Fusion of the Soul: Reclaiming Ancestral Foodways from the Prairie to the Pacific

NHM Online Presents L.A. Culture in a Cup, a year-long initiative celebrating the stories of the diversity of Los Angeles and its people through the lens of the beverages and their significant vessels that bring us together.

Pyet DeSpain is a chef whose work serves as a living bridge between her Native American and Mexican-American heritage. Through her business, Pyet’s Plate, she has moved beyond standard culinary training to focus on "Indigenous Fusion"—a mission to highlight ancestral ingredients that were present long before colonial influences reshaped the American palate. For Pyet, a cup of tea is not just a beverage; it is a vessel for ceremony, a connection to "Source," and a way to honor the diverse roots that define her life in Los Angeles.

A chef, food advocate, and member of the Prairie Band Potawatomi Nation, Pyet DeSpain’s cooking is rooted in her Mexican and Indigenous heritage. Through familiar ingredients and ancestral foods, she creates a cuisine that connects cultures, places, and generations—inviting us to see Indigenous food in new ways.

Natural History Museums of Los Angeles County

How did your journey lead you to Los Angeles? 

I moved here about nine years ago from Kansas City. I was just two years into operating Pyet’s Plate, focusing on nutrition, but I had a hard time gaining traction in the Midwest. Kansas felt isolated regarding forward-thinking foodways. L.A. felt like a calling because of the plethora of variety and the opportunity for private chefs to implement new lifestyles. I packed what would fit in my car and drove across the country with my cat. 

I have a different concept and perspective of what home is now. It's not really a place, it's a feeling.

Living here has changed my perspective on "home". I’ve moved so much in my life—between Oklahoma and Kansas—that I never tied a place to being home. Home is a feeling now. It resonates with the people I am with. Whether I am with my family or building a life here with my husband, Eric Hernandez, that is where my heart is.

Can you recall your first memories of the flavors that shaped your cultural identity? 

I grew up fantasizing about tea time. My mom was adopted, and during the year my mom and my grandmother reconnected—while my mom was pregnant with me—they went to a tea parlor in Pawhuska, Oklahoma. They had these ridiculously big hats and were having tea, and that was a bonding moment for my mom and my grandmother. When we think about beverages in my family, it's always a time where the women in our family sit down, talk, laugh, and giggle.

Tea is very sacred in a way that you're honoring the plants and the animals.

On my Mexican side, the lineage is complicated. My DNA results trace to Juarez, Mexico, but I grew up culturally Mexican through my grandmother. Though she was technically Spanish-French, she spoke fluent Spanish, cooked Mexican food, and was highly respected in that community. Her own "awakening" was a neighbor's gift of fresh flour tortillas with cesos and warm butter. I grew up gravitating toward the bright jars of agua fresca on the counters, specifically the magnetic color and hydrating flavor of jamaica (hibiscus).

How did "Pyet’s Plate" evolve from a wellness business into a mission for Indigenous food advocacy? 

Culinary school taught me I could be a private chef and an entrepreneur rather than working in a restaurant. But a few years ago, I hit a real-life burnout. I was cooking for up to 17 clients a week, making Paleo or Keto meals that I felt no connection to. I was crying in 9 AM traffic on a Monday morning in downtown L.A., realizing I was tapped out. 

I asked myself: "If money weren't an issue, what would I want to spend my life doing?" I realized I wanted to represent my true self. I saw other chefs celebrating their countries, but Indigenous foods weren't being highlighted at the table. I started researching what my ancestors ate before colonization. It brought up joy, anger, and a need to understand why these conversations were lost. It turned my work into food advocacy and sovereignty.

The more research I did, the more I became overwhelmed with warmness, anger, and joy. It turned my work into food advocacy and sovereignty.

You identify as multicultural. How do you navigate the intersection of being Mexican-American and a member of the Prairie Band Potawatomi Nation? 

I am a fusion, so my cuisine is a fusion. I am a member of the Prairie Band Potawatomi Nation. My people were originally from Lake Michigan but were relocated in the 1830s, walking the "Trail of Death" to Kansas. 

The border created a false separation between "Mexican" and "Indigenous," but the truth is that many Mexican people are Indigenous, too. I call it Indigenous Fusion to introduce the concept in baby steps through familiar flavors. I use Mexican food as a "carrier" for the message, introducing deeper Indigenous history through the ingredients.

My cuisine is a fusion, because I am a fusion.

Cooking alongside members of her Potawatomi community is a living connection to her ancestors and a celebration of Indigenous food sovereignty. Bringing Indigenous flavors to the table through her concept of "Indigenous Fusion" allows Chef Pyet to reclaim lost conversations, uplift original foodways, and share the therapeutic power of coming together to cook, speak, and share stories.

Chef Pyet

Which drink tells the story of this cultural reconnection for you? 

It is my Hibiscus and Prickly Pear tea, sweetened with maple syrup. Prickly pear and hibiscus thrive here in California and Mexico. The maple represents the Great Lakes region where my people are from; maple tapping is a sacred time of year for us. This drink is a nod to my current location and my ancestral home. 

I’ve also been exploring mocktails because I stopped drinking alcohol at the beginning of the year. I want to create interesting drinks that aren't just a bunch of sugar, but instead use my own syrups and tinctures.

How do you build community and support the next generation through food? 

I spend a lot of time with Indigenous youth, teaching them food sovereignty. I created "Indigenous Foodways Bingo" where I give them riddles about plants and animals. If they figure it out, I gift them something culturally relevant, like wild rice or blue corn. 

For me, ceremony isn't just a formal event. Catching up over a matcha or a smoothie is ceremonial because we are sharing energy, stories, and prayer. Historically, Indigenous women had to sneak around to speak their language and share stories because it was outlawed. Today, coming together to share a beverage is therapeutic and healing.

Coming together to share a beverage, time, and laughter is therapeutic and healing.

Chef Pyet sees gathering over a beverage as a kind of ceremony—an opportunity to share energy, stories, laughter, and connection. Her tea carries that spirit from the kitchen to the table.

Natural History Museums of Los Angeles County

Explore more from Pyet’s Plate

To learn more about Indigenous fusion and food advocacy, follow Pyet’s journey at pyetsplate.com or through her book, Burned and Fire.

What’s your L.A. CUP Story? 

Do you know an L.A. beverage crafter who lovingly connects to your community? Join the conversation by tagging @NHMLA with #LACultureinaCup!