Food as Ceremony, Food as Relationship in the Stó:lo Nation

For Heritage BC’s “Stir the Pot” theme, a powerful local lens is the way food has long served as both a sacred responsibility and a social glue in Stó:lō communities—nourishing bodies, yes, but also affirming relationships: with the river, with salmon, with family, with guests, and with future generations.

In Stó:lō life, food is inseparable from place—especially the Fraser River—and from teachings about reciprocity and care. Foods like salmon (alongside many other harvested foods) are not only “resources,” but part of an ongoing relationship: taken with respect, shared with intention, and remembered through story.

Aerial view of the Fraser River near Kent/Agassiz. Image Credit: Pacific Salmon Foundation - www.psf.ca

To keep this post practical (and to honour how food traditions live through doing), we're sharing three simple recipe cards you can try at home. They’re not presented as “the” way—because practices and teachings vary by family and community—but as gentle invitations to reflect on what it means to cook with gratitude, to gather with care, and to share food with intention.

A warm pot is one of the simplest ways to make room for relationship—something meant to be served, shared, and eaten slowly while conversation travels around the table.

A simple soup meant for serving, sharing, and lingering.

A clear example often shared publicly is the First Salmon Ceremony, held by Stó:lō peoples along the Fraser. It is described as a way of honouring the salmon for sustaining the people, with the first catch prepared and shared among those present—underscoring that nourishment is communal, and that gratitude and protocol matter. (Details vary by community and family, and that variation is part of what makes it living tradition.)

Food also plays a central role in visiting, witnessing, and strengthening bonds. Teaching materials on Stó:lō social life describe feasting as a longstanding practice that supports friendships, visiting, and community connection—reminding us that hospitality isn’t “extra,” it’s structure. When we gather around food, we’re not just eating; we’re reaffirming who we belong to and what we owe one another.

This is a spring-leaning recipe that carries a quiet teaching: food knowledge includes how to harvest and prepare safely. The care is part of the practice—and it’s often learned side by side.

Gathered carefully, prepared safely, shared simply.

If you’re sharing this topic for Heritage Week, a good, respectful invitation is: listen to Stó:lō voices, attend public cultural events when invited, and support Indigenous-led food initiatives—because relationship-building is not only historical; it’s ongoing.

Some foods are also “season signals”—a small way to notice the land’s timing and to share what’s available in the moment.

A small taste that marks the season—food as calendar, food as memory.

What’s one food you associate with welcome—the dish that means “you’re safe here” or “you matter here”? Share a memory (and if it’s part of a specific culture or community, share what you’re comfortable sharing).