefs and restaurateurs, regardless of gender or identity expression, who feed us with creative and inspirational flavors.
“Food is our common ground, a universal experience, “ – James Beard
The couple, Adam Reinstrom and Pablo Gonzalez, opened Gather 22 in 2023. Named after its location on 22nd Street and as a place to convene, it showcases deliciousness from pizzas, sandwiches and cocktails. Like its owners, a mix of ethnicities and experiences from the West Coast to the Midwest, it is a place to meet up, have inspiring conversations and celebrate differences while eating and drinking well.
22 East 22nd Street, Indianapolis (Central) (317) 258-2222: IG, FB
In the small town of New Harmony, just outside of Evansville, Alex Gale and his baristas produce house-roasted beans and specialty coffees. What began as weekend meditation excursions for Gale to the new age-centered village along the Wabash River led Gale to discover and purchase Black Lodge Coffee Roasters. Since buying the shop in 2019, it’s become known for its bourbon-barrel coffee, eccentric events (sound baths, art exhibitions), and community outreach.
610 Church Street, New Harmony, (812) 682-2449 IG, FB
Lady Tron’s, a sci-fi homage serving delicious handcrafted soup and sandwiches, sits where Indiana meets the shores of the Ohio River. Owned by Alexa and Summer Seig, the duo serves a crowd of regulars from a vintage mobile diner outfitted in memorabilia from Star Wars to Elf and Star Trek. It’s an incongruous, madcap but tasty experience in a historic town that also served as part of the Underground Railroad.
The Huntingtonburg Grind, Huntingtonburg (Southern Indiana)
Smithsonian Magazine named Huntingtonburg one of the best small towns in the United States in 2024, but partners in life and business Chad Brian and Mike Voegerl, the latter growing up there, knew that already. Thus, they purchased the coffee shop on charming 4th Street, a four-block stretch of restored Queen Anne and Victorian architecture.
410 E. 4th Street, Huntingtonburg, (812) 684-8079 FB
Opened in 2008, this sushi-slash-Italian-slash-Chinese eatery is a delicious haven for downtown Indianapolis residents. With a full bar, it’s a well-designed gathering space for the LGBTQIA community and their friends. If the ramen noodles or street tacos don’t fit your Midwest tastebuds, they also serve a burger with fries. The owner, Bill Pritt, purchased Metro last year, an LGBTQ bar on Mass Avenue and plans to open Harrison’s on Delaware Street in an abandoned bank building this summer.
Various gluten-free pastries at the Amp Farmers Market by Lydia Bootz Armstong
Exploring Non-Vegan, Gluten Free Bakeries in Indianapolis
People make much of eating gluten-free, calling it a lifestyle choice or making those who adhere to the diet change as if it isn’t a necessity. If you feel better, no matter how deep the condition goes, eating wheat-free can feel like a relief from getting rid of what ails you. Everyone — hopefully — can eat almond, tapioca, rice, potato, corn, sorghum or buckwheat flour, but not everyone can eat wheat.
For us – my partner, who has celiac, and I — we adhere to a GF diet because there is no choice. Eating alternative flour is the only way to go. However, we still want and crave butter and sugar, whether brown or the bad-for-you white. As such, I’m always looking for baked sweets that deliver with richness and decadence. The great thing about cooking with other types of flour is they add another layer of taste and deliciousness to an otherwise standard chocolate chip cookie or apple fritter.
I took it upon myself to showcase gluten-free bakeries in Indianapolis and those that create good old pastries made with alternative flour and lots of butter and sugar. I selected these specific bakers because they have a storefront, except for one.
These Indianapolis-based gluten-free bakeries prove that living without gluten doesn’t mean sacrificing anything. In truth, those who don’t know the difference could never tell if it was from wheat or cassava, and that’s a good thing. From the inclusivity of No Label at The Table to the luxurious The Cake Bake Shop, these bakers prove that gluten-free allows everyone to eat cake.
Aspasia Bakery
Baked goods at Zionsville-based Aspacia Bakery
Located on the border of Zionsville in a newly developed strip mall resides Aspasia Bakery, which opened in 2022. It’s a treasure trove for those seeking gluten-free baked goods made with butter and sugar and those seeking dairy and nut-free goods. Named after an ancient female Greek philosopher, owners Eva and Jeff Tomlinson built a charming restaurant that features breakfast through light supper items. For freshly made dinner rolls, brownies, or a scone, alt flour Aspacia offers a full array of goods. Like the Green Mermaid, it also has a drive-through for coffee and lattes. Special orders and shipping are available, too.
Various pastries and goods at No Label at The Table, Carmel
Plopped in the Carmel Arts District, No Label at The Table marries a gluten-free mission with a staff of individuals on the autism spectrum. That’s right; this bakery, created by Shelly Henley, which announced its opening in 2017, was for her son Jacob, who is on the autism spectrum. It began as an opportunity for him to become a chef and have a purpose. Still, it’s all about the delicious goods made in this no-frills space. Customers will find roasted garlic boules, doughnuts, cornbread sausage stuffing, hash brown casseroles and desserts, such as take-and-bake pies, cookies and cupcakes. Be aware that it’s dairy-free, too—lots of sugar, but no butter.
Since 2016, Native Bread has specialized in small-batch baking, creating loaves and pastries with impeccable texture and taste. From classic sourdough to focaccia and olive – and, importantly, burger buns (Do you know the difficulty in finding great GF buns?) – each product loaf is crafted using carefully selected ingredients. Made in the carry out on kitchen, the aroma of freshly baked bread hits individuals divinely.
Head south to Franklin for 1823 Bakehouse, where everything on the menu is 100% gluten-free. Known for seasonal goods, the bakery makes everything from scratch using butter and sugar unless noted otherwise. Mornings can begin with their buttery biscuit egg sandwich or banana bread. We were finally able to eat a Hoosier sugar cream bite. Instead of a pie, it’s about a two-chomp sweet experience. They even have biscuits and gravy, chicken pot pie and a French Toast bake pan to-go. While they serve coffee, 1823 Bakehouse has a large selection of loose-leaf teas.
Gluten Free Chocolate Popcorn Cake at The Cake Bake Shop in Broad Ripple
Gwendolyn Rodgers’s The Cake Bake Shop is a Disney-fied bakery. Pink frills and swans, latticework and curlicues create a childlike atmosphere. While not exclusively gluten-free, the bakery offers plenty of options for those avoiding gluten. When we first moved to the area, I ordered a carrot cake for Nick’s birthday. It was an expensive endeavor, but the confection was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful presentations we’ve ever had—and delicious creamed butter and sugar.
Their gluten-free chocolate cake is decadent, while their jewel-toned French macarons and brownies are perfect for any occasion.
Address: 6515 Carrollton Ave, Indianapolis, IN 46220
Lydia Bootz Armstrong of Gluten Free Creations has made my birthday cakes for the last four years. Even though she doesn’t have a shop, she makes everything with butter and sugar unless noted. In LA, where we are from, there are only a few vegan and gluten-free bakeries. It was either or. That may have changed five years later, but we wanted, in our new residence, cookies that would have made our grandmas proud. We wanted our treats to be flavorful and fat but made with alternative flour. Lydia, a home baker, does that with aplomb. Cinnamon rolls topped with sweet icing, freshly baked croissants and an array of cupcakes are just the beginning. Whether you’re ordering a custom cake for a special occasion or grabbing a treat to-go, Gluten Free Creations combines comfort and quality in every item they offer.
Four lovely baked Brazilian cheese rolls at Fernando’s
How Hoosier chefs made the potato, chicken liver, octopus, beef, pimento cheese and gluten-free bread the talk of my table
Nick and I have savored many of the diverse flavors of Indianapolis restaurants since our move to the city five years ago. I’ve had the opportunity to explore Indiana’s culinary landscape extensively, covering destinations for Culinary Crossroads for a year and a half. From the southernmost Evansville to Elkhart, in the north, a 10-minute drive to the Michigan border and other places, I’ve sampled a range of dishes, becoming well-versed in “Hoosier” food. Living here has expanded my tastebuds and evolved my understanding of the Midwest’s culture and people.
Exploring Indiana’s Diverse Culinary Landscape
I recently attended a conference where the speaker said, “Hoosiers either leave and never come back, or they never leave, traveling only 20 minutes outside their neighborhood.” It’s an exaggeration, clearly, but it’s not far from the truth. I’ve met many natives who may have been to Paris but not to the neighboring region. (Carmel to Fishers doesn’t count.) I can’t tell you how many times I’ve asked if native Hoosiers have been to Terre Haute, which recently elected its first Democratic mayor, Brandon Sukbhan, in a dozen years. The answer is “not since grade school” or “never.”
They should. It’s a diverse hamlet and indicates the changing demographics of Indiana. Sakbun, a former Army captain with model looks, a mega-watt smile, and Elvis Presley hair, is the son of a Cambodian father and a Jamaican mother; we ate at an Indian buffet near city hall, talking about his then-wife and soon-to-be first child.
The town, home to Clabber Girl Baking Powder, sold at Traders Joe’s throughout the land, is a swim to Illinois, just across the Wabash River. To get there from Indianapolis, though, a drive past small historic towns like Greencastle and Brazil, flush with red barns and still-working siloes, shows today’s farming. Tractors and bales dot the landscape.
Indiana’s Changing Food Scene: The Influence of New Demographics
I’m bringing this up because in a small town like Terre Haute, with a population of just under 60,0000 – my former Los Angeles block had more people – it’s important to note that the 21st-century demographics are changing how the middle of the country eats. It’s a story that doesn’t get told as the media chase stories about the modifying electorate. All we need to do is find out what people eat and where. Think about it: A mayor born of two immigrants leads a predominantly Caucasian city in the middle of the Midwest while eating Punjabi food.
How did I select my favorite? It was memorable—nothing more, nothing less. Nick and I talk about it or think about returning. After dining at Michelin-starred and James Beard Foundation-nominated experiences, or those I discovered across six continents and nearly 250 cities, I believe I am good at eating.
James Bear-nominated Chef Sean Richardson (Great Lakes Region) opened Rune Restaurant in Fort Wayne in March 2024. It’s a garden-to-table experience with twists and turns on different foods. Richardson makes an appetizer, fried chicken toast, and a large helping of house-made chicken pate smeared over Pullman bread. He gently fries the bread – as you would the Cantonese shrimp toast – and then flips it with a flour coating over the spreadable liver. Once cooked and warmed through, a slice of heirloom tomato, a drizzled white aioli and crunchy leftover bits. Mine featured a bit of nori, herbs and peanuts, and he was recreating the traditional dim sum in a Midwest way, using a loaf native to the region and lots of livers. While served on a plate, he repurposed an old menu that couldn’t be used again to keep the appetizer from careening off the plate instead of using a napkin. Just a touch of “greening.”
2725 Broadway, Fort Wayne, IN 46807, (260) 278-0674
Josh Kline’s rösti covered by an egg, bacon and sumac cream sauce
During an interview with Chef Josh Kline, owner of Borage, and his wife, Zoe Taylor, he said, “I love potatoes.” I do, too! However, he loves them so much that he came up with a new version I’ve never had. The everyday eater might think of them as hash browns. Still, rösti, a traditional Swiss dish, is anything but browned and grated fried spuds. Kline’s version makes the tuber a confit – soaked in oil for 24 hours before baking it. It may sound oily, but the resulting dish melts in your mouth with a crackling. Typically made for breakfast, his dish is an upscale version and, frankly, a meal unto itself. At brunch, he will top it with various proteins, from fish to an egg or two.
1609 N Lynhurst Dr, Indianapolis, IN 46224, (317) 734-3958, borageeats.com
Pão De Queji, Fernando’s Mexican & Brazilian Restaurant, Indianapolis
Four lovely baked Brazilian cheese rolls at Fernando’s
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…meaning Los Angeles on La Cienega Blvd, I had dinner at a Brazilian chain restaurant more than two decades ago. I ate tough cubes of beef, which, moments before being on my plate, had been flaming on a skewer passed around by an oddly dressed man, and the pão de queji set before me was a baseball, dense and leaden. That memory fired up when Nick and I dined at the year-old Fernando’s in Broad Ripple. Unlike then, we ate alfresco, removed from the street on the separate patio and dined on a mix of Mexican and Brazilian cuisines. Notably, they serve the tapioca-based pao de quiet, slightly chewy and savory pillow puff of chewy with nutty flavors of aged hard Italian cheese. I could eat these daily for the rest of my life, but only if I eat them here.
834 East 64th Street, Indianapolis, IN (317) 377-4779,
Commission Row’s Octopus Terrine with micro herbs and jalapenos.
Nick and I attended a press dinner for Commission Row, the breathtaking restaurant opened by Cunningham Restaurant Group and designed by Ration Architects. It sits on the eastern edge of Bicentennial Unity Plaza, on the Delaware Street side, with views of the public basketball court or ice rick, depending on the time of year. By the third dining experience, the impeccable server recommended the octopus terrine. A thinly sliced rectangle with rings of several cephalopods compacted is set before me. It’s a visually stunning dish of texture, spice and brine, with the pickled jalapenos giving a welcome dash of heat. Sublime eating.
Tacos are always the first thing people think of when they eat South of the Border food. That’s what I planned on eating when I walked into this Latina-owned restaurant in Frankfort, which, according to the 2020 U.S. Census, has a population of more than 16,000 and is one of Indiana’s farming communities tucked between cornfields and soybeans. After seeing a plate of empanadas pass by, I couldn’t resist the corn masa pockets stuffed with juicy braised chicken. My tastebuds reveled in the smokey achiote, garlic and onions permeating the filling. The tender golden crescent moon crust held a light sweetness and sturdiness to hold the meat without being tough or overly chewy. Three large hand-stuffed yeasty envelopes of poultry were more than sufficient, although I could have made it a meal with rice and beans that would have filled me into the next day.
408 N. Columbia Street, Franklin, (765) 601-4060, Facebook
I wrote a story about Indiana barbeque that was never published. In it, I argued that Indiana makes one of the great regional barbecues. Still, it never received the attention that others, partially because of the racism during the 1920s in the state—another story for another time. However, Mike and CJ McFarland smoke their meats in three different smokers outside a legion hall. Briskets, pulled pork, chicken are cured with locally sourced woods and seasoning, without sugar–brown or molasses in the open air, instead of indoors. Eaters get a wonderfully fruity yet succulent piece of meat from pitmaster McFarland’s patience over the embers. McFarland’s roots and cooking hailed from Owensboro considered the birthplace of American barbecue or, at least, pit-cooked mutton. Still, with beef and pork, he crafts his smoked meats, which are all Hoosier. They have two locations, but I visited them on South German Road.
Indiana and South Korea’s Newest Relationship Grows Midwest Dining and Manfacturing.
South Korean and Indiana become an international force of dining and EV battery
Nick and I celebrated five years of living in Indianapolis. It was a big cross-country drive, but we were old hats at it, having relocated from West Hollywood to Phoenix, then Orange County and finally Palm Springs before motoring eastward. Each relocation was for Nick’s work. Since living here, we packed again from our first house in the historic Kennedy King neighborhood into our current “forever” home within walking distance of Broad Ripple if we had sidewalks to get there. (We have the same zip code.)
Initially, the city reminded me of my elementary and high school years in Baltimore. Charm City offers mature skyscraping trees and massive, historic turn-of-the-century homes built by transportation moguls. Both areas were hubs of the Second Industrialization Revolution due to the proximity of waterways and the burgeoning railroad system. And it was walkable. I ran away from home once in my stocking, hiking seven miles from Roland Park to Fells Point.
The difference between the two, today, is that Indianapolis is larger by more than 300,000. It’s the 16th largest city in the country, wedged between Charlotte (15th) and San Francisco (17th). It’s also the third largest in the region behind Chicago (‘natch) and Columbus, OH. Baltimore’s population ranks thirtieth, sandwiched by Memphis (29) and Milwaukee (31).
Like my former town of Los Angeles, cars assisted in building Indy. According to the Indiana’s Greenfield Daily Reporter, there were 172 manufacturers of cars or car parts in Indiana, including Stutz and Studebaker in the 1900s. Today, all of them are gone and the state is home to three Asian motor companies, including Honda, Toyota, Subaru and arguably, U.K.-based Rolls Royce, which works on U.S. defense-related production.
According to Autos Drive America, Asian automotive production has outproduced U.S. automakers, driving much of the Midwest economy. These manufacturers employ 17,544 Hoosiers, produce 75 percent of total U.S. auto production, and contribute $19 billion to the state’s GSP. Indeed, manufacturing dances away with the show. Kokomo, an hour north of Indy — think driving the 101 from Hollywood to the 210 and getting off in Pasadena without traffic (I know it would never happen, but it does here) — announced in September 2023 a joint venture between The Netherlands-based Stellantis and South Korean Samsung SDI will build a new EV battery plant, creating 1400 new jobs. The city’s population in 2022 was 59,604 and will continue to grow.
After that information was released, another announcement was that six Korean restaurants will open in the area. Sokuri, serving Japanese and Korean food, opened in January and Sute, a fine-dining Korean barbecue eatery, plans to open in the coming weeks. Indy has 13 Southeast Asian places serving everything from hot pots to Asian-Latin fusion tacos. With the number of South Korean nationalists moving to Kokomo, the companies felt it would be wise to create a welcoming international atmosphere.
This Asian wave brings to mind the Christian Burmese who fled Myanmar, relocating for religious persecution from the Buddhist junta. Many fled seeking religious asylum, found it in Indiana: Greenwood, a community south of Indy, and Fort Wayne, the state’s second-largest city. The Hoosier State could be called Little Burma because it has the largest population of Burmese in the United States. If you ever dined on lahpet thoke (green tea leaf salad), a textural, umami delight, you will wonder how you ever ate an iceberg wedge with bottled Russian dressing.
One can argue that America’s heartland belongs to other countries. I see that differently; I know fewer people fly over our amber waves of grain as we become more about growing an economy that allows everyone to live where they please. We aren’t relegated to one coast or bi-coastal anymore. That’s so 20th century. Now, we are, as the tourism bureau for Illinois says, “The middle of everything.”
What do I think about it? I always ask, will the traditional foods of the Amish, Dutch and Germans who populated the state be mingled with kimchee and bulgogi? Think of a deep-fried Korean pork tenderloin slathered in a sauce of gochujang, a fermented red chili paste and maple syrup, served on gyeran-ppang, a bread crossed with a pancake and dinner roll or using Indiana pork to make jeyuk bokkeum, pork marinated in gochujang, with Hoosier grown potatoes such as Purple Chiefs or Yukon Golds.
I’ve always wanted to live in this country where the comingling of cultures is celebrated and brought together for growth and opportunity. Half a decade later, I’m seeing it come to fruition.
Korean-Inspired BBQ Meatloaf
Ingredients:
For the Meatloaf:
1 lb ground beef
1/2 lb ground pork
1/2 cup panko breadcrumbs
1/4 cup milk
One egg, beaten
Two cloves garlic, minced
One tablespoon ginger, grated
Two tablespoons gochujang (Korean red chili paste)
Two tablespoons soy sauce (or tamari for gluten-free)
One tablespoon of sesame oil
1/4 cup green onions, chopped
1/4 cup carrot, finely grated
1/4 cup onion, finely chopped
One teaspoon of sesame seeds
One tablespoon gochugaru (Korean red pepper flakes) – optional, for extra heat
For the Glaze:
1/4 cup ketchup
Two tablespoons gochujang
One tablespoon brown sugar
One teaspoon rice vinegar
Instructions:
Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease a loaf pan with butter of spay oil or line it with parchment paper. The latter assists in removing the loaf from the pan.
In a large bowl, mix the panko breadcrumbs and milk, allowing the breadcrumbs to absorb the milk. Add the ground beef, pork, egg, garlic, ginger, gochujang, soy sauce, sesame oil, green onions, grated carrot, chopped onion, sesame seeds, and gochugaru (if used). Mix until all ingredients are well integrated.
Transfer the mixture to loaf pan, pressing it down to form an even loaf. Or, do what I do, and fashion a free form loaf so much easier.
Mix the ketchup, gochujang, brown sugar, and rice vinegar in a small bowl. Spread half of the glaze over the meatloaf.
Bake the meatloaf in the oven for 45-50 minutes. Fifteen minutes before it’s done, remove the meatloaf and spread the remaining glaze on top. Return it to the oven to finish cooking.
When your remove the meatloaf from the oven, let it rest for about 10 minutes and then slice.. If you feel inspired by Korea, serve bap (rice) or the Pennsylvania Dutch, opt for buttered gluten-free egg noodles or mashed potatoes.
Noblesville Main Street’s Executive Director, Kate Baker, Shares Her Love for the Midwest Town and Her Mom’s Chili Recipe
Kate Baker, Courtesy of Kate Baker
I met Indiana-born Kate Baker, Executive Director of Noblesville Main Street, at a catering company’s tasting launching into weddings and events. I’m from Los Angeles and Kate lived there for a decade, too. At different times – I’m more than a decade older – we both worked in entertainment media relations, sending out screeners and ensuring celebs hit their red-carpet marks at events for studios and productions. She worked on the Emmys around television, and I worked on Oscar campaigns. We trundled with the photogs at the Golden Globes’ step and repeat, where the broadcast and cinema stars drink together. We even share a few of the same media friends on social media. Of course, there are hundreds of events in Los Angeles daily, with more journalists covering sports, fashion, and entertainment than anywhere in the world. Yet, far from the Hollywood klieg lights and the narcissistic movie and television industries, we found friendship in Indianapolis.
While I gingerly tread into the writing world – still trying to find my footing after nearly four years of living in Indiana – Kate found a calling into a tourism leadership role in one of the most vibrant and charming communities in the state, Noblesville. There is a resemblance to Napa County’s St. Helena, a delicious walking district outside of San Francisco, known for superb dining and charming independent shops to this sweet burg, roughly 45 minutes north of Indianapolis. They both offer a daytime destination from cities of approximately the same size and have more sole proprietorships than chains. According to Best Places, Indy has a slightly larger population than the Bay Area: 880,104 vs. 865,933, respectively. One of my favorite eating experiences in the 19th state occurred at 9th Street Bistro, where Chef Samir Mohammad creates superb dishes inspired by travels, he and his wife, Rachel Firestone, take annually.
A promotional post for Salsa on The Square in Noblesville Indiana. Courtesy Noblesville Main Street.
In 2019, Kate began overseeing multifaceted roles such as development, marketing, and other destination executive functions. Beyond focusing on the town’s renewal, which has more than 70,000 individuals, she practices her first love, music, volunteering as the assistant music director at Noblesville First United Methodist Church.
“Noblesville is not just my hometown; it’s the crucible that shaped my aspirations,” Baker said when she took the role. “As a denizen of Old Town, I cherish the opportunity to actively shape the evolution of our downtown culture. Noblesville Main Street epitomizes the rich tapestry of our city’s history, vibrancy, and irreplaceable charm. I eagerly anticipate the myriad ways in which we can bolster our community, ensuring it remains an inclusive haven for all.”
Buy Noblesville merchandise here: T-shirts, drinkware and even a snow globe!
FOOD QUESTIONS
What is your favorite food to cook at home? My mom’s chili recipe, which I make a little spicier. It is by far my favorite comfort food!
What do you always have in your fridge at home? Cheese, eggs, and milk. I realize now I’m addicted to dairy! (But don’t tell anyone about the container of frosting kept hidden in the side of the door for those moments you just need a taste of sweet. Ha ha ha!)
What marked characteristic do you love in a person you share a meal with? When I share a meal with someone, I love seeing their joy in the foods they love. In Noblesville, we have several amazing places that offer unmatched culinary experiences. My favorite thing to do is take someone to one of these places for the first time. I love to see them take their first bite and have that eyes-closed moment as they experience the taste sensation created by fresh ingredients, culinary expertise, and, above all, love.
What marked characteristic do you find unappealing in a person with whom you share a meal? I don’t enjoy sharing space with someone unwilling to try new things or dine without gratitude.
Beer, wine, or cocktail? Wine, wine, wine, wine!
Who is your favorite cookbook author? One of my best friends from college is from Puerto Rico. I have spent quite a bit of time there and was given a cookbook called “Puerto Rico True Flavors” by Wilo Benet. “This book has helped me create some really beautiful meals and has been a favorite of mine for more than 2 decades!
What is your favorite kitchen or bar tool? I cannot live without my espresso maker. Does this count?
Favorite types of cuisine to cook? Italian – and because basic pasta dishes make me feel empowered as its one of the only things I confidently make! My skills in the kitchen could be improved.
Beef, chicken, pork, seafood or tofu? Beef, but this girl loves surf and turf!
Favorite vegetable? A tie between broccoli, brussels sprouts, and butternut squash.
What chef or culinary person do you most admire? Jessica Walls at Debbie’s Daughters. Her thoughtfulness into her baked goods, her celebration of family, and the importance she places on consistency and quality for every morsel of every cookie, cake, or loaf of bread make her and her sisters’ food so special. You can taste the love in every single bite.
What food do you like the most? My favorite meal has a filet mignon, baked potato, and steamed broccoli.
What food do you dislike the most? Mushrooms. I haven’t entirely made my peace with fungus, but there are exceptions to this: hibachi style is one of those for me.
What is your favorite non-eating thing to do? Sing. I can’t imagine my life without music.
Whom do you most admire in food? My mom. There is nothing like homecooked meals by a parent/guardian who loves you.
Where is your favorite place to eat and drink outside the Midwest? This is a three-way tie, and all are in my old stomping grounds of Los Angeles: Palmeri Ristorante (Brentwood), Taverna Tony’s (Malibu), or Sugarfish (California).
What is your favorite restaurant? Impossible to pick just one! Currently, I can’t seem to stop craving 9th Street Bistro in Noblesville.
Moroccan Chicken, Courtesy of 9th Street Bistro
Who is/are the person/s with whom you would share your last meal? Last meal?! I can’t even fathom the last meal, let alone who I would invite! First thought would be my parents, but let’s be real – if it was my last meal, this would be a party including everyone I’ve ever loved.
A Midwest Chili Recipe from Mary Baker, Kate’s Mom
(Original recipe from my mom. I’ve made improvisations through the years in the heat and how I cook the meat, but this was a mother instructing her daughter who was newly on her own!)
1 bag of shredded cheese (your choice: I usually get Monterey Jack…or a blend)
1 bottle of tomato juice
1 container of sour cream
Crackers of your choice: Oyster. Regular saltines or whatever.
What to have on hand:
A big pot to pour everything into and hold your chili
Strainer
Can or another saucepan to put strainer onto to catch drippings from the ground chuck. Don’t drain it into your sink. Your drainpipe will eventually get clogged and be just a mess to clean out.
1. Use your largest pot and pour all cans of beans and diced tomatoes into it. Put on a burner on very low heat.
2. Put half of the beef into a microwave-safe bowl and break it apart with a fork. Microwave on high for about 3 minutes. Take it out and continue to break it up with a fork. Mike for another 2 minutes. Take it out and do the fork thing again till it’s the consistency you like. If the meat is still pink, cook it in one-minute intervals until it is fully cooked. When cooked through, dump it into the strainer and drain well. Put back in the bowl, and put one envelope of the seasoning mix into the ground chuck and mix in with fork. Pour beef into the tomato/bean mixture in the pot. Repeat with the rest of the meat.
3. Stir beef, tomatoes, and beans together and keep on low heat.
4. Fill a medium-sized saucepan about 3/4 full with hot water. Bring to a rolling boil on top of the stove. When boiling, add about 1 1/2 cups of macaroni. Turn the heat down, but continue to boil, stirring with a fork fairly often. After about 5 minutes, periodically take out one piece of macaroni….let it cool a bit….and taste it. When it is done to your liking, drain the pasta in the strainer. This time directly into the sink.
5. Pour drained pasta into the pot. Stir. Cover.
6. Chop onion and put it into a small Tupperware-type container with the lid snapped on. Put into fridge.
7. Cook chili on low heat, stirring every few minutes for about a half hour. Reduce heat to “simmer” and keep covered for as long as you want without overcooking it.
8. If the chili is too thick for your liking, add some tomato juice….a little at a time….until it is the thickness you want.
9. Serve with onions, cheese, sour cream and crackers.
10. Enjoy!!
(We might make a small commission on sales generated through affiliate links.)
It’s easy to meet your neighbors when you have dogs. Owners seem to be on the same schedule. It’s either before work or after, sometimes it’s in the afternoon when you work from home. Such as it is with Scott, whom I met as he rolled by on his skateboard with Indigo in tow. However, with her sylph-like form harnessed to her owner, it seemed that Indy pulled Scott like a husky. Indy is sweet to watch; she lopes with determination and zest, eager to exercise.
In comparison, I trundled by with George. Our chocolate lab loves every dog, and every dog loves him. Indy, a pit and whippet mix, can be rough and needs galloping runs with her skater Dad. The two canines have become friends—a quick sniff and off to their worlds. George is finding good goose poop to eat – a never-ending process – and Indy is potentially racing the Iditarod.
Growing up as a half-Filipino and half-Caucasian-American boy, I feel acutely drawn to people like me. We are unique. I thought Scott might be bi-racial, too. As it turns out it, he identifies as Chinese Jamaican, a small group of the country’s immigrants that settled in the Caribbean. The son of an American Irish-Scottish father and a Chinese mother, he was born in the Caribbean nation of Jamaica. Raised in Indiana, he, a digital artist, and his wife, Berlin, a teacher are now empty nesters.
Scott and Berlin Hughes Photo, Scott Hughes
Being the food lover I am, I immediately searched the internet for recipes from his Caribbean background. His cooking heritage includes many dishes such as stir-fried goat, jerk chicken chow mein, and char sui dahlpouri. The last dish, literally is a melting pot of cultures, with tastes from Southeast Asia, China, and the continent of Africa.
According to the National Library of Jamaica website, the Chinese, mostly Hakka, arrived as indentured servants to work the sugar plantations from 1854 until 1886. Three well-documented ships sailed with almost thousand immigrants during this period. Then, a second and third migration occurred from the early 20th century until the 1970s, mostly of individuals and entrepreneuers looking for better lives. The online publication Gal-Dem, dedicated to telling marginalized people’s stories, says that 50,000 Chinese Jamaicans live on the island today. During an ethnic revolt during the 1970s, several thousand Chinese Jamaicans moved to Canada and parts of the U.S. for safety.
When I learned that Scott was Chinese Jamaican, I took it upon myself to learn more. It’s a fascinating immigration story about how Asians and Pacific Islanders came to create a diverse culture in Caribbean history. Through this, I discovered that the first Filipino settlement occurred in a Louisana in 1763 with a group of enslaved people and other people of color. Even earlier, Filipinos sailors aboard a Spanish ship landed in Morro Bay, California in 1587, reports PBS So Cal Focus, 33 years before the pilgrims land at Plymouth Rock. With this said, discovery of North America most likely were not European but from the Asian diaspora.
In his words: Scott Hughes
I was born in Kingston, Jamaica in 1972. My father was American Scotch/Irish, and my mother was Chinese, whose parents came to China in the early 20th century. My mother’s people are called Hakka Chinese. They have a dialect but no longer speak it. They are native to Southern China but originally migrated to the region from the central part of China in ancient times. They are considered Han Chinese (a particular group which than moved to Southern China, before immigrating to Jamaica) and live in the traditional Hakka round houses.
Home grown scotch bonnets: Photo by Scott Hughes
My mother came to America through Catholic school connections and attended Marian College in the sixties when she met my father. They moved to Jamaica and lived with my mother’s family before migrating back to the U.S. in the seventies.
My uncle owned a small Jamaican eatery called Patties of Jamaica at the 52nd and Allisonville Road intersection. It has been there for over 40 years, now run by my cousin.
What is your favorite food to cook at home?
Jamaican food.
What do you always have in your fridge at home?
Scotch bonnet peppers that I grow.
What marked characteristic do you love in a person you share a meal with?
Trying new food.
What marked characteristic do you find unappealing in a person with whom you share a meal?
Where is your favorite place to eat/drink in the Midwest? Delicia
Where is your favorite place to eat and drink outside the Midwest?
New Orleans & Jamaica
What is your favorite restaurant?
Benyue Dim Sum House in Castleton.
Who is/are the person/s with whom you would share your last meal?
My wife.
Scott Hughes Recipe for Jerk Chicken
One medium onion, coarsely chopped
Three medium scallions chopped
3 Scotch bonnet chiles, chopped
Two garlic cloves, chopped
One tablespoon five-spice powder
1tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground fennel seeds
One tablespoon Jamaican allspice berries, coarsely ground
One tablespoon of coarsely ground black pepper
One teaspoon of fresh thyme
One teaspoon of freshly grated nutmeg
One teaspoon salt
1/2 cup soy sauce
One tablespoon of olive oil
¼ cup dark brown sugar
2 (3 1/2 to 4-pound) chickens, quartered
1tsp Chinese MSG (that’s right)
1 Lime to wash the chicken pieces with (Jamaican practice but not needed)
Prep chicken pieces by poking them with a fork to allow marinade to seep into the flesh. Rub chicken pieces with fresh lime (optional).
Use a blender to make spices into a marinade, and place chicken into a 1-2 1-gallon size freezer bag(s) and marinate for a day. If you need to use two freezer bags, split the marinade into both.
Bake or grill at around 415 degrees for approximately 40 -50 minutes, depending on the size of the pieces.
If baking, use a slotted pan to release the chicken drippings below. However, roasting the meat in a glass baking dish allows the spices and juices to bathe. It all comes out delicious.
You can adjust to a lower heat but add extra time to accommodate.
Best served with Jamaican rice and peas and a mango coleslaw
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