Rich FrancisIllustration by Chief Lady Bird
Rich Francis is the chef-owner of Seventh Fire Hospitality Group based in Six Nations, Ont., and Alberta. His inspiring culinary journey shows just how food and resilience go hand in hand.
Chef Francis has Haudenosaunee and Tetlit Gwich’in heritage. As a graduate of Stratford Chefs School, his success first came after appearing as a finalist on the fourth season of Top Chef Canada. Through this spotlight, he has launched a prominent culinary career, from documentary series to working with the United Nations.
By blending tradition and forward-thinking creativity, he raises awareness of the pivotal relationship between food sovereignty and security for Indigenous people.
What was your culinary journey?
I never ambitiously set out to be a chef. I was a carpenter before that. One summer, when Food Network was starting to become a household name, I would go home and turn it on and watch, and initially never think anything of it.
Then I took an interest in it, but I never cooked professionally at all. I told my wife at the time, after another series of heat strokes, that I lost the passion to be a carpenter, and I don’t want to do that anymore. She said, “What are you going to do?” I said, “I’m going to become a chef.”
She wasn’t too happy with that because I was doing very well. But as soon as I started cooking, there was something inside me that recognized a lot of things. Fast forward two years, and I finished culinary school at the top of my class. I was 26. I started late in the game.
When I was on Top Chef Canada, I was a finalist, and I had my Haudenosaunee flag above the Canadian flag on our chef jackets and that helped pave the way for myself as well. From getting that recognition on Top Chef, there was a ripple effect that I wasn’t prepared for. I was getting the opportunity to be part of a docu-series. It was a very good experience for me. I’m going to be producing my own stuff under the Seventh Fire production, using our own lens and our own voices.
How did you come up with the name Seventh Fire?
The Seventh Fire comes from the Seventh Fire prophecy. It’s an Anishnaabe-Ojibway teaching that specifies that the negative things that happened to us as Indigenous people were seven generations ago. We’re in a time now where there’s going to be something brand new, but we have to go back to the original ways to make that change. So, the food philosophy that I have is going back to the original ways and making something brand new that we haven’t really seen before.
How can you use traditional cooking methods and also create something brand new?
Through a lot of creativity. When you cook in a non-colonial way, you’re not cooking from memory anymore. You’re cooking from that time. As cliché as it sounds, you really are cooking from a sacred place. When you’re not cooking from memory, you’re able to make something great.
I’m not only just feeding people, but I also refuse to cook from that colonial point of view where people think it’s Bannock and all that. That was never us. I don’t cook from there. I try to focus more on the precolonial aspects of it. That’s the version of Indigenous food that I want people to see.
How does your Indigenous culture inform your work?
My knowledge of Indigenous food wasn’t that much before I started cooking. I came on to it as I started to become more of a chef.
I lived in the Northwest Territories early on. I lived off the land and learned my own language. When I went to school off-reserve, I remember bringing some traditional foods for lunch … and kids were mean. So, I didn’t want to be who I was. I hated the colour of my skin. I didn’t want to speak my language anymore. I didn’t want to eat that way. I lived in this other world for so long, and it wasn’t until I became a chef that I started to self-identify who I was. Food has that amazing ability, through our food DNA, to get back to who we are.
My dad is Tetlit Gwich’in, from the Northwest Territories, and my mom is Mohawk Haudenosaunee from Six Nations, Ont. I’m from Turtle Island, so I cook without borders. I take a bit of this and a bit of this and see what I can come up with. I cook with a lot of our traditional medicines. I make this signature salmon dish using the four medicines. I started with cedar, sweetgrass, sage and tobacco. It’s just a remarkable piece of fish.
Food can help us find ourselves and to get back to who we are. Being a chef. It’s allowed me to focus on my roots and find my way.
Where and for whom do you cook?
Most of my work is all over Canada, mostly in First Nations communities. Partially because it’s illegal to do what I’m doing using the Indigenous products that I use. For example, for me to use a beluga whale, which I have, there’s nowhere in Canada that you can do that. We can use it, but we can’t profit from it. So, by doing these dinners, I’m forced to go, ironically, to Treaty or Indigenous lands, where we were starved in the first place, because it gives me sanctuary and the freedom to do what I need to do.
There’s a $60,000 fine that’s attached to serving narwhal or beluga specifically. It’s frustrating, but it’s something I still do. And the people that get it for me are Indigenous.
I’m using these animals to convey a message. It’s a unique experience. People are coming from all over North America to have these dinners.
How do Indigenous recipes get passed down?
Most of it is oral tradition. That’s why there’s this big sense of urgency right now, because when we look at Indigenous language and Indigenous food pathways, that generation that knew all of the language is dying off.
When you talk about [food sovereignty], you have to talk about the languages as well, because they come together. There is a language conference where I was invited to talk about how that’s part of food security.
How are you feeling about the food crisis for Indigenous people in Canada, especially in remote communities?
I look at that as a form of genocide. I’ve seen it in my own eyes – $17 for a box of Kraft Dinner. It’s insane. The food that is sent to these places basically has an infinite shelf life and it’s highly processed food that our bodies can’t process. The fresh fruit is already off. It’s a very difficult thing to deal with. No Indigenous person should be living in poverty because of where these resources are coming from.
How does your work address these issues?
My work that I’m doing is with Indigenous foods. My initiative is to change the way people think, feel and behave towards Indigenous food. That’s what gets me out of bed in the morning.
I’m working with the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations. This work comes as a huge responsibility. I’m also working with Sodexo, a global hospitality company in North America, to help raise awareness.
How does Indigenous food differ based on region?
It’s very complex. It depends on where you are. The food system from a First Nation that’s in B.C. is way different than if you look at a Cree nation here in the Plains or in Saskatchewan. Yet you still see that colonial footprint. There’s always Bannock.
How would you describe colonial cooking?
There were the five white gifts that were given to us through the colonial reserve system. There were the rations: white flour, milk, salt, lard and sugar. Those were the foundation of diabetes and obesity within our communities.
There’s the part where I took cooking as an art form, but there’s also this message that we have to evolve because we are eating ourselves to death.
Are there a lot of Indigenous chefs?
There are not a lot of Indigenous chefs, but there are some, and we are all aware of each other. There is collaboration, but not a lot of people are cooking precolonial. So, it can be pretty lonely sometimes.
Where do you source your ingredients?
For my work, I pull the best. I have no problem using moose or elk from Newfoundland, for example. A lot of the fruits and vegetables that I do use are local. Having these 500-year-old ancestral seeds, that’s pretty awesome when you think about it.
Have you ever thought about opening an Indigenous restaurant?
I’ve wanted to put a restaurant in Kahnawake, which is right next to Montreal, the food capital of Canada … having that sanctuary that I’d need to properly express myself.
What would you say to Indigenous youth who might want to work in the culinary world?
You really got to love it. At the beginning, it was hard. I had two young kids at the time living in Toronto. It was horrible, but as soon as I focused on the Indigenous side, I started to thrive. Now, I’m producing my own stuff. Food has provided me with an experience that I also never would have had if I didn’t focus on Indigenous food. The key is to find your own voice.
How do you want non-Indigenous people to perceive Indigenous food?
I’m just asking people to keep an open mind about Indigenous foods, and to consider all these aspects of Indigenous food sovereignty and why things are the way they are.
About the series
Canada has a long history of dispossession, oppression and discrimination of Indigenous peoples. The future, however, is filled with hope. The Indigenous population is the fastest-growing demographic in Canada; its youth are catalyzing change from coast to coast to coast. Indigenous knowledge and teachings are guiding innovative approaches to environmental protection and holistic wellness worldwide. Indigenous scholars are among those leading the way in exciting new research in science, business and beyond. There is no better or more urgent time to understand and celebrate the importance of Indigenous insight, culture and perspective.
Optimism is rare in media. And coverage of Indigenous peoples often fails to capture their brilliance, diversity and strength. In this weekly interview series, we will engage Indigenous leaders in thoughtful conversation and showcase their stories, strategies, challenges and achievements.
Karl Moore is a professor at the Desautels Faculty of Management, McGill University, in Montreal. He is also an associate fellow at Green Templeton College at Oxford University. He was the host of a long-running video series for The Globe and Mail in which he interviewed chief executive officers and business professors from the top universities in the world. His column, Rethinking Leadership, has been published at Forbes.com since 2011. He has established a global reputation for his research and writing on leadership, and he has interviewed more than 1,000 leaders, including CEOs, prime ministers and generals.
Jennifer Robinson is a resident physician at McGill University Health Centre in Montreal. She has been a consultant on health care and health policy in British Columbia and for the Assembly of First Nations. She is Algonquin and a member of the Timiskaming First Nation.