The first time I ever had gumbo I was on a road trip to North Carolina, sitting in the driver's seat enjoying the fantastic scenery in West Virginia. My travel companion was eating something from a Tupperware container with a spoon and then suddenly turned to me. "Here," she said, "open wide." Eyes darting from her hand to road and back again, I tried to identify the heap of what looked like chicken, perhaps, and some faded green chunks in a kind of gravy. "What is it?" I wanted to know. "Fer godssakes, just try it," she insisted.
Yeah, her dimples made me do it. I submitted, opened wide and took a bite.
It could be that I was simply thrilled by having a really cute woman feed me while I drove, but my love of gumbo was confirmed the second time I had it. In the north, one doesn't see gumbo on a menu very often and I actually forgot all about the dish until years later when friends of ours both of whom grew up in Louisiana had us over for dinner one night.
It was a finger-numbing, skin-freezing, tear-producing February night, the kind that makes you absolutely sure that spring will never actually arrive, that we will live through some version of winter until August. We hit their front door, shook off the wet and cold and stepped into the warm, well-seasoned air.
"Wow, that smells really good," one of the kids said. I peered into the pot to see a kind of brown gravy with chunks of chicken. Our host smiled, "We thought it'd be a great night for gumbo!" I could clearly recall my first gumbo encounter—though this version looked nothing like the first—and was happy to try it again, though this time I fed myself.
That gumbo warmed me to the core, satisfied my hunger and tasted great. I appreciated the base of rice, the authentic andouie sausage, the need for hot sauce. It was a perfect meal for a night such as this and, though it might be a dish from the South, in my opinion, it deserves a place on any Midwestern menu.
We would, over the next few years, before we moved to Chicago, be invited over for our friend's gumbo multiple times. It was watching them make it that inspired me, having recently entered the kitchen myself, to give this gumbo thing a try. Our friends showed us a jar of pre-made roux, but I wasn't so convinced. It was good, but I'm all about "from scratch," so I went to my failsafe resource: The Joy of Cooking.
From the first batch, I altered the recipe significantly. I added a good deal more vegetables, more herbs and spices. I make mine with only chicken breasts and don't bother with the whole bird. Over time, I learned to not add the okra until the very end. And my version has never achieved that ruddy color. That first time, I think I was too scared of letting the flour burn and having to start over. But now, my family loves my blonde version of the dish. It's a requested "soup" during the cold-weather months and has one of my son's favorites. (He still mostly picks the chicken chunks out of the sauce, but he's learned how to shake on the hot sauce!)
Gumbo is a perfect dish to make while the snow falls, while the ice forms, while the wind howls outside. It's ideal for a casual dinner with friends, a one-bowl meal that you can easily balance on your lap while you're wrapped up in a blanket sitting and talking, or watching a movie together. Serve it with Bell's Two Hearted Ale, over basmati rice, with plenty of Tabasco sauce. We can complain about the weather here in Chicago. But what's the point? It's December now. It's here for awhile. So, get the ingredients and make a plan for a pot of gumbo. Make a big pot. It just so happens to freeze really well, too.
Chicken and Sausage Gumbo
3-4 lbs of boneless, skinless chicken breasts
Ingredients for chicken shake:
˝ cup of flour
˝ tsp cayenne pepper
˝ tsp chili powder
˝ tsp paprika
1 tsp fresh ground pepper
1 tsp salt
1 tsp garlic powder
2 large onions—diced
2 green peppers-diced
2 stalks of celery—diced
6-8 cloves of garlic--minced
8 cups (two boxes) chicken broth
1 lb of smoked sausage (If you can find andouie, that's great. I usually use kielbasa as a substitute. That's easier to find in a city with a Polish population second to that of Warsaw.)
One bag of frozen okra (15 oz.)
1. Heat 2-3 tablespoons of oil in a large soup pot.
2. Cut chicken into chunks and shake in a bag with the ingredients listed above for the chicken shake.
3. Brown the chicken in the pot over medium heat, and then set aside.
4. Add ˝ cup of vegetable oil to the pot and gently try and remove whatever bits of chicken that may have stuck to the bottom of the pot.
5. Whisk in ˝ cup of flour and gently and constantly stir until the flour turns color. Supposedly, one can cook the roux until it is "reddish-brown" but I usually only wait until it gets golden—6 or 7 minutes. The roux should be bubbling so be very careful as it WILL burn you if it gets on your skin.
6. Remove the roux from the heat and add all the diced vegetables and minced garlic. Stir for a few minutes until the roux stops bubbling.
7. Add the chicken and chicken broth to the vegetable mixture, bring to a boil, turn down to a simmer and cover.
8. In 45 minutes or so, add the sausage.
9. Stir every so often and cook (perhaps for another 45 minutes) until the chicken is soft and starts to shred, until the vegetables are extremely soft. While the gumbo is simmering, season to taste using salt, pepper, and/or garlic salt.
10. Add the bag of frozen okra and bring to a boil again. Turn down to a simmer and cook for 15 minutes. During this time cook the rice.
11. When the okra begins to break down, loses it's dark green color, it's ready. Spoon over the rice. Add hot sauce. Enjoy!
