How My Grandmother’s Notes Taught Me to Cook With Juniper Ash

When I found my grandmother’s old research notes on syilx culinary traditions, tucked between the pages of her huge research binder of notes, one practice stood out, the use of juniper ash in cooking. Her careful observations and interviews with Elders described how syilx cooks would burn specific woods to create mineral-rich ashes, using them to balance flavours, tenderize meats, and even preserve foods. These notes quickly became my instructions. And so, I decided to bring this knowledge back into my kitchen.

Learning From the Past

Her papers mentioned that not all ashes were equal; juniper, sagebrush, and certain hardwoods each had distinct uses. Juniper ash, in particular, was prized for its mild alkalinity and subtle resinous flavour. She had recorded which branches to gather (young, dry growth, never stripping a single plant entirely), how to burn them cleanly, and even which foods paired best with the finished ash.

This Indigenous culinary alchemy is combined with practical chemistry. Indigenous Peoples have long understood what Western food science now confirms, that alkaline substances like wood ash can transform texture and flavour. My grandmother’s notes didn’t use terms like “pH balance” or “nixtamalization,” but her descriptions matched the principles perfectly.

A Living Experiment

Following her guidance, I went to taheatkun Mountain to gather juniper, leaving an offering and acknowledgement of my plant relation. Back home, I adapted her traditional method to the days safety needs; the windy day required precautions. Using my BBQ as a contained burn area, I arranged the branches on the grill with an aluminum pan beneath to catch the precious ash. With the lid ready to control any flare-ups (a necessary measure given my tendency for dramatic cooking experiments), I burned the juniper completely until only embers remained. After cooling, I carried the ashes inside and patiently sifted them through fine mesh, repeating the process until achieving the perfect consistency, that silvery-gray powder. Stored in an airtight jar, this culinary ash keeps indefinitely, a tangible connection to generations of syilx cooks who mastered this alchemy before me.

When preparing smoked chilli for a catering event, I wanted to balance the tomatoes' acidity without using sugar. This was the perfect opportunity to apply our culinary practice of using juniper ash. As a natural alkaline agent, the ash offered a solution rooted in sqilx'w (Indigenous) food science rather than your basic colonial shortcuts.

The transformation in the chilli was remarkable. The tomatoes lost their harsh acidic edge as the ash neutralized their pH naturally. At the same time, the ground deer, which is often tough due to its high protein content, became noticeably more tender as the alkaline ash helped break down muscle fibers. Even the beans benefited, achieving that perfect texture where they're fully cooked but still hold their shape, without any chalkiness or toughness.

Trading Trail Smoked Chilli This bowl carries no frontier myths; I purposely made it so it honours our living connections as Indigenous Peoples from all over these lands. Belizean cacao traded fairly through @UncommonCacao, chillies cultivated by our Southern Kin, and deer that walked this land first. It's a story of our Indigenous presence, before and beyond borders.

Beyond just technical improvements, the ash brought a subtle but beautiful depth of flavour. The chilli developed richer, earthier notes that complemented the smokiness beautifully. What impressed me most was how this single processed plant relation (ingredient) addressed multiple contemporary cooking challenges simultaneously, acidity, texture, and flavour development, through pure food chemistry.

That catering job demonstrated how sqilx'w culinary knowledge remains vitally relevant in our kitchens today. While the guests simply enjoyed an exceptionally balanced chilli, they were unknowingly experiencing the continued effectiveness of syilx food science. The ash worked quietly but powerfully, proving that some of the best culinary solutions aren't new innovations, but rediscovered notes of love found buried in old books.

This experience changed how I approach professional cooking. Now I more frequently look to my homeland techniques when facing kitchen challenges, finding they often offer elegant, natural solutions that commercial products can't match.

What Began As An Experiment Became A Revelation

Rediscovering this practice helped me to connect to a way of cooking that sees food and people both as a part of a reciprocal ecosystem. My grandmother’s notes explained how to make juniper ash, but they also explained why it mattered. In a world of processed additives, here was a natural, sustainable way to enhance food, rooted in reciprocity with the land.

Now, when I use juniper ash, it’s become a conversation that expands across generations.

Because Indigenous culinary practices aren’t relics to be preserved, but living technologies to be utilized, each recipe an open-sourced codex written in ash and bone and memory.