Imagine the humble, yet stunning, cinnamon roll. Though accessible and cheap, the flour, vanilla frosting, and ever-essential cinnamon are all from completely different corners of the globe. Only one of these is native to the Americas, yet it’s surprisingly not the “amber waves of grain,” but rather the high-maintenance and delicately domesticated vanilla bean. Wheat is an invasive species and widely cultivated in an incompatible way with Native American agricultural styles.

Because Europe discovered, invaded, and pillaged the Americas in the 1400s, there’s been a period of around 600 years to muddle public consciousness of where certain ingredients come from, as well as an erasure of local agricultural technology and technique. After all, if you get rid of the people who domesticated a spice or crop, then your people aren’t aware of those exploited to get it. If you destroy the evidence that a specific technology existed, then your people won’t feel angry over the alternative inefficiency, nor will they hesitate to destroy something that could have worked to their benefit. It’s not just a practice of forcing your people to be more reliant on their government, but it promotes a mindset of superiority and hostility towards outsiders. Our beautiful cinnamon roll, which could have been a testament to cultural enrichment and the accomplishments of modern trade systems, turns into an unassuming symbol of exploitation.

Aside from the dramatics of saying cinnamon rolls are a symbol of imperialism, what’s the alternative? To cultivate gratitude for what we have and to be mindful of the impact of our purchases, one of the first steps is to consider what's close to home. What were the first ingredients in America’s melting pot? What integrated into so many European staple foods?

600 years is a long time to forget that France is not the original homeland of chocolatiers. Cocoa beans and tomatoes are indigenous to Central America, which also means that salsa is older than marinara by a mile. English gentry imported potatoes from the Americas and introduced them to Irish farmers to encourage dependency on a cheap, easy crop. This way, the higher classes could demand more exclusive access to other agricultural goods, to the point where a mold–which killed the potato plants–induced a famine, affecting the lower class and the lower class alone. Meanwhile, the upper class across the world enjoyed imports of “exotic fruits” such as pineapple, strawberries, and plums.

In the region now known as the United States, people domesticated “the three sisters”: corn, beans, and squash. Like a merry-go-round of teamwork and self-sufficiency, each crop provides the others with what they need to grow and keep the soil fertile without crowding each other out. Other savory treasures include peanuts, cashews, butternuts, and pecans. Canada, of course, brings us the great gift of maple syrup.

If you want to bring Native American recipes to your table, many websites can serve as a hub of cultural exchange and preservation, such as PowWows.com. If you’d prefer an individual expert to guide your hand, a good place to start is Sean Sherman, a famous Sioux chef and author. No matter where your education begins, progress begins with acknowledging the history and living culture spread out across your kitchen counter