From Indigenous chef Nephi Craig, a searing personal and cultural reckoning about the power of food to heal intergenerational wounds
When Nephi Craig enrolled in the culinary program at Scottsdale Community College, it was out of necessity after a felony arrest led to a judge’s work or prison. Expecting little more than a means to an end, he quickly discovered a talent and passion for cooking. He also experienced a profound dissonance as the only Indigenous person in the kitchen, preparing European recipes that—disguised by their French and Italian names—relied on ingredients native to the Americas. This experience, along with his roaming childhood on the White Mountain Apache and Navajo reservations, led him to trace the buried histories of Indigenous cultivars such as tomato, cacao, and amaranth, each one a portal into possibility as well as a marker of the violent legacy of colonization. Craig’s mission to build Indigenous food sovereignty and to showcase Native peoples’ rich cuisines led him around the world, from top fine-dining restaurants in the United States to high-profile banquets in Brazil, England, Germany, and Japan. All the while, though, Craig wrestled with addiction, entering one treatment center after another in the hopes that he could get—and remain—sober.
In the heat, frenzy, and collaborative energy of restaurant kitchens, Craig found a lifeline. But when he was faced with the difficult decision of choosing between a career-defining executive chef job and an opportunity to serve his community back on the Rez, he realized his true vocation. Interweaving personal reflection with searing cultural insight, Craig lays bare the ongoing traumas wrought by colonial violence as well as the power in claiming our own ancestral intelligence. His book offers a vision of one where food is decolonized, history is honored, and healing is possible.
Growing up, Craig had dreams of being a professional skateboarder—it was something of an accident (literal and figurative, I guess) that landed him in culinary school instead. It was culinary school that would get him out of the hole he'd found himself in...but it was a new look at traditional, Indigenous cooking that would ultimately pull him out of the holes that followed.
I didn't learn any of this in culinary school. During my formal education as a chef, the subject of Native foods never came up. The message I received from teachers and mentors, again and again, was loud and clear: When it came to cooking, all things French reigned supreme. (loc. 149*)
I'm perennially curious about stories and backgrounds that are not my own, and I have a growing list of books by Indigenous writers that I'm gradually working through (mostly while visiting my mother, whose library is much better for this than mine). Conveniently, Our Knives Will Save Us overlaps with another reading interest of mine, food memoir—the hook was baited, and this reader was caught.
This makes for a complicated story about family, heritage, addiction, loss, and coming home again. I love how much discussion of traditional foods Craig includes, as well as how clearly he calls out the ways in which Native cooking has been erased from history (or rather, appropriated by other cultures). I'm a rather disinterested cook (to the eternal dismay of my spouse), but I would cheerfully pore over a full book of recipes from Craig, ideally with even more history and context. (Would I make these recipes? Uh...I'd give the book to my mother, who is a much more interested cook than I, and then I'd hope she chose to make something with neither meat nor tomatoes.) I also love how straightforward he is in telling his story; when he makes excuses, it's in the context of coming back around and realizing that the excuses are just that, and gradually moving forward to make the changes he needs to make. A good one for those interested in memoir, Indigenous voices, food, recovery stories, and history.
*Quotes are from an ARC and may not be final.
Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley.
This is a chef memoir, but it's definitely not the typical chef memoir moaning about how tough kitchen work is as well as how difficult the uptight chefs who run the kitchens were. This one was so very much more than that.
First, the title was interesting. By the end it made perfect sense and it was a great title for the book. Craig did tell of the determination it took to get the training and to endure the hardships of "kitchen life." But this was so much more. It was about family, tradition, food, history, rez life, culture, the firm grasp of addition, and eventually beating addiction and yet that description barely scratches the surface.
This was inspiring and I love memoirs with a message. This one had that. So 5 full stars.
The audiobook, read by the author, was fantastically done. This memoir is, at its heart, a love letter to indigenous history in the best and most heartbreaking way. Following the author as he fights to balance his addiction with his love for his native culture and food, falling again and again, this memoir hit hard. The ultimate theme, that survival is decolonization, was something I think all of us need to hear. Everything is touched by colonization, family, food and especially the genetic harm of generational trauma.
(ARC review) but also writing this review after publication I wish i can give the rating for this book a 6, because it was genuinely honest about addiction, replease, and recovery, the research and everything I learned about indigenous ingredients we use everyday in recipes that are native to the Americas before Colonization and since then erasure of indigenous people cultures, traditions and how they cultivated their foods weren't spoken about. Our Chef and author Nephi Craig teaches us through this memoir decolonize our view on food, have hope and support for those struggling in addiction. The intergenerational struggles of indigenous population in reservation who are starving and with a lack of health options of food and groceries and under mental health crisis. I have to admit that from the first moment i first saw this book, I knew it would be powerful and alter the way I saw things in these subjects above, once the book came out I want to purchase it and highlighted and noted the book.
Most meaningful book I have read this summer. This journey of identity, love, recovery,and decolonization wraps in histories of Indigenous foods and the author’s mission to bring native foods to the table and as a tool to heal.
3.5 stars. I enjoy reading about different cultures. This memoir looks at both Native American food heritage and addiction. Hoping to get book autographed at National Book Festival.
Man, you love to see a success story. I was really moved by this powerful memoir. Nephi Craig comes across as someone who has approached recovery with extraordinary persistence and food with insatiable curiosity—and who is willing to do the damn work.
I really respected his transparency about the dozen-plus rehabs and relapses that preceded his recovery. And I appreciated how much of that story is tied up in his relationship with his father, his White Apache identity, his family, and the mentors—both in recovery and in the kitchen—who helped him along the way. It’s an addiction narrative that’s messy, hard-won, and ongoing.
So much of what Craig knows about Indigenous food is self-taught, the result of following his curiosity wherever it leads him. He seems to approach food with the same intensity and openness he brings to recovery (or is it the other way around?): ask questions, learn everything you can, keep going.
This book overlaps with a lot of my interests: addiction, food, and indigenous folks (especially in Arizona). Such a good read and I learned a ton. Learning more about indigenous foods was so interesting! Also, as an ICU nurse who witnesses a lot of death from alcoholism, it was really valuable to read a hopeful story about sustained sobriety.
This book absolutely wrecked me because it hit so close to home for me: living and working with Native people in the magical, timeless landscape of Arizona for years, being a pastry chef myself for more years than that, pursuing anthropological foodways, living with and loving a lifelong alcoholic and all of the trauma that brings. Despite the vast differences between a White Mountain Apache male and me, a Midwestern white girl, when you’re in the back of the house working the line we all become one.
LOTS of trigger warnings: death, alcoholism, divorce, emotional abuse, drug use, child sexual abuse.
I’ll be thinking about this book for a long time to come. Nephi Craig should be up there with the great chefs I grew up idolizing.
This made me stop and take a minute and start looking at ingredients in meals and where they come from/represent. A good story on addiction and how cooking and a passion led to recovery and growth. I’m really glad multiple people never gave up and always tried to extend a hand when the author kept making mistakes. It just goes to show there are still great people in this world. I also really enjoyed the perseverance of the author continuing to send in applications to Mary Elanies over and over. It shows if you really want something keep working even if you fail you might not the next time. Even though things were rough for Nephi, I’m glad he got the opportunity to go to Brazil and meet Yone and all the other special people who shaped him along the way. So many life changing events and Nephi kept going. Such a special thing. I’m so glad Cafè Gozhóó was able to open and create the safe place it did for Nephi, People on the Rez, Addicts, and more.
Nephi Craig (b. 1980) is a White Mountain Apache and Diné chef whose 2026 memoir Our Knives Will Save Us recounts his culinary career, repeated struggles with addiction and relapse, and eventual return to the White Mountain Apache reservation. His father, Vincent Craig, was a well-known Diné singer, songwriter, humorist, and creator of the Mutton Man comic character; his illness and death from cancer at 59 form an important part of the memoir.
Craig has lived an interesting life, particularly professionally. Cooking repeatedly provided some structure during years otherwise marked by addiction, rehab, jail, unstable relationships, and relapses, and eventually became a way for him to reconnect with Indigenous culinary traditions and his community. He has now been sober for roughly fifteen years and works at the Rainbow Treatment Center in Whiteriver, Arizona, where he also runs Café Gozhóó.
I nevertheless kept noticing an odd passivity in the way Craig sometimes describes events he himself caused or actively participated in. There are many instances where he describes waking up in jail and learning that there had apparently been an altercation in which he assaulted police officers. After enough examples, I wanted somewhat more direct ownership of his own agency rather than events being narrated as things that had simply happened around or to him.
I also occasionally questioned whether I was getting enough context to understand some of his decisions. Late in the book, for example, Craig describes choosing between what sounds like a major executive-chef opportunity in Washington, D.C., and returning to Whiteriver to help rebuild the food program associated with a treatment center. Given the career trajectory described up to that point, the choice is consequential enough that I wanted considerably more explanation of how and why he made it.
As with many memoirs written by younger authors, I was left wondering what this book might look like after another twenty years of distance. There is real reflection here, particularly around addiction, family, food, and recovery, but some of it still feels unfinished. Craig's sobriety is already a substantial accomplishment; I suspect a later version of this story might have had more to say about what those years ultimately meant.
My statistics: Book 189 for 2026 Book 2495 cumulatively
Nephi Craig, having been born of goodly parents, still sees lots of ways the world is deeply messed up, and he decides not just to eat but to cook his feelings--and eventually, it actually works.
This is one of my favorite books from 2026. In many ways that's not surprising, given that it's set in various locations in Arizona, is about gardening and food, and even has a Mormon connection (it's not huge, but the guy's name is Nephi after all, which was one reason I knew I had to read it). It's just so good! It's emotionally, spiritually, and intellectually rich. It's about hope and recovery postapocalypse and what will really heal us. Highly recommended.
Well I do love a chef memoir and this one is very good!
Craig describes learning to cook at home and then putting that skill to use when he needed a vocation. Ultimately he created a foundation to highlight Native food and cooking but was often derailed by alcohol and drug use.
I was always rooting for Craig but this is kind of a sad book! Addiction is no joke and I hope Craig can stay in recovery because he is good at sharing Native cuisine and uplifting the people who work for him.
Not familiar with the author but was super intrigued by the title and the summary. Nephi Craig tells the reader of his life and how he became a chef. From a childhood on the reservations to eventually ending up with some bad situations led him to a kitchen. Except there, as the only Indigenous person, he was making European foods with ingredients from the Americas. Eventually his journey leads him to become the nutritional recovery program coordinator at the White Mountain Apache tribe-owned Rainbow Treatment Center in Arizona, as well as the Café Gozhóó.
Craig takes us through his early childhood and family. Unfortunately like many Indigenous and Native peoples he also has to deal with intergenerational trauma and struggles. From narrowing escaping a sexual assault as a child, he starts drinking at a young age, which eventually leads him to jail. He has multiple stints in rehab, struggles with relationships and holding a stable job, etc. But eventually he does turn his life around.
This was okay. I thought Craig has a super fascinating story but it was very rambly and it was hard to hold my attention. Craig apparently had a co-writer but a stronger editor would have helped. There was too much detail for me, almost like he wanted to get every part of his story out. Which is understandable but made this otherwise difficult to get through.
Still, though, I did appreciate overall that Craig eventually became sober and appears to have settled (in a positive sense!) into his life. I am glad he is here to tell his story. If you are interested in him or his work or his journey, this might be a good read for you.
Thank you to Penguin Random House for providing this book for review via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.
4.5/5
To start, I really enjoyed this book. The writing feels conversational and I would be very interested in listening to an audiobook version. Anyone who is interested in generational trauma or food, this book is for you. I happen to love both.
Craig describes the relationships between colonialism, generational trauma, and food. I got curious about indigenous foods after trying paw paw for the first time last year. Craig highlights the American foods that you will never see in a grocery store, but grow so close to us. Some of the reflections feel a little clunky but he succeeded in increasing my interest in native foods and foraging.
In this excerpt from Our Knives Will Save Us (at pp. 243/244), Chef Nephi Craig (31) has just returned to his family (mother, father, pre-teen son) after an absence of four months of non-sobriety. His son tells him ---
"You really hurt me when I was small, Dad. I didn't like you," Ari spoke matter-of-factly, his voice neither warm nor angry. "You smelled like smoke when you came home. I'd hide under the bed, but you'd come pull me out and tell me to hang with you, but I didn't want to."
Every word felt like a bee stin, making me flinch. Emotioanlly intelligent beyondhis years, Ari softened the blow by acknowledging the offering I'd tucked into the letter for Kim [Craig's then-wife and Ari's mother].
"Mom gave me the drawing you sent, and I hung it in my room."
[In the picture, Nephi had drawn] a broken heart with a Band-Aid across it and dragon wings coming out of it, shading it carefully, Dad's gonns be okay, I wrote next to it.
"I liked your picture," Ari smiled now. "I hope your heart gets better, Dad, so I can come stay with you more. Mom says she wants me to see you, but not when you are drinking."
. . . . Tears streamed down my cheeks.....
. . . . . . . .
It's a moment that, years later, plays in my mind like a movie, suspended in time. Woody [rehab counselor] had often told us, "You will never 'fix' your problems, you'll only learn to carry them."
* * *
[My note: The last line differed a bit from that I had thought I had discovered about life and loss. I learned that one doesn't 'get over' something, but in fact 'gets through' it. I now think that one simply learns to carry it. It is a gift when there are random moments when I can carry Jen into the 'now' rather than leaving her behind.]
(And at p. 257) I printed out three big signs that day, taping together multiple sheets of paper to make long, skinny banners.
I hung MENTAL MIS EN PLACE just above the stainless steel double sink. At this point, every single person in that kitchen had heard me talk about how working in the kitchen was an opportunity to clear our heads and be fully present, practicing putting aside any negative thoughts and problems that made our lives outside this place feel out of control.
The PARTICIPATE IN YOUR OWN EVOLUTION sign went above the door to my office. I hoped that by living my recovery publicly, I might encourage others to make positive changes in their lives.
Lastly, I hung SENSE OF URGENCY above the wall clock mounted just inside our swinging doors. It was a popular kitchen phrase coined by Thomas Keller of the French Laundry, an appropriate motto for a bustling resaurant kitchen. For me, the phrase held a deeper, more personal significance--it felt imperative that I share the story of Indigenous foods with other people who needed to hear or relearn it. Over the years, the knowledge I'd gathered had propelled me forward when everything else seemed hopeless. Thinking about how centuries of brutal history had disconnected our people from healthy, sustainable food traditions--and all that could be gained from reviving them--had given me a sense of purpose. I wanted to bring others in my community along.
I did like this very much, and it was easy to read, but as a Tohono O'odham/Pueblo woman I had to laugh a lot at this White Mountain Apache talking about Indigenous knowledge gained by his people. The Apaches have only lived in the Southwestern area of present day United States for about 1000 years. The knowledge they have of food sources was knowledge that was gathered by Pueblo and O'odham people and passed on to the Apaches. (Or it was stolen by the Apaches, depending what day you want to tell the story.) So yes, Apaches have figured it out, but I would point it that O'odham and Pueblo people figured it out thousands of years before Apaches did. Also, the corn and amaranth and other plants that made their way north from South America was traded and cultivated by Indigenous groups that were definitely not Apache people, so it's amusing and a little eye rolling that Nephi Craig spends very, very little time giving credit to the people who actually did the heavy lifting of making nutritious, sustainable food sources in the desert landscapes of their homes, and graciously shared this knowledge with the Apaches when they first showed up in our territory.
But picky Native quibbles aside, this was a nice book to read, and a great history of the crops of the Americas, crops that are so prevalent that the world now thinks of them as "theirs" such as tomatoes, potatoes, and chiles. The book focuses a lot on Craig's recovery from addiction, which was really hard to read because it hit really close to home, and reminded me of relationships I have with my own Native friends and family. However, at the end of the book Craig compares getting and staying sober as an act of rebellion, and I really liked that idea.
I would have given this book one more star had it been any other tribal member, but the O'odham/Pueblo in me thinks three stars if perfect.
(Note I received an advanced reader copy of this book courtesy of NetGalley)
Besides covering his own triumphs and tragedies, Nephi Craig takes on decolonization, addiction and recovery, and mental health (amongst other issues ) and their deep entanglement with one another. And the way they’re all discussed inside the context of Craig’s own life, this leads to quite the genuinely informative experience given the complexity of these subjects and the way that they’re often presented to us in the abstract. Also, combined with all that Craig imparts about indigenous food traditions, Our Knives Will Save Us is one of those works that ends up being an extremely effective mini-educations packed within a single book. And besides providing a bounty for the mind, this unhesitantly honest memoir also provides an abundance for the spirit as well, and at least in my case has provided plenty for me to reflect deeply upon in the immediate aftermath. On top of that, as someone who has faced my own mental and emotional health trials, I am always deeply appreciative when someone out there is so willing to openly share their challenges.
Like the indigenous-inspired dishes that Craig develops and serves in his community, there’s a straightforward simplicity here that’s also deep and multileveled in its richness. So far, this is definitely my most memorable memoir read of 2026, and one that I’ll be eagerly recommending to others in the immediate future.
So so so good. One of my favourite memoirs this year. Will yap about and recommend to anyone who will listen. Enthusiastically buying another copy for a Native friend.
The descriptions of food made me SO hungry. But also, this book made me go to the store and get back into cooking my own food from scratch, which has been really therapeutic for me.
I think anyone who struggles with addiction or has watched someone struggle with addiction and recovery will find a lot they connect with in this book. But Nephi’s writing is fantastic and can connect with people who haven’t directly dealt with that particular struggle either, because it’s easy to connect with his experiences if you’ve had any sort of setback in life.
I’ve never gone out of my way to learn about Native American’s or their culture, and listening to this book showed a real gap not only in my own understanding but also the American education system. How were we not taught about this sort of thing? I’ve lived in so many places with native tribes close by and our public education never taught us a single thing. Hell, even my year of PRIVATE education has never taught me a single thing. The amount of underrepresentation Native tribes and people live with every day is staggering to even consider. I appreciate having even a small glimpse into these communities this book has offered. It was something I didn’t realize I needed.
I laughed. I cried. I winced in pain and cried some more.
It's truly painful how long the story of addiction is. It's not a one and done in your youth and you get better. It's relapsing. It's spiraling. It's loss and work and suffering. Finding those things to keep you rooted - literal roots of native plants and foods being the metaphorical roots to ground you in this world.
Food brings people together at a table of course, but Nephi Craig shows us here that food also acts as a tangible result of work. Progress and healing isn't something we can always see, but having proof of hard work - increased skills, new foods, reactions to people enjoying what you share - gives visible fruits of your labor to admire.
I really enjoyed his story. People can talk about how food or cooking helps with various things in their lives. Here you can really see how food and especially returning to native roots in those foods gives a direction in his life, tethering the spirit to something that will forever be Home.
Emotions aside, the way he structures his story is well thought out and paced. In the beginning we're told how he was selling his prized Japanese knives, and through the story we watch as he struggles through addiction, waiting to see when he gets his knives, knowing that he still won't be free from his addiction still even when he's traveling and sharing his food and culture all over the world. It's a kind of tragic suspense.
"A big part of decolonization is figuring out how to move through our everyday lives in a way that replaces division, consumption, turmoil, and confusion with connection, creativity, stability, and purpose. The homefront is just as important as the battlefield--it's where we can alter our realities by caring for each other and building healthier, more resilient communities. Two decades of addiction and dependency had shown me that I was tough enough to survive shattering violence and loss, but was I tough enough to be gentle, was I tough enough to be humble? Was I tough enough to be loving and patient?" Nephi Craig is White Mountain Apache & Diné, who is the executive chef of Café Gozhóó in Whiteriver, AZ. This is his memoir telling the story of how he got to a place in his life where he was able to help found that café after a long, hard battle with addiction. As all memoirs of this sort, the battle is not pretty. What is pretty is the region where Nephi started his life and currently resides (I spent a lot of my formative years camping in that region and those are some of the prettiest, calmest places I can remember being on the planet). I learned a lot about the White Mountain Apaches that I never learned in the 30 years I lived in AZ (big surprise!). It was a delight learning about his efforts in decolonizing foods from that region which we associate with other regions/cultures. I wish the book had some recipes because now I am hungry for some of his meals!
Craig has been through hell and back with addiction but no matter what, as the title implies, his knives saved him. He was an Apache man from two parents who cared deeply for their community but who liked to party. While he had skill in the kitchen, he kept chasing the high of drugs and alcohol that even a family couldn't deter him from. He traveled internationally including Japan when he was plugged in and engaged, featuring the Native cuisines he grew up cooking and tasting, but then he would hit skid row and burn out. He would rally again and raise money to travel and share and learn from South Americans who shared plenty of ancestral knowledge which he wanted to preserve and teach with.
The talent was off again and on again until he figured out how to balance the mental health aspects with the drive to create in the kitchen designing a program to help others and teach others. This combination was the winning ticket for him to give back to the community while staying sober and beginning another family to keep him straight. Staying connected and driven was only a piece. He needed to see how his work could affect and help others.
The raw voice combined with the food stories are my favorite kind of food memoir!
Nephi Craig's memoir is a mixture of Anthony Bourdain, but should not take away from the larger picture of the Indigenous food, his life and culture are rooted in. It should be an honor to read about this person's life and the insight he provides to his internal and external struggles. His journey of wanting to be a chef in a world renowned kitchen, hailed for the culinary arts, paired with his fight for sobriety and making peace with his past, AND incorporating his Indigenous heritage, is a beautiful story. This is one that many should read, and should be more well known.
It is memoirs/books like these that remind me of our gastronomical roots. Everyday foods are eaten and the consumer forgets where they come from and where they are derived from. As someone who speaks about food for a living, I understand the importance of having knowledge of how the food winds up on our plate. This book reminds of how colonialism and imperialism has changed the face of the world and the foods we consume.
Thank you Netgalley and Penguin Press for the opportunity in exchange for an honest review.
Biographies/Memiors are the best of non-fiction works because everyone’s lives are different and interesting! Nephi Craig has definitely lived a couple of lives and you hear it all in this book. I appreciated how raw and transparent he was with his life story, starting with his upbringing on the reservation, how cooking was a huge part of that, his struggles with addiction (no sugarcoating), and about the relationship between food, cooking, and the Indigenous community. Being a chef helped Nephi discover a whole new world outside of the reservation and took him all over the world, as far as Japan. His addictions threatened to derail him each and every time but he somehow never gave up, even at his lowest point. As a person whose first career was food service, I had a better appreciation for Nephi’s kitchen talk because I knew it by memory, smiling to myself as this was so long ago but familiar. I’m glad to see he is helping his community through his knowledge and hope he continues to inspire many!
Our Knives Will Save Us: Dispatches from a White Mountain Apache Chef by Nephi Craig is the storyteller of a chef who once dreamed of being a professional skateboarder. Both professions are far more cool than I could ever be, so I was drawn in immediately. But, later, when he started drawing from his own life, cooking traditional Indigenous foods, he became a chef who loved his trade and who found his own passion.
He shares that culinary school did not teach him anything about Native foods; that it was all about French cuisine and cooking techniques.
His book tells a story about food, but also about heritage, history, family, addiction and reckoning with our past. The author makes it clear that Native cooking has been intentionally erased from history and most Americans have never tasted it. It is a believable and confronting premise, that I hope he helps to change. I live in Colorado, and even here Native foods are not easily accessible.
I hope that his story resonates with other Native chefs and that they too begin to bring their heritage into their restaurants.