Food for Thought: Careful Foraging

by Miche Genest

Dandelion greens harvest
As the swans return and the Yukon River breaks up, the longed-for foraging season inches ever closer. This waiting-for-spring seems endless now, but we know from experience that once the new plants start to appear it’s all going to happen really fast.

First the dandelions and the spruce tips will appear, then the wild roses and the plantain and lamb’s quarters, then the Labrador tea and then the berries, the rapid succession of beautiful berries.

Now, as we lounge in spring’s waiting room, it’s a good time to reflect and prepare for the foraging season ahead. As our love of wild foods grows, there are more and more of us out there, and it becomes crucial to practice ethical harvesting, doing our part to protect and conserve, so we, the animals and the birds can continue to enjoy the wild harvest for generations.

The north is a big place, and sparsely populated, but even so the forager’s effect on the environment, especially sensitive environments, can be devastating. One Dawson resident said recently, “Indiscriminate harvesting concerns me as our population grows and more people are interested in the wild things.” When we’re out in number, our cumulative effect is far greater than we might think.

Wild blueberries, in bloom.
Stories from the forests of Quebec provide a cautionary tale. The wild leek (Allium tricoccum, also known as ramps, wild onion or wild garlic), once abundant in the wild, was so over-harvested for commercial and personal use that it became endangered. Urban sprawl and habitat destruction also played a part. Since 1995, by Quebec law, the only wild leek harvest permitted is 50 bulbs or plants for personal use.

Today, though commercial harvesting and sales of wild leeks have been banned, the species is still listed as endangered. Chef Nancy Hinton and her partner, the legendary Quebec forager Francois Brouillard, own Les Jardins Sauvages, a restaurant and small wild-food condiment business in Saint-Roch de l’Achigan just outside Montreal. Brouillard grew up spending summers in the woods near his grandmother’s cottage, now the restaurant, and was foraging for wild foods long before they became de rigueur on restaurant menus and at farmer’s market stalls.

Now, says Hinton, though she and Brouillard are very happy people have learned about wild foods, the downside is the woods are becoming overcrowded and habitat is threatened. “There’s a lot of people going out, and they’re going too fast, they don’t have the knowledge and the patience or the experience necessary, even if they care about sustainability.”

Worse, continues Hinton, the demand for wild food is so great it has spawned a flourishing black market. “There’s tons of people, and they sell to chefs, or to other people that sell.”

This causes a number of concerns. “First, there’s no traceability, so if there’s a problem you don’t know where it came from or how it was picked. Second, these people are not people who are so concerned about sustainability.” Hinton and Brouillard now sit on a committee that’s trying to develop guidelines for this burgeoning industry, but it’s complicated. How do you monitor compliance? How do you monitor the woods?

In the case of wild ginseng, an endangered species in Ontario that brings high prices on the black market, Environment Canada is using video surveillance cameras on known patches. In the meantime, wild ginger and crinkle root, plants that Brouillard has been gathering for years, and which still thrive on his family’s property because of careful harvesting, are listed as “at risk” in Quebec and their harvest subject to regulation.

Hinton says that while she doesn’t want to dampen enthusiasm for beginners interested in wild harvesting, and understands that mistakes are made innocently, it’s frustrating to be denied access to much-loved plants because of others’ ignorance or willful negligence.

We might think it can’t happen in the Yukon. But in Whitehorse low bush cranberry pickers have already noticed that they have to go farther and farther afield to find berries, even in a good berry year. There are simply more of us out there.

The way foraging works, one friend brings another, who then goes back to the same place with a new friend, who then returns with one of her friends, and so on, until the small patch of wild berries that might once have supported one person’s family with a few cups of berries for the winter is now under an enormous amount of pressure.

Last year at an area in BC famous for its wild watercress and its beautiful, extremely sensitive Karst landscape, my husband and I came across a Whitehorse family in the midst of harvesting wild watercress. They already had three large garbage bags full, and they were filling a fourth. “We do it for all of our family,” they said. Well, okay. But surely we have to think beyond our own families. What if we all filled several large garbage bags every spring?

Amber Westfall, herbalist and wild food educator from the Ottawa area, has compiled a short list of helpful reminders on how to forage with care. It’s not a bad idea to review her guidelines while the season is not yet upon us.

Squirrel harvest, early fall.

Guidelines for Ethical Foraging

Composed by Amber Westfall, herbalist and proprietor of The Wild Garden, in Ottawa, Ontario. Amber says, “Please practice good stewardship and take care of the plants that take care of us!”
  1. Make sure you have a one hundred percent positive ID. Ideally, reference more than one field guide, or go out with an experienced forager or wildcrafter.
  2. Do not over-harvest. Be mindful of how many remaining plants are needed to ensure the stand will continue to flourish and thrive. Learn about how the plant reproduces. By seed? Rhizomes? Slow growing bulbs? Think about what other animals, insects and people might be using those plants.
  3. Know the poisonous plants in your area and what to avoid.
  4. Be aware that anyone can have an allergic reaction to any plant. Eat a small amount and wait 24 hour to see if you have a reaction.
  5. Harvest away from busy roads and rail lines. Avoid contaminated areas and areas that have been sprayed with chemical fertilizers or pesticides. The edges of farm fields, unless organic, are not appropriate for harvesting for this reason.
  6. Know the history of the area you are harvesting from. Be wary of empty lots and avoid ‘brownfield’ land.
  7. Do not harvest on private property without permission.
  8. Do not harvest on protected land, fragile or at-risk environments or in provincial or national parks.
  9. Learn which plants are threatened or at-risk and do not harvest them.
  10. Learn which plants are prolific and which plants are invasive. These are ideal for harvesting.
  11. Whenever possible, replant root crowns, rhizomes, and spread seeds (except invasives).
  12. Only harvest the appropriate part of the plant at the proper time of day and/or in the proper season.
  13. Use clean, appropriate tools to reduce the spread of disease. Make neat, clean cuts at growing nodes to allow the plant to heal well and continue growing.
  14. Leave some of the best specimens to go to seed and reproduce. If we take all the best plants and leave behind weak or diseased specimens, we are selecting for future plants that will be weak and subject to disease.
  15. Have as little impact on the surrounding area as possible. Fill in any holes, re-cover bare dirt with leaf litter and try to leave the area better than you found it.
  16. Don’t waste the plants that you harvest. Use and process them promptly while still fresh and compost any parts that are not used.
   

All the Time in the World Screening at Hot Docs 2018

If you are in the Toronto area or have friends or family in Toronto, Suzanne’s award winning documentary film All The Time In The World is returning to the Hot Docs Film Festival  tomorrow, Saturday 28 April at 12:30 pm as part of Hot Docs 25th Anniversary Redux Programme celebrating great Canadian films. 

Suzanne will be answering questions via Skype after the film. Advance tickets have been sold out for weeks, but rush seating is still available.

All The Time In the World is a family-friendly documentary that has screened in 25 countries around the world winning 22 awards, including 9 Audience Choice Awards, 4 Best Picture Awards, and 6 Youth Jury Awards. It has been translated into 12 languages. David Suzuki described it as: “A magnificent film.  It is an amazing idea, a remarkable family and a film with a powerful message to those of us who live busy urban lives. 

Anyone watching this will have to ask, what is life all about, why am I in such a hurry, what is it that gives us true happiness.  Thank you for making a film that demands that we answer those questions.”

All The Time In The World features Suzanne and her family as they took their 3 kids (then aged 10,8 and 4) into the Yukon wilderness to live for one year with no electricity, no digital technology, and not a single clock or watch.

If you are not going to be in Toronto on April 28th, you can still watch All The Time In The World

Combining the Tastes of Spring and Fall

An amazing Spring refresher is a tall glass of ice cold Cranberry Slushie. This beverage combines the tastes of Spring: Spring snow crystals found by digging under the hard top crust of spring snow plus a shot of birch syrup… With the taste of Fall: High bush cranberry juice that has been canned or frozen to keep through the winter. Delicious and refreshing!

> Click to view the Cranberry Slushie recipe

Tess enjoys a Cranberry Slushie. Photo by Suzanne Crocker.

Gerard’s Blog: Fishing for Complements



What are the chances that the burbot are concerned for my welfare? They’ve been offering themselves up with some regularity over the past month or two.

Graeme Gibson, in his book, The Bedside Book of Beasts, refers to the fact that amongst many species, one individual will sometimes offer itself for the slaughter when there is an obvious threat to the group. And all of us who have hunted can recall at least one incident when something other than our hunting prowess accounted for our success. Luck? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it was that particular animal’s chosen destiny.

So, do you think the word is out amongst the burbot and they are worried about our extinction, a painful and slow starvation on this local diet? Is that why they have been generous with their personal sacrifices? Or perhaps they’ve gotten wind of the fact that they contain more mercury than most fish and are compensating for their shortfall by way of this generosity.

After all, it wouldn’t demand much research on their part to learn that humans are not in the least deterred from eating foods which contain a multitude of toxins! So what’s a little mercury? Or, possibly the mercury has gotten to them, affecting their higher cognitive functions, and they know not what they do, for they are all buzzing about, literally as mad as a burbot!

The burbot meat, by the way, is delicious. It is white, flaky and light, with minimal smell. It’s great when fried or added to stews or soups. The fried liver is reminiscent of a lightly cooked scallop. It is a very easy fish to eat, preferable to most other fish. It is unfortunate that the mercury intake recommendations suggest eating no more than one serving per week.

Success at the fishing holes has recently fallen off. Is it the fact that there is competing food available for them? (Still, their stomachs are usually empty, despite the fact that the water is now teeming with larvae). Or could the new water turbidity be affecting their desire to take the lure? Or the change of light? Temperature? Increasing current? Just plain tired of the same kind of bait, day after day, with no change in the menu? Or, could it be that they are avoiding my hooks because they know that break-up looms and they feel it is high time to get off the ice?

You see, my hunch was right, they are concerned for my welfare after all…

Gerard’s Blog: Watching Winter Wane



Yesterday, it felt like being at the fishing holes was the best possible place on earth.  The sun burned on the skin.  There was a free display of ice in all its forms, something unappreciable in low light and deep cold.  Crystal ice, as clear and transparent as glass, jumped out for recognition.  There was ice impregnated with sticks and debris, bringing new appreciation to its depth and genesis.  And the recent  surface water was freshly frozen, splintering like broken glass in all directions as I walked;  a cosmetic distraction from the treacherousness of spring travel.  There was no wind and all was quiet except for the gentle swishing from yet another burbot on my line.

By my definition, we are now in the third and final stage of winter.  This is the time when I do not want winter to end.  We still have enough snow and ice to allow efficient travel.  We have intensity of light paired with ever lengthening days.  It is cold enough to keep the bugs at bay.  It is warm enough to encourage outside work but not so warm as to make it insufferable.  And all is clean, the inevitable mud still biding its time.

I consider the fall months to be our introduction to winter.  It is the time when the bulk of snow accumulates and our bodies adapt to the increasing cold.  It is a time when the concept of winter is still novel and we preoccupy ourselves with new recreational opportunities.  And we are distracted from the progressive darkness by the imminence of Christmas.

The second phase of winter is heralded by the dark, cold months.  The euphoria of the Holiday Season has ended, and we gauge the progression of our lives by how long we have endured the most recent cold snap.  We worry about how much wood our stoves are gobbling up, doing the mental math of consumption rate versus supply every time we fill the wheelbarrow at the woodshed.  We wander through our houses, taking note of the drafty spots, making the familiar false promises to ourselves that, come this summer, we will most definitely rectify the situation.  We forget to shave and cut our hair.  We confuse night with day.  Those that can, are off to exotic lands….unless they particularly enjoy despondency and morbid introspection.

But then, our “spring winter” is suddenly upon us and the melancholia melts away.  We forget about the empty woodshed and mounting fuel bills.  We toss the parka and walk with a spring.  We speak in full sentences again.  We plan for summer.  When asked by the returning folks how our winter was, we minimalistically respond, “great, just great!” And off we go to soak up the beauty at the burbot holes …

The New Lambs of Spring

Video by Peter Dunbar Welcome, nine new lambs to Peter Dunbar’s sheep herd, on the banks of the Yukon River, about 5 kilometers downstream from Dawson City. There were two sets of triplets, one set of twins and one singleton. It is still cold in the Yukon so the newborns get sweaters to help keep them warm for their first few days of life.

New lambs for Peter Dunbar’s sheep herd, on the banks of the Yukon River, about 5 kilometers downstream from Dawson City. Photo by Peter Dunbar. From FirstWeEat.ca, the Food Security North of 60 website supporting First We Eat, a documentary by Yukon filmmaker Suzanne Crocker about eating only locally-grown foods in in Dawson City, Yukon, in Canada's North, for one year.
New lambs for Peter Dunbar’s sheep herd, on the banks of the Yukon River, about 5 kilometers downstream from Dawson City. Photo by Peter Dunbar. From FirstWeEat.ca, the Food Security North of 60 website supporting First We Eat, a documentary by Yukon filmmaker Suzanne Crocker about eating only locally-grown foods in in Dawson City, Yukon, in Canada's North, for one year.
New lambs for Peter Dunbar’s sheep herd, on the banks of the Yukon River, about 5 kilometers downstream from Dawson City. Photo by Peter Dunbar. From FirstWeEat.ca, the Food Security North of 60 website supporting First We Eat, a documentary by Yukon filmmaker Suzanne Crocker about eating only locally-grown foods in in Dawson City, Yukon, in Canada's North, for one year.
Photos by Peter Dunbar

Suzanne’s Blog: Mercury Levels in Yukon Fish – Do I Need to Worry?

A burbot liver is 6 times the size of other fish, and provides all the Vitamin D Suzanne and family need. Photo by Suzanne Crocker.
Burbot liver has been providing me with Vitamin D during the long Yukon winter. I know that fish tend to accumulate toxins from our water systems, especially predatory fish.  So I wondered, since I am consuming a fair amount of burbot liver this winter, do I need to worry about mercury levels and other contaminants such as PCB’s and DDT?

To my surprise I learned that, in fish, mercury accumulates in the muscle in levels much higher than in the liver.  This is the exact opposite of terrestrial animals such as caribou where mercury levels are higher in the liver compared to the meat.

Mercury levels in fish vary depending on the location but, in general, predatory fish (lake trout, burbot) have higher levels of contaminants than non-predatory fish (whitefish, grayling, salmon) and larger (older) fish have lower levels of contaminants than smaller (younger) fish.

According the limited burbot data we have available in the Yukon, the mercury levels in burbot muscle are five times higher than in the burbot liver.  However burbot muscle has the highest mercury levels of all the freshwater fish we catch in these parts. Chum salmon has the lowest mercury levels (less than a tenth that of burbot).

Based on Health Canada’s tolerable daily mercury limit is 0.47 ug/kg/day (for adult men and adult women who are not of child bearing age), my daily limit of burbot would be maxed out at 45 grams (1.5 oz) per day!  And my daily limit of burbot liver would be a whopping 225 grams (8 oz) per day. So my Vitamin D needs of 10 grams of burbot liver per day are no big deal.

But a daily limit of 45 grams of burbot muscle is a really small portion!  Of course, I am not eating burbot every day, so it still averages out ok – but it was a good reminder to limit my consumption of burbot.

So my take home message:  Burbot liver is a great source of local Vitamin D.  By consuming sautéed burbot liver one can get enough Vitamin D without too much mercury.   Burbot flesh should be considered a winter treat and if one is going to eat a lot of local fish, grayling and salmon would be better choices.

Want the stats? Here are the statistics from fish in Old Crow from a study by Yukon Research Scientist, Mary Gamberg Mercury per gram of fresh fish:
  • Burbot : 0.62 ug/g
  • Pike: 0.17 ug/g
  • Burbot liver:  0.124 ug/g
  • Grayling: 0.06 ug/g
  • Chum Salmon: 0.04 ug/g
(Based on a sample size of 14 burbot, 11 pike and 12 chum salmon from Old Crow and grayling from other Yukon locations.) For adults, the tolerable daily mercury limit is  0.47 ug/kg/day (Health Canada)  (less for women of child bearing age) This translates to a tolerable daily limit in grams of fish for an adult woman of my size:
  • Burbot : 45 g  (1.5 oz)
  • Pike: 164 g
  • Burbot liver: 225 g
  • Grayling: 466 g
  • Chum Salmon: 700 g
As mercury levels differ from one water system to another, I was curious as to what the levels would be in the burbot living in the Yukon River at Dawson City.  I sent in one 4 pound, 11 year old burbot for testing and levels came back as 0.23 ug/g mercury in the muscle and 0.04 ug/g in the liver.

The mercury levels from the Old Crow burbot are 2.5 times higher than the levels in the one fish tested from the Yukon River.  One sample only, but it suggests that the mercury levels in the Yukon River near Dawson are less than the levels around Old Crow. For PCB’s and DDT, the amount found in 10 grams of burbot liver from the Old Crow study was quite low, one tenth of the tolerable daily intake for PCB’s and one twentieth for DDT.      

There’s a Lot of Eggs in that Basket!

By Miche Genest

Mandalay Farm chickens.
Alan and Cathy Stannard of Mandalay Farm have been raising free-range chickens for the last nine years on their acreage off the Burma Road near Whitehorse. For eight of those years theirs was a small, family-run business with a flock of about 100 birds. They sold the eggs through neighbourhood buying groups, who knew the Stannards well enough that they invited them to community brunches.

Today, the egg business is still family-run but you wouldn’t call it small. Under the brand name Little Red Hen Eggs, the Stannard’s brown free-range eggs are sold in four supermarkets and one variety store in Whitehorse, plus a grocery store in Haines Junction. Their other commercial customers include Air North, two local coffee shops and two large downtown hotels.

In 2017 the Stannards upped their egg ante considerably — they built a large barn, brought in 2,000 chicks and invested in a commercial grader that can grade 7,000 eggs in an hour. In the spring of 2017 Al Stannard told the Yukon News, “Our goal is to provide a brown, free-range egg for the Yukon.”

There’s no shortage of eggs in the Yukon — consumers across the territory have some access to eggs sold over the farm gate to buying clubs or through private arrangements. And local, graded eggs are available for sale at Farmer Roberts grocery store in Whitehorse. But the difference here is one of scale. Since the Partridge Creek Farm stopped egg production in the mid-2000s there has not been a large-scale egg producer in the Yukon; there’s never been a large-scale free-range brown egg producer.

Little Brown Hen eggs, graded and ready to be packaged.
There is a market, or several. Jonah Tredger, executive chef at the Westmark Whitehorse, has been a customer since late January. He currently buys 8 to 10 cases of 15 dozen eggs a week, and that’s in the slow season. Wykes Independent Grocer purchases 500 dozen a week; the owner reports they’re the best-selling brown egg in the store. Consumers want to buy local free-range eggs, and they’re willing to pay extra for them.

That the birds are free-range is key to the Stannard’s success, and to their own job satisfaction. “We love those birds,” says Al Stannard. “We want [them] to have a good life.” It’s hard to imagine 2,000 birds being able to range freely. But the Stannards make it work. Inside the barn, “the girls” have a 10 by 90-foot patch of gravel, six inches deep, for scratching and digging, two essential chicken needs. “They like to dig foxholes, and lie in there and dust themselves,” says Stannard. “It’s like walking through a field full of gopher holes.”

In winter temperatures up to -10C the girls get out into the sun.
In winter, as long is the temperature is -10C or above, the birds go outside into a fenced-in enclosure to catch some rays. They’re given feed that has not been genetically modified. “We do our utmost at all times to make sure our feed is GMO-free,” says Stannard. This is for customer satisfaction as much as bird health. By all accounts, customers are satisfied. They send thank you cards to the Stannards. One long-time Whitehorse resident wrote, “I’ve been waiting for 60 years for something like this to come along.”

Chef Tredger of the Westmark is satisfied too. His goal had always been to serve local food at the hotel, and a recent change in hotel ownership made that possible. So he went out in search of consistent sources of local product. He met the Stannards at Meet Your Maker, an event connecting farmers and buyers co-hosted by TIA Yukon and the Yukon Agricultural Association in Whitehorse last January.

“My biggest concern was trying to keep up volume,” he says. “It’s really reassuring to know, and exciting to know, that they can.” “What I really like about being able to use [Little Red Hen Eggs] is there’s a high demand.” Any egg on the breakfast menu is a Little Red Hen Egg, and that has been good for business. “Every time we tell a customer [the eggs are local] they get pretty excited, and they tell their friends, and we see a lot of repeat business that way.”

“One of the best things is the money stays in the community. We’re supporting a local business and in turn they support us.” The Stannards plan to build a second barn in 2018 and purchase another 1000 birds. “That way, we will not have a lack of eggs when the birds change out.” He’s referring to when the first set of birds wind down, or become “spent”, as they do after 18 months to two years of laying.

The calcium in the egg shells comes from the chicken’s bodies, and their bones eventually become brittle and vulnerable to injury. At that stage, Stannard says, “we put them down quickly and quietly.” Stannard shares this aspect of egg production frankly, saying, “It’s part of the process, and it’s important that people know.”

He would like to see the spent birds be consumed as food, and has recently spoken with a local chef and café owner about giving cooking lessons on how to make soup and cook chicken feet, a classic dim sum item that’s now gaining traction in mainstream cuisine as chefs and consumers become more sensitive to eating the whole bird or animal. In the meantime there are the eggs: free range, brown, and commercially available in Yukon markets and restaurants. If all goes as planned, Little Red Hen Eggs will soon be in a store near you.

From peewee to extra large eggs–the girls produce all sizes, though the goal is always the commercially popular, large size.

Gerard’s Blog: Hare Today, Gone Tomorrow



Setting rabbit snares was a common adolescent pursuit when I grew up in rural Newfoundland.  We often set our “slips” as a side interest when fishing for trout.  It was the era of self-created recreation. And my mother was totally supportive.  She would regularly buy rabbits from whomever came to the door with them for sale.  “Two dollars a brace.” 

I still have memories from my pre-school years, holding rabbits up by their hind legs while mom skinned and gutted them.  It was an intimate time, each of us tugging against the other, laughing at the foulness of the smell.  And at supper time, mom would relish in the repulsion of others as she picked at the cooked heads on her plate of stew.

I thought it would be an easy and natural transition to set snares here in the Yukon during this winter of eating local.  It was, after all, a skill I had not totally let lapse.  When I worked in Northern Saskatchewan as a young doctor I often set slips.  I would check them before work in the early mornings with a flashlight, as headlamps were yet to become the normal northern winter adornment that they have now become. 

It was an opportunity to endear myself with the older generation who were familiar with subsistence eating.  It gave us common ground, an opportunity to lighten the conversation before launching into the drama of their personal illnesses.

Back then, as if living in a remote northern community wasn’t rustic enough, I liked to “get away from it all” by going on short bush stints.  I developed a proficiency in building quincys and “bow-whiffets.”  I would go with whomever I could convince, on a weekend excursion of cold, physical exhaustion, disrupted sleep, meager food intake and uncertainty. 

Of course, success with the rabbit snares was part of the calibrated need.  My buddy Bob, some thirty years later, still laments the time that we were on one such trip.  It was -43 and we were hungry and cold, sleeping in a tiny quincy that was too shallow to even allow us to turn on our sides.  Checkers, the dog that was with us, later succumbed to pneumonia.  We set a number of snares and had only one rabbit. 

As we hungrily approached the last snare, we realized that there was a living rabbit, loosely caught.  In my effort to dispatch the critter, I accidently cut the wire, giving us the dubious satisfaction of watching the happy rabbit lope away.  So impacted by the event, Bob reminds me of these details on each of our reunions.

So, I had full expectations of providing the family with wild rabbit this winter.  But all I have to show for my efforts is the loss of my good ox-head axe.  Not a single rabbit.  Not even a slip that was brushed aside.  Seems that these rabbits were not interested in using runs predictably; they kept slipping the slips.  It became laborious and tedious to do the daily checks without reward, so I accepted defeat, haunted by the scorn of my friend, Bob.

But, “what goes around, comes around.”  We were rewarded for catching no rabbits.  After expecting nothing from the Easter Bunny during this year of sugar deprivation, I was pleasantly surprised to see that he made an exceptional effort for our household.  I was awaken on Easter Day by the sounds of glee from my youngest.  There were hidden treats throughout the house:  birch syrup toffee, dehydrated berry packages, and carrots galore! 

And, I appreciate the carrots the most, since I know that they represent the greatest personal sacrifice from the perspective of The Bunny.  All things happen for a reason…

Suzanne’s Blog: Burbot in Exchange for Sunshine

Burbot is a remarkable fish well-suited to the Northern climate. Photo by Suzanne Crocker.
Living in the far North, I usually take Vitamin D, the sunshine vitamin, during the winter months (1000 IU/day).  This year I wanted to see if a local diet alone would keep my Vitamin D levels stable.  Not unexpectedly, my levels dropped below normal as the days became shorter. But, thanks to local Dawsonite and ice fisher, Jim Leary, I was introduced to burbot and it saved the day!

Jim Leary ice fishing for burbot on the Yukon River. Photo by Suzanne Crocker.
Burbot is an amazing fish.  It is a freshwater, carnivorous, bottom feeder that thrives at the coldest times of the year under the ice of the Yukon River.  In fact, it has chosen January as its favourite spawning month.  Burbot live to be decades old.  They have no scales and some folks find them a bit ugly and eel like.  I think they have beautiful eyes.  A survivor if ever I saw one.  Which leaves me with some ambiguity about catching them.  But their flesh is a thick and delicious white fish and their livers are especially nutritious.

A burbot liver is six times the size of most other fish, and provides the Vitamin D that Suzanne and family need. Photo by Suzanne Crocker.
Burbot liver is huge – six times larger than the livers of other freshwater fish of the same size, and comprising about 10% of their body weight!  And their liver is packed with Vitamin D and Vitamin A, in fact 4 times the potency of the Vitamin D and A found in cod liver. Turns out that a mere 10 grams of burbot liver per day would supply me with the equivalent of 1000 IU of Vitamin D.  Chopped into chunks and sautéed in butter, burbot liver tastes similar to scallops.  So consuming 150 grams of burbot liver every couple of weeks was no hardship on the palate.

And it worked!  Thanks to the burbot, my Vitamin D levels returned to normal. Fish tend to accumulate toxins from our water systems, especially carnivorous bottom feeding fish.  I will share my findings on mercury levels in burbot and some other Yukon fish in the next blog. If you’ve ever wondered about the nutrients in wild meat and fish harvested from the land, check out this comprehensive table of data compiled by Centre for Indigenous Peoples’ Nutrition and Environment at the University of McGill:

Traditional Animal Foods of Indigenous Peoples of Northern North America

Chef Joseph Shawana: Inspired Indigenous Cuisine

by Miche Genest

Pulled Caribou at Kū-Kŭm Kitchen in Toronto.
When chef Joseph Shawana was growing up on Manitoulin Island on Lake Huron, and he wanted to eat morel mushrooms, he just went outside and picked some. “I didn’t even know how much morels cost until I moved to Toronto and people were talking about morels for 50 or 60 bucks a pound, and that was quite a steal,” he says. “And here I am at home just frying them in a little bit of garlic and butter.”

Cedar, juniper, partridge, the white-tailed deer and a “huge abundance” of morels are just some of the wild flora and fauna found in Shawana’s traditional territory on the Wiikwemkoong Unceded Reserve. Along with cultivated foods sourced from small, local producers, wild foods form the backbone of the menu at Shawana’s Toronto restaurant, Kū-Kŭm Kitchen.

The seasonal menu reflects Shawana’s heritage and his training—he attended culinary school in Toronto and worked in several restaurants there, most recently at Snakes and Lattes, where in 2016 he featured a special Aboriginal Day menu that quickly sold out, eventually inspiring him and partner Ben Castanie to start up Kū-Kŭm.

Shawana’s 27-seat spot, opened barely a year ago in an older mid-town neighbourhood, is one of four Indigenous restaurants in Toronto, and his work is emblematic of a new wave of Indigenous chefs across Canada who are wowing diners by combining traditional ingredients with contemporary cooking techniques.

Three of those chefs—Shawana, Shane Chartrand of Sage Restaurant in Edmonton, and Christa Bruneau-Guenther, chef and owner of Feast Café Bistro in Winnipeg, will be in Carcross, Yukon Territory on April 7, cooking for the First Nations Fire Feast, a Yukon Culinary Festival event co-hosted by Northern Vision Development. Held in the Carcross Tagish First Nation’s newly built Learning Centre, the feast will be cooked, as the title suggests, over open fires, and will feature dishes that highlight the food systems of Indigenous peoples.



“It’s a really good opportunity to showcase Indigenous cuisine,” says Shawana. In the spirit of collaboration and mentorship, each chef will work with a Yukon First Nations chef or culinary student to produce dishes that celebrate Indigenous cuisine.

Shawana will bring a few different Indigenous traditions with him, starting off the multi-course meal with a squash, corn and bean soup that honours the Haudenosaunee or Iroquois nations of southern Ontario and the north-eastern United States.

Squash, corn and beans are known as the Three Sisters in that tradition; they are companion plants that help each other in the growing phase. Corn stalks support the bean runners, the bean plants fix nitrogen, and squash provides ground cover, moisture retention and protection against rodents.

As a tribute to the Inuit peoples of the Arctic, Shawana will serve seal loin, seared in a pan over the fire and accompanied by sautéed sea asparagus from the West Coast, some wild onions and wild garlic, and fire-roasted Yukon beets.

Shawana took some flak when he introduced seal meat at Kū-Kŭm in October 2017. A petition with more than 3,000 signatures circulated online, demanding he remove seal from the menu. That sparked a counter-petition from a Toronto Indigenous artist, who was frustrated at the bad press Shawana was getting, and with a more  general misunderstanding of Indigenous culture and traditions.

Shawana was aware he might be headed for controversy. “We were hesitant to have [seal] on the menu here at first, just because we knew we’d get a little bit of backlash for it,” he says. But, as he told CBC in an earlier interview, “…it’s part of the northern community’s culture. So we’re trying to pay homage to them, as we do with everything else.… It’s all dietary needs of the Indigenous communities from east to west.”

Seal meat is still on the menu at Kū-Kŭm, and Shawana says it’s doing very well. Not long ago he served his seal to a party of Inuit diners. “It was their first time of having seal the way we serve it here,” he says. “They loved it.”

Seal Tartare, with nasturtium.
Shawana learned to love cooking at his grandmother’s side; she cooked for the family and for the community.  “My grandmother played a huge role in all of our lives growing up. That’s part of the reason I named my restaurant Kū-Kŭm. Another reason is my wife is Cree and Kū-Kŭm means grandmother in Northern Cree—so it’s a way of paying tribute to my wife [too], who is a huge part of who I am today.” A mural of his grandmother, his mother and his mother-in-law graces one wall of the restaurant.

Dinner at Kū-Kŭm might include main courses of pulled caribou wrapped in caul fat, goose with puff pastry, or bouillabase of mixed Canadian fishes and seafoods in a cedar and anise broth. Dessert could be a pot of rich chocolate mousse lightly flavoured with lavender. But the meal always ends with a cup of cedar tea. In winter, passersby can drop in, even if the restaurant isn’t open, to warm up with a cup of that same tea.

“My grandmother always taught us to keep the door open, because you never know who’s going to want to come in and get fed, or just keep warm,” says Shawana. “ That simple, human hospitality goes hand in hand with Shawana’s philosophy of respect for whole ingredients and for bringing community together over food. “We deal with smaller businesses that actually know their products and know their farmers and their families, and know how everything is harvested.”

Shawana sources wild ingredients from Forbes Wild Foods, who work with several Indigenous communities in Ontario. “So we’re helping that business out, which in turn helps out a lot of First Nations communities.” Before Shawana was approached by organizers to take part in the First Nations Fire Feast, he wasn’t aware there was a food scene happening in the Yukon.

“It doesn’t surprise me, just considering that everybody is starting to go back to the roots of where food actually comes from.” “It doesn’t come from the grocery store, it comes from [outside] our back doors.” To purchase tickets for the First Nations Fire Feast, visit here.

Spring is in the Air!

The cows at Klondike Valley Creamery catch some rays while awaiting spring and grazing. Photo by Suzanne Crocker.
The nights are still cold in Dawson City (-20°C), but the days are warm, the sky is blue and the sun shines for at least 12 hours every day. In the mid-afternoon it is very pleasant to bask in the warmth of the sun.  The cows at Klondike Valley Creamery agree. During the winter, the snow cover prevents the electric fence from grounding properly, so the cows spend most of their days in the barn.  But soon, they will be pasture grazing once again. Bring on the sun!

Suzanne’s Blog: Local Easter Treats


Yeah for the Easter Bunny who recognized that, this year, our house was Dawson local food only! The kids were a bit worried that they would be sent on a hunt for hard boiled eggs. But, instead the Easter Bunny hid local carrots (fresh, sweet & crunchy), fruit leather (in flavours of wild strawberry, raspberry, haskap and saskatoon berry) as well as birch syrup toffee. Yum!

Guess the neighbourhood kids got extra chocolate eggs this year.
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