Multiculturalism: From Detroit to New York
Chef of Lithuanian origin Michael Laiskonis from New York shares his thoughts about living and working together with people of different cultures. Michael has visited “Ethnic Kitchen” on February 19, 2014.
I have lived in New York City – arguably one of the most culturally diverse cities in the world – for ten years. I moved here from Detroit, which has for decades been one of the most racially divided cities in the United States (both geographically and psychologically). At about age 18, I moved from the predominantly white middle class suburbs that ring Detroit, and moved to the inner city; my conscious motivation at the time certainly had something to do with attaining some degree of cultural credibility and rebelliousness. Looking back, however, I think about the possible subconscious desire to challenge my assumptions and prejudices. I still find it difficult to assess certain feelings I may have had at the time: a sense of ‘discomfort’ I forced myself to confront, yes, but also an underlying guilt – that because it was my choice to live there, I would have an easier time leaving than those stuck there with far fewer options. I did witness many dangerous situations, and while it’s tempting to wear that as some sort of a badge of experience, better to ponder how those experiences allowed me to think about the context of those situations in an attempt to better understand the social mechanisms that result in acts of intolerance, hatred, and violence.
Though I’m sure my beliefs and values continue to evolve, this period of my life twenty years ago set in a place a philosophy that the ‘personal’ is the ‘political’. In other words, I think the larger complex societal issues we face are really reflected in our personal encounters and relationships with others. I’d like to think that I approach difficult situations not with an immediate rush to judgment, but with an empathetic attempt to first understand the situation from a different perspective. But of course, understanding and acceptance is a continual process. Questioning and confronting prejudice in ourselves in one thing, yet another is confronting the intolerance of others.
So I find myself living in New York City, seeking and embracing its diversity. I like the fact that I can overhear several different languages spoken in the space of as many city blocks of city sidewalk. I like that it’s a society that actively takes place ‘on the street’ and I appreciate the fact that because so many of us are crammed in such a small space, there is special kind of ‘shared experience’ that doesn’t exist in places where people are isolated and separated by space. Though New York has a reputation for being ‘tough’, there exists a strong sense of community and mutual aid in spite of (or perhaps because of) the high energy and fast pace the city represents. The sensory overload can however desensitize us to intolerance, inequality, and conflict – the more we see the more we are able to ignore it.
Social Integration through Food and Travel
When I began cooking professionally twenty years ago, I didn’t foresee how food would become a means for me to travel the world, explore new cultures, and work alongside other cooks form diverse backgrounds. It’s impossible to fully understand a culture and its cuisine in a short timeframe, but one does learn a lot about a people by what they eat. Contemporary chefs are constantly seeking inspiration, and immersing oneself in another country’s products and traditions from a chef’s perspective is a humbling learning experience, the sights, sounds and smells are small seeds that slowly germinate over time capable of influence a chef’s cooking in subtle ways. Food is also, of course, a way to easily connect with others – we all eat, indeed. I’ve had countless meals with people I didn’t know, in places I’ve never been before; even with language barriers and fleeting time, those meals provided an intimacy and an entry into a culture that I would have likely not experienced otherwise. I’ve been privileged enough to cook in Asia, South America, Europe, and all over North America – I also hope those experiences have allowed me to also give something back of my own perspective to those I cooked with and for.
At the pinnacle of professional cooking – within the ‘haute cuisine’ kitchens of the world – one finds a diverse cast of characters – a virtual ‘united nations’ of cooks. I’ve worked along alongside cooks from all corners of the globe. Over time I’ve learned bits and phrases of several languages in these kitchens, yet cooks speak an unspoken language through the gestures and glances – the ‘dance’ of the kitchen. I treasure these experiences because they offer near infinite opportunities to learn.
Lithuanian Origins
My great-grandfather Joseph Laiskonis, was born about 1882, probably from the general area between Siauliai and Panevėžys (possibly Radviliškis) and it is believed that he traveled to America twice, in 1900 and 1902 – the story goes that because his first trip was to avoid conscription into the czar’s army, the family that remained behind took the heat; he returned soon after, apparently bribed a doctor to declare him unfit for service, and then returned to the US and initially settled on the south side of Chicago (W. 22nsd St./Cermak, near Halsted as far as I can determine). He married in 1908 to Anna Vespolis (there are about a half dozen spellings for her name, but that is the most prominent in documents). By about 1910 he had moved to Cicero (1520 S. 50th) and worked as a steam fitter at McCormick/International Harvester. I don’t know where my grandfather’s oldest brother (born 1909) was baptized, but according to church books I’ve managed to find, the remaining children were all baptized at St. Anthonys – I always assumed that Joseph was among the founding members of the church.
In 1920 my great-grandfather purchased farm land in northern Michigan, as did many other city-dwelling Lithuanians – Mason and Lake counties would eventually come to be known as ‘Naujoli Lietuva’. Just before the move, my grandfather Stanley was born. Joseph would continue to run the farm until the mid-40s, when he handed it over to my grandfather and his older brother. My great-grandmother Anna died in 1927; Joseph remarried to Julia Povilitis two years later. Joseph died in 1947, and Julia died in 1956 after moving to be near her sister in Arizona.
My grandfather Stanley eventually took full ownership of the farm by time my own father, Laurence, was born in 1949. I always imagined that although Joseph remained in a tight circle of Lithuanian immigrants both in Chicago and in Michigan, there was probably a great incentive to assimilate – from what I’ve read, that seems to have been a common attitude among the ‘first wave’ of immigrants. As my grandfather continued to farm, he would make the rounds among the remaining Lithuanian farmers in the area, but as they began to pass away, my grandfather said he spoke less and less Lithuanian, and eventually forgot what little he spoke. By time my father was a boy, there was very little in the sense of Lithuanian tradition left (nor much Polish for that matter, my grandmother’s heritage). Thus, I certainly did not grow up with much of an awareness of the culture apart from the last name.
Thanks to the Internet, we discovered Alvydas Laiskonis in Lithuania (a well-regarded doctor living in Kaunas) and began a sporadic correspondence – we believe that his father was my great-grandfather’s youngest brother. Alvydas and my grandfather carried on a brief correspondence until my grandfather’s death in 2010, and then I took over and intensified the dialog. In the years since, I’ve not only dug into the genealogy, but I’ve also visited Lithuania twice. Last year I began to work with various diplomatic offices (the Lithuanian Embassy, General Consul, and Mission to the UN here in the US) and now I am returning to both Latvia and Lithuania at the invitation of the US Embassies in Riga and Vilnius for an intensive cooking tour and cultural exchange.