Emily Exon - GameChanger Cookbook

The crisp mornings are slowly returning, bringing with them the kind of sunrise that reminds me why I love this season.

The moon is still making its way home as the first light spills across the hills, warming dew-covered fields and waking the landscape. These quiet mornings ask nothing of you except to stand still and accept the silence as you take it all in.

Hunting season is still a little over a month away, but mornings like this are a reminder that it’s coming. The anticipation is already building, and I can’t wait for the adventures that lie ahead.

Fermenting hot sauces has completely changed the way I think about heat. It creates layers of flavour and complexity that you just can’t achieve any other way. Some combinations become instant favourites, while others remind me that not every experiment is a success—and that’s okay. The best part is the process of learning, tasting, and chasing that next incredible flavour.

That’s what GameChanger is all about: staying curious, trying something new, and never being afraid to experiment.

Some seasons demand more patience than others.

This spring brought more rain than I knew what to do with, cool days that slowed everything down, and hailstorms that tore through my raised beds just as they were beginning to thrive. It’s hard not to feel discouraged after pouring so much time and hope into a garden.

Failure teaches us to reflect, access, adapt and move forward. Next year, I’m going to do things a lot differently…

Today, I pulled the first harvest of beautiful red beets from the greenhouse garden, and somehow they felt like a small victory worth celebrating. A reminder that even after setbacks, something beautiful can still grow, even if it’s because it was protected within the walls of a greenhouse.

Here’s to appreciating the wins—no matter how small—and trusting that every season has something to teach us. ❤️🌱

In keeping with my tradition of new year goal setting, I’m starting the week off with some kitchen science.

This season, I’m experimenting with vacuum-sealed fermentation. I’ll admit, it comes with a touch of anxiety (there’s nowhere for those inevitable gases to escape), but with a keen eye and a bit of patience, I’m trusting the process over the pressure…pun intended.

On the counter today:
• Plain lemons (nothing fancy here)
• Plain blood oranges (I’m excited to see how their earthy flavour evolves)
• Navel oranges with Timut pepper (hoping for a sweet orangey grapefruit vibe)
• Red oranges with Timut pepper (this one…)

Red oranges already carry a subtle grapefruit note, so pairing them with Timut—known for its bright, citrusy, grapefruit-like character—it felt like a natural extension of flavour rather than a contrast. An orange that hints at grapefruit, paired with a pepper that does the same….might be a winner…might be a loser. Only time will tell and we’ll find out in about 10 days.

Fermentation has a way of teaching us to slow down, observe, and let good things happen in their own time.

What a whirlwind the holidays can be! One minute you’re eagerly prepping stockings, wrapping gifts and fretting over holiday decorating and dinner menus; the next minute it’s all over and you’re left feeling alone, tired and stunned at how much got done and how fast the time slipped away.

As the New Year settles in, the silence offers an invitation — to reflect, to reset, and to reclaim both space and time. Today, I’m working through the familiar mix of emotions that follows the holidays: the sadness of closing a meaningful chapter, paired with inspiration found in simplicity, quiet mornings, and a slower rhythm at home.

2026 feels fresh and wide open. A perfect year, untouched and full of possibility. I stepped away from New Year’s resolutions a long time ago. Instead, I keep a list of goals I can return to — goals rooted in growth, skill-building, and presence rather than pressure.

This year, that means spending more intentional time on the GameChanger cookbook, learning new skills like fishing and deepening my understanding of fermentation, and choosing to stay present with the people who matter most — less screen time, more real moments around the table and outdoors.

Here’s to honoring the quiet season, setting thoughtful intentions, and letting the year unfold naturally — one meal, one skill, one meaningful moment at a time.

It’s officially cookie time! ❄️✨

There’s something so magical about slowing down in December… turning up the Christmas music, dusting the counters with flour, and filling the kitchen with the scent of cinnamon and butter. This year I’m baking my absolute favourites — cinnamon snowflake cookies, West Virginia classics, no-bake treats, and those irresistible chocolate crinkles that always disappear first.

Simple, cozy, homemade joy — that’s the heart of the season. Let’s tie on the apron, pour a mug of something warm, and bake memories together. 🎄🤍

The drive home from Lake Louise yesterday was wild in all the best ways. A thick fog blanketed the landscape making it hard to see the road at times but the little silhouettes of trees covered in heavy snow and frost was so beautiful! Here in Alberta, winter’s icy grip has taken hold and cold nights call for something rustic and satisfying — the kind of meal that warms you from the inside out. I created this recipe last night, Elk Sausage Chili where wild game flavour, pantry staples, and a little kick of heat is sure to fill you with comfort and joy.

Brown elk, jalapeño and cheddar sausage with onion, jalapeño + garlic. Add home canned tomatoes, chicken stock, chili powder, cumin, salt, pepper, parsley and black beans — let it simmer into a rich, cozy pot of comfort. Serve with rice, splash of lime, a little cheddar, creamy yogurt, and fresh avocado for balance.

Simple ingredients, big flavour. Exactly how wild cooking should feel. ✨🦌

Here’s the on-brand caption with hashtags added, keeping your classy, nature-inspired, hunting-lifestyle tone:

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So this happened… and I’m still catching my breath.
The last couple of days have been a whirlwind in the best way. I’ve been working hard to fill this tag all season, and after four years of learning the rhythms and challenges of elk hunting, this one feels especially meaningful. I’m used to filling my freezer with whitetail, but elk are an entirely different world—powerful, intelligent, deeply connected to their herd. The more time I spend pursuing them, the more I admire them.

This is my first time drawing an antlerless elk tag, and I’m proud to say the miles, the early mornings, and all the glassing paid off. My freezer is now stocked with beautiful, nourishing meat that will feed my family for months.

For the next few days, you’ll find me in my kitchen—apron on, knives sharpened—breaking down and processing every piece with the care and gratitude it deserves.
Wild food at its finest.