“No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, November!”
— Thomas Hood

Don't get lost in the woods right now. It's cold and there's nothing much to eat. No matter the weather, we can rely upon the exuberant and generous Juniper to gift us with at least a spicy condiment. Common and Rocky Mountain Junipers are native to the Palouse. As their habitat is now wheat fields, we look to the unwitting, ornamental landscape for our forage. Junipers are an evergreen shrub (or tree) varying in size, shape and color, yet somehow retaining a quintessential "juniper-ness." Around our towns, I have spotted both tall and short, blue-grey and lacey Junipers (Blue Pfitzers or Juniperus Chinensis Pfitzeriana 'Glauca' as Huckleberry calls them), as well as deep urgent green, short 'Tam' Junipers. These plants are on almost every corner. Most Junipers have edible "berries" with one exception: the unpalatable One Seed Juniper. This tree-like, bluish Juniper is used in landscaping and looks a little like an arborvitae. If you are at all unfamiliar with spotting and identifying Junipers, please consult your expert: person or book. If the berries on an evergreen, needle-leafed shrub are red, it is a Yew and could cause a gruesome death. Having indubitably identified your Juniper, you will want to identify its sex. Juniper "berries" grow, of course, only on female plants. The males have pathetic little brown/green cones. The females have round reproductive organs called "berries" which are actually fleshy cones with a grey bloom. You will notice small, purple, second-year berries and larger, green, first-year berries. Reassuringly, both are fine for culinary use. I look for a good, weedy base around the plant or spider mite webs, hoping they are evidence that pesti/herbi-cides have not been applied recently. I avoid the creeping Junipers, as they look like great targets for territorial dogs. Once found, what is it that we do with Juniper berries? In my house, I dry them in the oven on less than low for several hours, until they look like peppercorns. Then I put them in my spice grinder and use them just like pepper, just for the thrill. "Why would you want a pepper substitute?" I was asked. Answer: It's local. It has no colonial history. It has more complex flavors than pepper. As I gather and prepare it, I feel connected to tens of thousands of years of human foraging and food preparation history. I get to meet some wonderful plants. And I'm madly in love with it. That's why. I recommend using a little bit at first, until you get used to it. I adore it in mustard-tamari salad dressing, vinaigrette coleslaw, cheesy noodles, homey lentil soup, borscht (with dandelion roots), and in apple, carmelized onion, and cabbage soup (see accompanying recipe). You can also use them fresh, crushed or whole. Put fresh, whole berries in while cooking and removing them later, as with a bay leaf. Junipers are included in “Wild Berries of the West” (Mountain Press Publishing Company, 2001) despite the fact that Junipers produce fleshy cones, not berries. The authors, Betty R. Derig and Margaret C. Fuller, remind us that Junipers flavor gin. Oil of Juniper is toxic and the berries are not to be eaten in large quantities. Without giving us any specific preparation advice, Derig and Fuller inform us that the Nez Perce, among others, treated colds, coughs, headaches and the flu with Juniper tea. Some tribes treated sinus congestion by inserting a juniper twig in a pierced septum. The aromatic smoke of burning Juniper was used by many tribes to cleanse and purify a home. The Hopi would hold a child over the smoke of burning Juniper until it was cured of naughtiness. Junipers were also used as a green dye, a writing tool, diapers (!), rope, necklaces, a talisman against evil, love-charm flutes, contraception, abortion, to start labor, and to ward off bad baby dreams. In this month of Thanksgiving, I will be giving thanks for the spicy beauty of the Juniper, a generous shrub, bestowing upon us berries and greenery in a time when both are scarce. Also, I am thankful to not be lost in the woods. Cabbage, Apple and Juniper Berry Cream Soup, adapted from “S.O.U.P.S: Seattle's Own Undeniably Perfect Soups” by Michael Congdon 4 Tbsp. butter 1 1/2 onions, thinly sliced 2 Tbsp. cider vinegar 2 apples, sliced (I used feral apples) Salt 1 tsp. ground pepper 1 Tbsp. Juniper berries (I grind these with my peppercorns) 1 cup apple cider, hard or otherwise 1 small head cabbage, shredded 4 cups stock (which I make by boiling the ends of the onions and cabbage with Juniper berries) 2 cups cream or whole milk Melt 2 Tbsp. of butter in a soup pot. Add onions. Stir well. Cover, stirring occasionally, for 10-15 minutes. When onions begin to caramelize, add vinegar. Stir well and cook for 3-5 more minutes. Remove and set aside onions. Melt the remaining 2 Tbsp. butter in the soup pot. Add sliced apples and 1 tsp. salt. Stir, cover and simmer for 10 minutes. Grind in peppercorns and Juniper berries. Add cider. Stir, cover and simmer for 10 minutes. Add 1 tsp. salt and cabbage. Simmer for a few minutes. Add onions and stock. Stir, cover and simmer for 15 minutes. Add cream. Mix well. Simmer. Remove from heat. Eat. Sarajoy focused on a twisted Juniper while in labor with her daughter Blue Juniper Georgia. |