Best Of: Broadway legend André De Shields / Apache Chef Nephi Craig

Summary

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Fresh Air "Best Of: Broadway Legend André De Shields / Apache Chef Nephi Craig"

Date: July 25, 2026
Hosts: Terry Gross, with a review by John Powers
Main Guests: André De Shields, Nephi Craig

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Episode Overview

This "Best Of" episode of NPR’s Fresh Air features two deeply inspiring interviews: the first with Broadway legend André De Shields, reflecting on an extraordinary life in theater and survival as an Afro-queer artist and HIV-positive elder; and the second with Apache chef Nephi Craig, whose journey from addiction to cultural culinary leadership illuminates the powerful role of indigenous food traditions in healing and recovery.

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I. Broadway Legend André De Shields

A. Introduction to André De Shields

• [02:03] Terry Gross details De Shields’ groundbreaking career:

  • Tony win for Hadestown and return to the show for a new film version.
  • Current role on Broadway in Cats: The Jellicle Ball, set in 1980s queer ballroom culture.
  • First starred in Broadway’s The Wiz (1975), and nominated for major roles including Ain’t Misbehavin’ and The Full Monty.
  • Now 80, De Shields is a longtime HIV survivor who identifies as Afro-queer and has always gone his own way.

  “I don’t rush anywhere. I walk slowly. My reputation is that Andre de Shields doesn’t walk. He floats.”
  — André De Shields [00:52, repeated at 16:59]

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B. Surviving and Thriving with HIV

• [05:16] Terry Gross: Did he ever believe he’d still be on Broadway at 80, after his HIV diagnosis?

  • De Shields: Yes. He has always believed in his own destiny and draws on the unrealized dreams of his parents—a mother who wanted to be a chorus girl, and a father who wanted to sing.
  • “I believed from my very first conscious thought that my destiny would rise up and meet me.” [05:55]

• [07:08-08:45] Discussion of the AIDS crisis:

  • De Shields recalls being symptomatic for 11 years before diagnosis. At diagnosis, he had only 16 T-cells but knew he would survive.
  • He shares the surreal experience of living through the early, mysterious years of the epidemic: “The mystery was already in the air. How can someone die from a cold?” [07:45]

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C. The Metaphysics of Performance and Death

• [09:45] Gross draws connections between death in Hadestown and his own experiences.

  • De Shields shares the African proverb of the Sankofa bird: “If you do not know where you are coming from, you can’t possibly know where you’re headed.” [10:00]
  • Playing Hermes, the guide of souls, he feels uniquely prepared, drawing on his life’s close calls.

• [11:01] On performing at age 80:

  • De Shields acknowledges arthritis but credits “Dr. Footlights”—the healing power of being on stage and in the spotlight.

  “When I stand on that stage and when those lights come up and when the audience greets me, the pain disappears.” [11:13]

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D. On Queer Culture and the Ballroom Scene

• [13:53] Gross asks about De Shields’ connection to New York’s underground ballroom scene.

  • He wasn’t directly involved, but recalls the Jewel Box Revue, a touring company of men performing as women on the Black vaudeville “chitlin circuit.”
  • Seeing the Revue taught him the value of theatrical fantasy and “the idea that life is never what you think it is. Nothing is what it seems to be.” [14:30-15:39]

• [15:43] He says drag performances inspired his non-conforming dress and persona:

  • “Fantasy had to be in my toolbox… The ancient Greek word for actor means hypocrite. We must tell a lie in order to get through the 24-hour drudgery of each day.” [15:43]

• [16:59] On deliberate self-presentation:

  • “If we want to do something as commonplace as be happy, and if we want to do something as exceptional as being called a legend, then one really must commit to being his best self.” [17:36]

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E. Changes on Broadway and Representation

• [18:01] De Shields discusses opportunities for Black performers:
  • Early Broadway was inhospitable to Black actors and audiences until The Wiz (1975), which “opened the door for the growth of a black audience on Broadway and an invitation to black artists to perform.” [18:26–19:42]

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F. Family, Faith, and Finding the Stage

• [19:42] On his family's relationship to church and his early performances:

  • “The family wasn’t very churchy, but they were pious people… I was the blackest of the black sheep.” [19:52]
  • Accepting Christ at revival meetings was more about pleasing his mother—he wanted to “sing the devil’s music… and have a great time being myself.” [20:56]

• [21:32-23:58] On inheriting and fulfilling his parents’ dreams, and the moment his talent was recognized when cast as Walter Lee Younger in A Raisin in the Sun at age 19.

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G. Embracing Identity and Overcoming Bitterness

• [24:07-25:53] De Shields describes how embodying Walter Lee Younger allowed him to shed his own bitterness about racism and personal obstacles:

  “I’m a black man, and I’m tired of being taken advantage of... That’s the chip. I can get anywhere I want, and it’s my doing.” [25:11]

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II. John Powers Reviews Will Ferrell’s "The Hawk"

• [26:36-32:36] John Powers delivers a lively review of Ferrell’s new series, calling it “goofy good humor” and noting how Ferrell excels at “unabashed silliness.”

  “Never stay up on the barren heights of cleverness… come down into the green valleys of silliness.” [26:36]
  — John Powers, quoting Wittgenstein

  • Powers appreciates Ferrell’s innocence but criticizes the show’s excessive length. Notable comedic set pieces are discussed, and the show is seen as a lighthearted escape.

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III. Apache Chef Nephi Craig

A. Introduction and Sobriety

• [33:52] Terry Gross interviews Nephi Craig, an innovative Native American chef and leader in recovery and indigenous food.
  • After early addiction and nine rehab stints, Craig rebuilt his life through cooking and reconnecting with indigenous foodways. He’s now 15 years sober.
  • He leads a nutritional recovery program and runs Café Gojo on the White Mountain Apache Reservation, providing vocational training and a food-based community space.
  • Author of memoir Our Knives Will Save Us.

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B. Rediscovering Native Foods

• [36:13] On learning tomatoes are indigenous to the Americas:

  • “This tomato is not Italian. It’s native like me. And that was empowering… It was a neat point of validation.” [36:13]

• [37:13] On acorns as a staple:

  • In the Apache tradition, local acorns don’t need leaching. Ground acorns become flour for stews, symbolizing tradition and resilience.

  “It’s real simple, real homey, but really distinct Apache flavors.” [38:17]

• [38:32] “Racket bread”—traditional Apache bread, cooked on hot coals with a wire “racket”:

  • “Apache ladies… stretch out the dough and put it right on the coals, and it puffs up really quick. So it’s really delicious.” [38:32]

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C. Colonial Legacies in Native Food

• [39:11] Fry bread as a symbol of colonialism:
  • “It’s not an indigenous food… Every tribe has fry bread as a result of military food rations. And that grows into these food traditions that… are a part of our reality today.” [39:11]
  • Craig teaches awareness and responsibility, not erasure, around these foods.

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D. Ubiquity of Native Ingredients in American Cuisine

• [40:36] On “hidden” indigenous influences:
  • “All of American cuisine… is built on the ancestral terroir of Native American foods and food traditions… Native foods have been there the whole time.” [41:44]

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E. Cooking as Salvation and Structure

• [41:57] His culinary awakening began after a judge, following his DUI arrest at 18, gave the option of jail or school. He took culinary classes despite not seeing Native representation, and experienced culture shock but found intrigue and purpose.

• [43:16] On the hierarchical “yes chef” culture:

  • Acknowledges its resemblance to his family’s military background and that structure helped him: “I knew that I needed structure. I wanted something tough.” [43:46]
  • Grandfather was a Navajo code talker; father a Marine. Military values run deep.

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F. Adversity and Renewal in Jail Kitchens

• [45:33] On cooking in jail after a DUI accident:
  • Feeding 7,800 inmates daily from miscellaneous, often expired food (“the food factory”).
  • Camaraderie among Native inmates, and insistence: “No matter what, we bless our food as natives… we pray and offer gratitude.” [45:33-46:36]
  • Humility of creating “green slop” from overcooked asparagus vs. a surprisingly good squash soup. [47:46-48:44]

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G. Knife Work and Personal Loss

• [49:20] On selling his prized Japanese knives during a period of deep addiction and loss:
  • The knives, obtained after cooking Apache cuisine in Osaka, were a last cherished link to his skills and pride.
  • “Addiction strips away everything. The last things I held onto were always my chef knives… things that you find very valuable you were willing to sell off just to get high again.” [49:52]

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H. Recovery and Community

• [51:16] Craig’s story concludes with gratitude for his recovery and ongoing journey.
  • Café Gojo and his continued work with native youth and recovery programs serve as living testaments to the power of food, tradition, and self-worth.

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Notable Quotes

• "I don’t rush anywhere. I walk slowly. My reputation is that Andre de Shields doesn’t walk. He floats."
  — André De Shields [00:52; 16:59]
• "If we want to do something as exceptional as being called a legend, then one really must commit to being his best self."
  — André De Shields [17:36]
• "All of American cuisine… is built on the landscapes or the ancestral terroir of Native American foods and food traditions… Native foods have been there the whole time."
  — Nephi Craig [41:44]
• "Addiction strips away everything slowly… The last things I held onto were always my chef knives, because I knew if I had my chef knives, I could find a job anywhere in the world."
  — Nephi Craig [49:52]

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Timestamps for Major Segments

• [02:03] Terry Gross introduces De Shields and resumes his career highlights
• [05:16–11:49] HIV survival, Hadestown myths, performance at 80
• [13:53–18:26] Ballroom culture, Broadway opportunities, drag inspiration
• [19:42–25:53] Family, faith, and coming-of-age as a performer
• [26:36–32:36] John Powers reviews Will Ferrell’s "The Hawk"
• [33:52–41:44] Nephi Craig’s culinary roots, indigenous foods and colonialism
• [43:16–51:16] Culinary education, jail kitchen, addiction, knife lore, recovery

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Episode Tone

Both interviews are marked by warmth, candor, and reflection, with host Terry Gross’s gentle, searching questions eliciting powerful personal stories. De Shields’ language is poetic and grand, full of metaphors and pride, while Nephi Craig’s demeanor is matter-of-fact, humble, and resourceful—each voice illustrating the endurance, artistry, and reinvention of individuals shaped by both adversity and cultural legacy.

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Transcript

[Podcast Announcer]

This message comes from National Geographic's Pompeii out of Time with Tom Hiddleston, a new series from the executive producers of Loki. Pompeii out of Time with Tom Hiddleston is now streaming on Disney and Hulu.

[Terry Gross]

From why in Philadelphia, I'm Terry Gross with FRESH AIR Weekend Today, Andre de Shields. At the age of 80, he's back on Broadway and cat's the Jellicle Ball you He won a Tony for his performance in Hadestown and co stars in the new film of the revival. He made his Broadway debut in the title role of the 1975 original Broadway production of the Wiz. De Shields describes himself as Afro queer, a longtime HIV survivor and unreformed hippie. He's always gone his own way in how he thinks, speaks, dresses and moves.

[Andre de Shields]

I don't rush anywhere. I walk slowly. My reputation is that Andre de Shields doesn't walk. He floats.

[Terry Gross]

Later, Apache chef Nephi Craig explains how cooking and teaching about indigenous foods saved his life. And John Powers reviews Will Ferrell's new series, the Hawk. That's coming up on FRESH AIR Weekend.

[Andre de Shields]

Just over a year ago, Congress eliminated more than a billion dollars in funding for public media, yet we have not backed down. When you donate to independent nonprofits that make up the NPR network, we hold the to account together.

[Nephi Craig]

It's the kind of journalism democracy requires

[Terry Gross]

that we, the public, need to protect.

[Andre de Shields]

Don't wait. Join the community of people who power this work before the month is out. Head to donate.NPR.org you know this feeling.

[Podcast Announcer]

You see a news story during a busy workday and think, I'll catch up later. Make consider this from NPR, part of your daily news diet. This week we break down the new Pentagon request for war funding, the US Nuclear deal with Saudi Arabia and the case against the Tate brothers. Short episodes clear takeaways every afternoon. Consider this Listen on the NPR app or wherever you get your podcasts.

[Terry Gross]

This is FRESH AIR weekend. I'm Terry Gross. When Andre de Shields name is mentioned, it's often preceded by the words Broadway legend or the great. He won a Tony for his performance in the musical Hadestown in 2019, and the show won seven other Tonys, including best musical. Stars of the original Broadway cast reunited for a revival of the show last year in London. The that production was filmed and is now showing in select theaters. Right now, de Shields is one of the stars of Cats, the Jellicle Ball, which won three Tonys last month. It uses the same songs as Cats but with different beats and is set in the queer underground ballroom culture of the 80s. That show is closing August 8th. De Shields is especially remarkable considering he's 80 and has been HIV positive and since 1991. He grew up in Baltimore in what he describes as the innermost part of Baltimore's inner city, and figured getting an education would be key to getting out. He earned his BA In English literature at the University of Wisconsin in Madison and an MA In African American Studies from nyu. He started his career in experimental theater in Chicago. When his theater group performed in New York, he decided to stay. He soon got cast as the wizard in the 1975 original Broadway cast of the Wiz, which was produced a few years before the movie. He was nominated for a Tony for his performance in the show Ain't Misbehavin', which was built around music associated with Fats Waller, and he won an Emmy when it was produced for a 1982 NBC broadcast. He was nominated for another Tony for his performance in the Full Monty. He's performed in a wide range of dramas, including King Lear, Waiting for Godot and Death of a Salesman. Let's start with Andre de Shields singing the opening number of Hadestown, in which he sets up the story and introduces the characters. The show tells a version of the Greek myths about Hades, Hermes, Orpheus and Eurydice. De Shields plays Hermes, the God who escorts the souls of the dead to the underworld, which is ruled by Hades. Here's the Shields from the original Broadway cast recording.

[Andre de Shields]

Once upon a time there was a rare Don't I Swear, brother, Don't I swear. It was the road to hell. It was hard times. It was a world of God

[Nephi Craig]

and man.

[Andre de Shields]

It's an old sound.

[Nephi Craig]

It's an old sound.

[Andre de Shields]

It's an old tale from way back when. It's an old sound.

[Nephi Craig]

It's an old sound.

[Andre de Shields]

And we're gonna sing it again.

[Terry Gross]

Andre de Shields, welcome to FRESH air. Congratulations on all the things that you're doing now. I just think it's great. Did you ever believe that despite having been diagnosed with HIV in 1991 and believing that you had it considerably before that, but you just didn't have the diagnosis that you'd not only live to see age 80, but that you'd be in a new film version of a musical you'd won a Tony for and at the same time you'd be on Broadway as one of the stars of Kat's the Jellicle Ball?

[Andre de Shields]

The answer to that question is yes,

[Terry Gross]

and my answer to that is no.

[Andre de Shields]

I believed from my very first conscious thought that My destiny would rise up and meet me. So when my mother shared with me that her lifelong dream had been to be a chorus girl, and that was the term she used, she didn't say dancer, she said chorus girl. And my father shared with me that he had always wanted to be a singer. He had a beautiful tenor voice, but the closest he got to that dream coming true was to sing in the church choir. Those two bits of knowledge only reaffirmed what I had been dreaming about since the day I was born. I wanted to sing. I wanted to dance.

[Terry Gross]

HIV, when you had it in 91, it was a death sentence. You had two partners who died of AIDS and friends as well, cast members who you work with. So you really thought you were going to be on Broadway at the age of 80?

[Andre de Shields]

I didn't think I was going to be on Broadway at the age of 80, but I did know that I would be alive, and I did know that I would continue on my path. And I had already, in 1980, before there was an acronym HIV, that I had had an infection of my lymph nodes. And not any one of three doctors on two continents could answer the question, what is this? Now, in 1979, when I had gone to London for the first time to perform in Ain't Misbehavin', there was already a friend of mine who caught a cold, and three days later he was dead. So the mystery was already in the air. How can someone die from a cold? There's something going on that nobody understands. So when my lymph nodes blew up in 1980 in Los Angeles on the tour of Ain't Misbehavin, I clocked it immediately. Whatever that mystery is, I'm beginning to decode it. I'm beginning to understand it.

[Terry Gross]

Wait, so you were symptomatic for 11 years before you were diagnosed?

[Andre de Shields]

Yes.

[Terry Gross]

That's a long time.

[Andre de Shields]

And when I finally got the clinical diagnosis, I had 16 T cells. So I was near death, but I knew I wasn't going to die.

[Terry Gross]

Wow. You know, Hadestown is about the souls of the dead. So seeing Hadestown made me think about the stories that human beings have told themselves over the centuries about why we are living and why we die. And the Greek myths are early examples of that. When you did Hadestown, when you were performing in it, and when you went back, which I imagine you did, to read the myths that Hadestown draws on, didn't it make you think about that? That the stories we've told ourselves about what happens after we die, how they've changed over time.

[Andre de Shields]

I did exactly that. And I also there's an African proverb which is based on a bird, and the bird is called a sankofa. It's a flightless bird, and it is known to walk deliberately forward, but every once in a while it looks over its shoulder. The lesson there is if you do not know where you are coming from, where you've been, you can't possibly know where you're headed, where you're going. And when I was asked to embody the role of Hermes, not only did that proverb come to mind, but all of the close calls that I had experienced in my life came to mind, and I felt prepared to take on this role. Hermes is the creature that accompanies humans when they have to cross the River Styx to visit in Hades. You can't get there if Hermes does not accompany you.

[Terry Gross]

How have you changed how you can perform on stage at the age of 80? No one is as limber, but you still move with such grace.

[Andre de Shields]

Yes, Mr. Arthur has visited me. I've got arthritis. My knees are compromised, my joints ache. But I've got a doctor. His name is Dr. Footlights. Her name. Her name is Dr. Footlights. And when I stand on that stage and when those lights come up and when the audience greets me, the pain disappears.

[Terry Gross]

My guest is Andre de Shields. He's currently on Broadway in Cats, the Jellicle Ball. He won a 2019 Tony for his performance in the musical Hadestown as Hermes. He's in the new film of last year's London revival of Hadestown that reunited stars of the original Broadway show. We'll hear more of our conversation after a break. This is FRESH AIR weekend.

[Podcast Announcer]

This message comes from Snap Judgment. Each episode is a movie of the mind, storytelling with a beat, raw, intimate, real. Strap in. Subscribe to Snap Judgment Wherever you get your podcasts.

[Nephi Craig]

The midterms are coming, and if you think the news cycle feels intense now, just wait until the fall. That's why summer is a perfect time to make sure your news diet is calibrated. I'm Ian Martinez on Up first, we unpack the three biggest stories every morning so you can stay informed and get on with your day in fewer than 15 minutes. Follow or subscribe. Up first today, wherever you get podcasts,

[Podcast Announcer]

every episode of it's been a minute. NPR's what's Happening in Culture podcast starts by asking three questions. Who?

[Andre de Shields]

How?

[Podcast Announcer]

Why now? If the culture's asking it, we're talking about it at npr. We stand for your right to be curious and indulge your cultural curiosity. Follow it's been a minute. Wherever you get your podcasts and we'll break down the zeitgeist y topics that are filling your feed.

[Terry Gross]

This is FRESH AIR weekend. I'm Terry Gross. The let's get back to my interview with Andre de Shields. He won a Tony for his performance as Hermes in the musical Hadestown. He plays the role again in a new movie of the show, which is now playing in theaters. He's currently on Broadway in Cat's the Jellicle Ball. So I want to ask you about Cats, the Jellicle Ball. It's set in the queer ballroom culture where there are drag competitions in different categories relating to like, singing, dance, costumes. Were you a part of that at all, either as a participant or an observer?

[Andre de Shields]

I was not a part of the ball culture as we know it here in New York and we give it a birth decade of the 80s. But I did know a phenomenon called the Jewel Box Review and it toured the chitlin circuit. I'm talking about the middle to late 50s in the last century.

[Terry Gross]

And the chitlin Circuit was like a circuit of like black theaters. Started like in the vaudeville era, I think.

[Andre de Shields]

Exactly. And in Baltimore the theater was called the Royal. And of course in the 60s, urban renewal raised it and the cultural spine of the city died. However, I was able to see entertainment like my first Motown Revue at the Royal. I was able to see Moms Mabley at the Royal. I was able to see Flip Wilson at the Royal. I was also able to see the Jewel Box Revue, which was a company of men who dressed as women. And they were gorgeous. At that time they were called transvestites, which comes from, I think, the French word le travastie. But it's all about the idea that life is never what you think it is. Nothing is what it seems to be. And seeing the Jewel Box Review was part of my education as an entertainer.

[Terry Gross]

What did it mean to you seeing people who were drag performers?

[Andre de Shields]

It meant that fantasy had to be in my toolbox. It meant that what we do in our actual lives is what I as a performer must do on the stage. I must fool people. I must pretend. The ancient Greek word for actor means hypocrite. We must tell a lie in order to get through the 24 hour drudgery of each day.

[Terry Gross]

Did seeing drag performers add to your desire and ability to dress in very like, non conforming ways with like bright colors and like short shorts walking the streets of Manhattan? You talked about how people would like Kind of like walk in the opposite, direct. Because you were so outstanding looking that it was kind of almost scary to some people.

[Andre de Shields]

Yes, yes.

[Terry Gross]

Like so eccentric looking. Did that contribute to you feeling that you wanted to and were able to wear whatever you wanted to and call attention to yourself in a very colorful and fashionable way? Original way.

[Andre de Shields]

Exactly. But not. Terry, you and I have only spoken for a few minutes and we don't really know one another. But I'll bet you already know that I like to wax poetic and wearing bright colors and saying, pay attention to me, even to the point of deliberately slowing my gait. I don't rush anywhere. I walk slowly. My reputation is that Andre de Shields doesn't walk, he floats. But this is because each of us, if we want to do something as commonplace as be happy, and if we want to do something as exceptional as being called a legend, then one really must commit to being his best self.

[Terry Gross]

What are some of the things you've seen change on Broadway over the years? Cause you started on Broadway in the 70s and also as a black actor. There aren't necessarily a whole lot of opportunities now either for black actors, but there's more than there were. Yet you managed to be in two of the shows with black cast, Ain't Misbehavin and the Wiz.

[Andre de Shields]

Well, you've explained it in a nutshell. In the early 70s, Broadway was an inhospitable terrain for black actors and black audiences. And with the advent of the Wiz, that all changed. Part of the change had to do with the decision by the producer, Ken Harper, to take some of the money and invest it in live action TV commercials so that we could lean into the living room and speak to our brethren who are sitting on the couch and say to them, don't. Don't sit there and become a couch potato. There's something that represents you playing on Broadway. You no longer have any reason to avoid it. You have a reason to come and become part of it. So the Wiz opened that door for the growth of a black audience on Broadway and an invitation to black artists to perform on Broadway.

[Terry Gross]

Your father, who wanted to be a singer, sang in church. How churchy was your family? And was that your first stage?

[Andre de Shields]

The family wasn't very churchy, but they were pious people. They read their Bibles on a daily basis, and everyone prayed for me. And I didn't have to wonder why. I knew that I was the blackest of the black sheep in the family, and my mother particularly would take me to revival meetings. And when the preacher Would ask for people to come down to the makeshift pulpit, People who wanted to know Jesus. My mother would always look at me, and that was encouragement enough. And I would go down and I would get on my knees and I would, in quotes, accept Christ as my savior. Not only did it please the preacher, but it pleased my mother.

[Terry Gross]

But it wasn't real.

[Andre de Shields]

Oh, of course not. And I'm not making fun of it. I'm just saying I was being a good child. I was pleasing my mother. But I knew I wanted to sing the devil's music. I wanted to go rip roaring through life, not cast caution to the wind, but have a great time being myself.

[Terry Gross]

Your parents both wanted to be in show business. Your mother a chorus girl, your father a singer. And you felt that you kind of inherited their dreams that they couldn't fulfill, and you fulfilled them. But what was their reaction when they learned that you were really serious about being a performer? Did they encourage you?

[Andre de Shields]

Ultimately, I was encouraged in the beginning when people would ask me, andre, what do you want to? What are you going to do when you grow up? And my response was, I'm going to be a star. And they looked at me as if I had two heads. And then I managed to leave the neighborhood and be the first of that community to attend college. And they started to believe that I was a miracle maker. And while I was a junior in college, the head of the drama department came to me and said, are you in the drama department? I said, no, I'm studying English. Why do you want to know? He said, well, I think this campus would benefit from a production of Lorraine Hansberry's Raisin in the Sun. But there aren't enough black students, let alone in the drama department, for me to do this. But I can do it by inviting people from the town to join us. I just can't find the boy to play Walter Lee Younger. And I would like you to do that now. All my young life, I kept close to my vest that I wanted to be an actor. And here was the blessing being offered to me. So members of my family took the bus all the way out to Wilmington, Ohio. Not the entire family, but enough of the family to see me at the age of 19, perform as Walter Lee Younger in A Raisin in the Sun. And that's when it happened. Wow, Andre, you really have talent. And then the support began to grow.

[Terry Gross]

What do you think the drama teacher saw in you that made him or her realized that you belonged on stage?

[Andre de Shields]

First of all, he saw a black male student. Second of all, he saw a young man who carried himself as if he were a king, which I still do. My mission, my journey, is to discover the throne to which I know I am heir. So that's what I carry in my mind, in my heart, and in my viscera as I walked on the quad when I was 19 years old at Wilmington College in Ohio. And that drama teacher, he witnessed the drama and he knew this young man has it in him to play Walter Lee Younger, who had the hugest chip on his shoulder. Walter Lee Younger as the character in Brazen in the sun. And at 19, by playing that character, I was able to dissolve the chip that was on my shoulder.

[Terry Gross]

What was the chip that was on your shoulder?

[Andre de Shields]

I'm a black man, and I'm tired of being taken advantage of. You did this to me. I can't get anywhere, and it's your fault. That's the chip I can get anywhere I want, and it's my doing.

[Terry Gross]

And what dissolved that trip was embodying a character who couldn't get rid of.

[Andre de Shields]

Exactly.

[Terry Gross]

Couldn't get rid of.

[Andre de Shields]

Yes.

[Terry Gross]

And seeing how that hurt him.

[Andre de Shields]

Exactly. That's essential to Raisin. And the son, Walter Lee Younger, who's supposed to be the man of the family, blames everything on Mr. Whitey. And the mother says to him, oh, stop.

[Terry Gross]

Andre de Shields, it's been wonderful talking with you. Thank you so much.

[Andre de Shields]

It was my pleasure. Thank you.

[Terry Gross]

Andre de Shields is currently on Broadway in Cat's the Jellicoe Ball, and he plays Hermes in the new film of the musical Hadestown. It's now in select theaters for a limited run. In the new TV series the Hawk, Will Ferrell stars as a zany former golf star who's trying to regain his mojo and become a champion again. Our critic at large, John Power, says that the show has its flaws but delivers exactly what you would expect from Ferrell. Goofy good humor that's too wild even to be a parody of the traditional comeback story.

[John Powers]

The philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein was one of the daunting intellects of the 20th century, but when it came to entertainment, he. He liked dumb comedies. Never stay up on the barren heights of cleverness, he wrote, but come down into the green valleys of silliness. Few stars have spent more time roaming these valleys than Will Ferrell. Ever since becoming beloved on Saturday Night Live, he specialized in a brand of surreal, lighthearted goofiness striking for its lack of meanness. His trademark role is that of the blusterous man child or overgrown boy in Hollywood hits like Elf Anchorman and Talladega Nights. He used that Persona to create carnival esque movies. They blend genre parodies, musical numbers, physical shtick, mockery of male bravado and moments of bottom bearing slapstick. Far bolder than you find in his more guarded peers like Adam Sandler and Ben Stiller. But movie comedy has fallen on hard times and like many others, he's turned to Netflix for a new series, the Hawk. Working a similar turf, if not style, to Sandler's Happy Gilmore, it's an amiably shambly golfing comedy that finds him doing all the familiar Will Ferrell things. Although he's an acquired taste. I've never fully acquired, I found myself laughing enough to watch all ten half hour episodes. He plays Lonnie Hawkins, AKA the Hawk, a self absorbed pro golfer who was number one in the world in 2004. Then he choked on his final putt of the US Open and went into a tailspin that's kept him off the PGA Tour for years. Still hoping to get back to the top, he plays small tournaments along with his new caddy Sam. That's Fortune Feimster, a freewheeling lesbian he stumbles across in a Walmart parking lot. With her help, Hawke goes on a hot streak and gets back on the tour, much to the delight of his adoring fans who always loved the braggadocio and crowd pleasing antics that enraged the stuffed shirts of the golf establishment. Not everyone is delighted by his return. His mere presence annoys his foul tongued ex wife Stacy. That's Molly Shannon. And unleashes an oedipal meltdown on his son Lance. That's Jimmy Tatro, also a professional golfer. A muscled up ball of tension engaged to a wellness influencer who, in a witty twist, is the one character who isn't bonkers. Lonnie and Lance head toward the inevitable golfing showdown alongside their smug nemesis, played by Luke Wilson. The question becomes how can Lonnie win the Open and reconcile with his son? Naturally, Lonnie's golfing methods are certifiably inane. Here at the tee, he has an imaginary conversation with his golf ball before unleashing a mighty drive.

[Terry Gross]

What do we got here, little callaway one? Wanna go for a little ride?

[Podcast Announcer]

Huh?

[Andre de Shields]

What's that?

[Terry Gross]

You have to speak up louder than

[Andre de Shields]

oh, you want to go far? You want to go into outer space? You go flying through that air, screaming your head off with pure ecstasy as

[John Powers]

you explode into the cosmos.

[Andre de Shields]

Okay, let's do it.

[Nephi Craig]

Let's go for a ride.

[John Powers]

That's how it does now. Silly comedies need to be short. The Hawk clocks in at nearly five hours, more than three hours longer than any of Ferrell's hits. The story's too thin to support such length, even when buttressed by amusing shenanigans, of which there are plenty. There are songs and fantasy sequences, surprise cameos and insults whizzing around like gunfire. There's a ludicrous scene at a urinal, a hilariously deployed pickle jar, a nifty gag about a tower made of donuts, even a throwaway joke about E.M. forster's novel Morris, a reminder that dumb comedies are made by smart people. And of course, there's Ferrell, a famously nice guy whose annoying comic style is as polarizing as he himself is not. Lonnie is a good role for him, in part because he's a devoted golfer who often turns up at celebrity pro ams and partly because he may identify a bit with the Hawk. Although his fans still love him, his biggest movies were back in the aughts. With his large frame and suburban dad's bland face, just perfect for portraying self delighted narcissism. Ferrell gives Lonnie his all, whether flying into a panicked frenzy when he's trapped inside a car for 10 seconds singing the baby back ribs jingle, or looking stunned when people say he's heartless for doing something heartless where there's usually something nasty lurking within comics who play overgrown boys, Sandler excels at dark, dramatic roles. Ferrell always exudes innocence. Even though Lonnie lets everyone down who loves him, he never really feels like a bad guy. As the Hawk sloped toward its sneaky, quasi sentimental ending, I found myself respecting Ferrell's love of and commitment to unabashed silliness. Although, like Lonnie Hawkins, he's a bit too old for the young man's game he's playing, he still pulls off some unreal shots.

[Terry Gross]

John Powers reviewed the Hawk, Will Ferrell's new Netflix series coming up, a leader in the movement of Native American cuisine talks about how indigenous food saved his life. This is FRESH AIR Weekend.

[Podcast Announcer]

This message comes from Snap Judgment. Each episode is a movie of the mind, storytelling with a beat. Raw, intimate, real. Strap in. Subscribe to Snap Judgment wherever you get your podcasts.

[Nephi Craig]

Waylon it seems like everything is being called a recession indicator these days.

[Podcast Announcer]

Yeah, like the box of Hamburger Helper

[Nephi Craig]

in my pantry or the new Apple

[Podcast Announcer]

Neo book, or the resurgence of press on nails or lipstick or no lipstick. I've lost track.

[Nephi Craig]

There is only one way to know

[John Powers]

if These are actual economic warning signs, though.

[Nephi Craig]

Listen to the indicator from Planet Money

[Terry Gross]

on the NPR app or wherever you get your podcasts.

[Podcast Announcer]

Oh, hey there. I'm Brittany Luce, and I don't know, maybe this is a little out of pocket to say, but I think you should listen to my podcast. It's called It's Been a Minute, and I love it. And I think you will, too. Over the past couple months, over 100,000 new listeners started tuning in. Find out why. Listen to the It's Been a Minute podcast from NPR today.

[Terry Gross]

This is FRESH AIR weekend. I'm Terry Gross. My next guest is a leader in the movement of Native American cuisine, and eating cooking and teaching about that food saved his life. He became addicted to alcohol and drugs at an early age. After his first dui, the judge gave him the option of three months probation if he agreed to get and keep a job or go to college. He opted for attending Scottsdale Community College, where he took cooking classes. He eventually got a job, learned about restaurant kitchens and and became a chef at the finest fine dining restaurant in Phoenix. But he also kept getting fired from jobs for being drunk, hungover, not showing up or being in jail. During time in jail, he was lucky to get work in the kitchen, where he learned how to design meals with whatever food they were given. When he got out, he kept relapsing. He completed nine rehabs and ran away from five others. Now he's drawing on the more hellish parts of his life as well as his expertise to be the nutritional recovery program coordinator at the tribe owned Rainbow Treatment center, working with people recovering from substance abuse. As a behavioral health technician, he collaborates on treatment plans for the Center's clients. In 2021, he opened Cafe Gojo, a restaurant on the reservation that's a place for the community to eat and talk. For members of the staff, it functions as a vocational training program for the treatment center. He also founded the Native American culinary Association naca. And now he's written a memoir called Our Knives Will Save Dispatches from a White Mountain Apache chef. His mother is White Mountain Apache. His father is Dinna Navajo. Nephi grew up on both reservations. Nephi Craig, welcome to FRESH AIR. And congratulations on your 15 years of sobriety. That is really great. So before we get into your personal story, which is pretty interesting, let's talk a little bit about food, the foods that are indigenous to native people and to the Americas. Let's start with tomato, because I know learning that tomato was an indigenous food really meant a lot to you.

[Nephi Craig]

Yeah, it did. I had no idea that the tomato was an indigenous cultivar growing up. I think it's pretty common for a lot of people to feel that way. And for me, as a young kid, I was studying in culinary school, and I came across this info that it was native to the Americas, and it just brought this really big smile to my face. I was like, wow, this tomato is not Italian. It's native like me. And that was empowering because as you're in cooking school, you're being taught all of these other world cuisines, and as a Native American in Arizona, you don't really see yourself represented in really anything, let alone cookbooks and culinary school curriculum. So that was a neat point of validation for me that grew into many other interests.

[Terry Gross]

I want to hear about acorns, because that's a real staple, and I don't think about acorns and eating them. I see squirrels eating them all the time.

[Nephi Craig]

And Apaches.

[Terry Gross]

And Apaches.

[Nephi Craig]

Well, acorns are very special because they can be eaten all over North America, on the west coast and on the east coast, and across the United States. They have to be leached, of course, which is a process to pull out the real tannic bitterness from the acorns. What makes our acorns special is that they don't necessarily have to be leached. They suppose they could be, but they've always been harvested by our people along the Mogollon Rim in Arizona for thousands of years. And they can be eaten right out of the shell. They're ground up into powders into, like, a yellow acorn flower. And it's added to a lot of different things from, like, sprinkled on roasted meats or especially cooked in stews. It's really, really good like that.

[Terry Gross]

What about acorn soup?

[Nephi Craig]

We refer to as acorn stew. So it's usually a lot of bones, whether it's beef or elk or deer chunks of meat. And it's simmered for a long time till it's really soft, and then the acorn flour is sprinkled in towards the end, and sometimes squash is added. And a lot of times there'll be, like, flour dumplings or corn dumplings added in. It's real. Real simple, real homey, but really distinct Apache flavors.

[Terry Gross]

You often make that with racket bread. What is that?

[Nephi Craig]

It's a traditional Apache bread. It's called racket bread because it's cooked on a tool that looks like a tennis racket. So it has this, like, long metal handle, and there's this wire circle at the End of it. And there's like, steel grates or wire strands woven to make it look like a long tennis racket. And that is placed directly on top of hot coals. And Apache ladies usually just stretch out the dough and put it right on the coals, and it puffs up really quick. So it's really delicious.

[Terry Gross]

A lot of people associate fry bread with indigenous culture, and you associate fry bread with colonialism. Can you explain?

[Nephi Craig]

Well, it's not an indigenous food. It has this lasting legacy with us. And foods that were distributed required a ration card. And you might get flour, some beef, some dried beef, maybe some rice and potatoes, maybe some coffee and sugar. Ration lists varied from place to place, but they were pretty much always going to contain flour and lard. And so fry bread emerges, some say, in the Southwest, and there's big debates about where and who did it first. But if you look across all of Native America, from Florida to New York to the Great Plains to the Midwest to the Pacific Northwest and the American Southwest, every tribe has fry bread as a result of military food rations. And that grows into these food traditions that, you know, are a part of our reality today. So as I teach it, I teach it in a way that hopefully can promote responsibility in food choices. Not to take it away, but to be aware.

[Terry Gross]

I think most people who aren't native in America associate indigenous food with Thanksgiving, which means turkey and pumpkin and corn. Squash, I know is really important to indigenous cuisine. Are there ways that you use it that other American cultures don't?

[Nephi Craig]

Well, I'll put it this way. For major American holidays like Thanksgiving, everyday staples like turkey, corn and squash, and cranberries, those are all important indigenous foods. And when people ask me, what recipes or what ways do we prepare native foods differently? Or the question comes up, how come I haven't heard of a Native American restaurant? Or why are there no Native American cookbooks? I usually will say, well, you've been eating Native American foods and cuisine since as long as you can remember. It's just that the stories are not told. All of American cuisine, every region in the United States, is built on the landscapes or the ancestral terroir of Native American foods and food traditions. So you can say Boston baked beans, barbecue. In the American Southwest, there's companion planting and dry farming, the hunting and fishing and agricultural bounty of the Northwest. All of these landscapes inform our diets as everyday Americans. So when we think about how we prepare different ingredients, I think it's pretty straightforward and simple. We like to roast them, simmer them, turn them into pies just like everyone else sometimes. But native foods have been there the whole time.

[Terry Gross]

So you became fascinated with cooking because your mother was a good cook and a great baker. But you first studied cooking after your first DUI arrest when you were age 18, and the judge gave you the option of three years probation if you got a job or went to school. So you went to Scottsdale Community College and studied cooking there. And even though I think the school was located on reservation land. Do I have that right?

[Nephi Craig]

Yeah, the Salt River Indian Reservation.

[Terry Gross]

But none of the students that you encountered were native.

[Nephi Craig]

There were a lot of natives on campus, just none in the culinary program.

[Terry Gross]

Oh, okay. And you'd never heard of most of the dishes. What were some of the dishes that you'd never heard of? You had no idea what they were?

[Nephi Craig]

Things like risotto. The weirdest one was vichyssoise. Hearing all the terms like mirepoix, hearing like, I didn't know what a bistro meant. And when I would ask these questions, like, what does that mean? It was like everyday language to the other students. And it was just kind of. I felt like an oddball, you know what I mean? So it was definitely a form of a culture shock. But it was intriguing for me, and I liked it. I didn't let it shut me down too much, But I was definitely aware that I was different culturally from a food standpoint.

[Terry Gross]

So you write that in school because your teacher was a chef, that you were taught that your reply should be, yes, Chef or no, chef. Were you uncomfortable with that kind of hierarchical structure in kitchens or in school where it was like, yes, chef, no, chef. You write it reminded you of an abusive sergeant in the movie Full Metal Jacket. What reminded you of that?

[Nephi Craig]

No, it didn't really throw me off. I actually liked it because it reminded me of one of our favorite movies. And I think he says, like, the only thing out of your filthy sewers is, sir, yes, sir, and everyone laughs when we watch it at home, so. And I knew that I needed structure. I wanted something tough. And when I got into cooking, it turned out that it could be very tough. It wasn't always very tough, but depending on what kitchen you got into, it could be like that.

[Terry Gross]

And your father was in the military, right?

[Nephi Craig]

Yeah, my father was a United States Marine. He was a sergeant and a sharpshooter.

[Terry Gross]

And your grandfather was a code talker. This was a group of Native Americans who used Native American languages and codes to share things that the military and intelligence needed to keep secret.

[Nephi Craig]

Yeah. So I Come from a family of United States marines. My dad's dad, Bob at city Craig, was a Navajo code talker. He served on Guam, Guadalcanal, and was wounded on Iwo Jima. The Navajo code talkers created a code to send transmissions that helped to win the war. And so I grew up in that tradition, and all the great men in my life were that. And so I kind of looked up to the discipline and the rigor of that lifestyle.

[Terry Gross]

After your, I don't know, second or third dui. Well, during that dui, someone was seriously injured. The passenger of the car that you crashed into was seriously injured. So you did time for that. You spent a few months in jail, and you got to work in the kitchen. So I'm really interested in hearing about cooking in prison. What exactly was your position?

[Nephi Craig]

Well, I was just one of the cooks. It was in county jail, and it was nothing glamorous, but it was industrial style cooking. What made it stand out is that I was bunched in with the other native Americans. And in jail, we call ourselves chiefs, or somehow we didn't get that name. But the group of chiefs and getting to meet some of the people that were cooking there, all of their different varied stories and the things that they were in for, but also banding together to feed, I think it was like 7,800 inmates a day was really eye opening. It showed me that I was not above or below any style of cooking. And it was a cultural moment where I was reminded that no matter what, we bless our food as natives. That no matter what, we pray and offer gratitude as natives. Coming from. From a time and a place that didn't seem like that would be where it came from, I guess. You know what I mean?

[Terry Gross]

You cook for 7,800 people a day because the facility you were in, I think supplied the food for all the other jails in the county. Am I right?

[Nephi Craig]

Yeah, it was. I think they called it, they nicknamed it the food factory. There was literally probably about 200 inmates on a chain gang walking to work every day to do that.

[Terry Gross]

So you had to make do with whatever you were given. And sometimes it was like expired food probably.

[Nephi Craig]

Oh, yeah, man, it was crazy because, you know, at that level, food's coming in from food banks and donation centers and whatnot. And we would pull out pallets and pallets of frozen ingredients, which they were frozen, but it was still like 1 year, 6 months, 3 months expired. So temperature control was really a big thing. So it had to get above certain temperatures for x amount of time. But again, it's jail. So like, you know, I don't think the staff really cared too much. It was just to feed the masses.

[Terry Gross]

Give me an example of what you thought was a good dish and what you thought was like, I'm really sorry, I have to give this to people to eat.

[Nephi Craig]

Oh man. Well, we made this really big batch of squash soup, just pallets and pallets of frozen butternut squash. But we did have big, like 10 pound, 20 pound bags of pre cut onions. So we're able to give it some depth. And there was some like corn syrup laying around. So we made it kind of a sweet like almost like a butternut squash bisque, I guess you could say. And it turned out nice. Then another time. One thing that I didn't regret giving to the, to the inmates, but it was we had this two huge pallets of like this really fresh, amazing asparagus that as a chef and a cook you really like and appreciate. We had to just boil that to death. It just turned camouflage green and it was just plopped into trays. It was so bad. It was so sad to see all that hard work from the farms being just, you know, killed and mashed and put into green slop.

[Terry Gross]

So what did you learn from having to make do with a kind of miscellany of expired food?

[Nephi Craig]

Oh, I think my journey to becoming a chef and the way that I've learned, it's really anchored in a lot of moments that were, that could be humiliating for others. And it was that for me, certainly. But it also taught me a sense of humility and that cooking is very human. And no matter what's happening in the kitchens, at the end of the day, we're feeding people to keep them alive. So it was really humanizing.

[Terry Gross]

Your specialty in the kitchen is knife work. Your memoir opens with you selling your knives. These were knives that you got while you were cooking in Japan and you were selling them because you were broke. You were living in your mother's home. Your father had died soon before of a rare stomach cancer, so you needed money for alcohol. And all you can think of doing because you didn't have a job at this point, all you could think of doing was selling these really special knives that you'd gotten in Japan. Like, what made them so special?

[Nephi Craig]

Well, addiction strips away everything slowly. It's this terrible, terrible affliction that just causes you to devalue yourself and all of your belongings. And as my life stripped away of people, places and things like places to live, finances, resources, the last things that I held onto were always my chef knives. Because I knew if I had my chef knives I could find a job anywhere in the world, literally. Because by that time I had already traveled around the world. And so I held on to those to the very, very, very end. And around 2011, those were some of the last things I was willing to pawn off or sell on the street. These knives were special because I had got them on a trip to Japan in 2007 where I prepared a seven course tasting menu of Western Apache cooking and cuisine at the Imperial Hotel of Osaka. So I had I cherished these knives because they were like samurai swords. They were made by a knife maker whose ancestors made samurai swords and were samurai. And I brought them back to the States with me and I still have one of them with me. But I sold those other ones and it was terrible. Cause it's just the name of the game. Things that you find very valuable you were willing to sell off just to get high again. And that's the way that was for me.

[Terry Gross]

Well, congratulations on all the work you've been doing. Congratulations on your sobriety and thank you so much for joining us on the show today. I really appreciate it.

[Nephi Craig]

Thank you for having me.

[Terry Gross]

Nephi Craig's new memoir is called Our Knives Will Save Us Dispatches from a White Mountain Apache Chef. Fresh air weekend is produced by teresa madden. Fresh air's executive producer is sam brugger. Our technical director and engineer is audrey bentham. Our engineer today is adam stanischewski. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by phyllis myers, anne marie boldonado, lauren krenzel, monique nazareth, thea chalamer, susan yakundi, anna bauman and nico gonzalez whistler. Our digital media producer is molly sivinesper. Our co host is tanya moseley. I'm terry gross.

[Podcast Announcer]

This message comes from Midi health co founders Dr. Kathleen Jordan and CEO Joanna Strober. Discuss why they started a virtual care platform for women in perimenopause and menopause.

[Terry Gross]

The symptoms and experiences that women have in midlife, I think were underappreciated or possibly even trivialized.

[Nephi Craig]

The changes of perimenopause and menopause create a broad spectrum of symptoms and can actually lead to long term health issues.

[Terry Gross]

But too few clinicians are trained in it.

[Podcast Announcer]

I also want to add often the type of care that women are needing is very iterative. It requires trying different medications, learning about their body and learning how to take care of themselves. And so what we've tried to do at Midi Health is create a new type of care system that is responsive to women's needs and helps them take care of themselves and stay healthy instead of just treating disease. MIDI Health Committed to helping women in midlife with perimenopause and menopause care. Accessible via telehealth [e-mail].