The weather has finally changed in New Orleans. Summer heat has given way to milder, cooler temperatures and the humidity has dropped. As far as I’m concerned, if you can walk outside at noon in a sweatshirt and not break a sweat, it is definitely gumbo season. 

Multiple volumes have been written about the origins of gumbo. The African word for “okra,” it began being applied to stews that used okra as a thickening agent. Food historians correct me, but my understanding is that in the stewpot that is New Orleans, African cooking merged with classical French cooking and then merged again with Cajun cooking (country French refugees from French-English wars in the Northeast) to create the dish we now know. Okra stew + classic rouxs made with butter + dark rouxs made with lard or oil + whatever meat or seafood one has + rice. Mix it all together and you have gumbo. 

My own experience with the dish is a bit of a stewpot itself. I grew up eating my paternal grandmother’s seafood gumbo which we had every Christmas Eve. My Dad has since taken over the tradition but uses her recipe. I presume they learned it living in New Orleans in the 50s and 60s and the tradition of serving it on that night in particular is likely a nod to the Catholic Feast of the 12 Fishes - a special non-meat meal served after Christmas Eve mass. It was one of my most favorite dishes and something to look forward to each year. 

My family used hand-chopped Trinity (onions, bell peppers, and celery) with a dark roux, okra cooked down to its essence, water in lieu of stock, and a whole bunch of seafood: oysters, scallops, shrimp, and crab legs. The broth was well flavored but always on the liquidy, in my opinion, and was made complete with a hefty serving of white rice. 

My husband introduced me to his family’s gumbo and it won me over. Learned at the hip of his maternal grandmother, it too starts with a dark roux. It rarely uses okra (but can and is no less or more delicious), and differs from my Dad’s in that it always uses either shrimp or chicken stock and is allowed to cook down to a much thicker consistency. Also, it employs the ingenious shortcut of using pre-chopped Trinity found at every New Orleans grocery store. We now make my husband’s chicken and sausage gumbo every Christmas Eve, too. And every Mardi Gras season, and just when it suits us. Thanks to Costco and that pre-chopped Trinity, you can essentially make enough for a small army with minimal cost or effort. 

The one truism about both my Dad and my husband’s gumbo, however, and the task that takes the most time and cannot be compromised, is the roux. It’s a one to one ratio of oil to flour. Use olive oil if you are feeling generous or Crisco vegetable oil if you have it on hand and all-purpose flour is the norm - a cup of each or double or triple per half-dozen people you are feeding. Use a heavy bottom pot - a Le Creuset if you have it but my favorite “Gumbo pot” from Walmart works just as well. A good roux is about stirring and patience and color. You add the two ingredients together and stir over medium heat, and stir and stir and stir, until it is the color of a seasoned wooden spoon. Don’t have a seasoned wooden spoon? Think milk chocolate or mahogany. But NOT one bit browner or it will burn. 

Once your roux is done, you basically throw in the Trinity and meat if you are cooking a game gumbo. Let that get all soft and gooey and then stir in your stock. John Folse, who knows a thing or two about Creole and Cajun cooking, says 8 cups for thick gumbo or 10 cups for “perfect Louisiana gumbo consistency.” My definition of “thick” differs from his, so I tend to use 6 cups per recipe but experiment and see what you think. Bring to a simmer and let it go for about 1-2 hours. You’ll need to skim the fat off the top before serving and it definitely tastes better on the second day. But even right out of the pot, with a big spoonful of white rice, some scallions, and a shot of Crystal hot sauce, it is the best thing ever. 

As soon as your weather turns chilly, make a pot and see if you don’t agree. One last tradition I encourage you to take up - add a few whole bay leaves to the pot. Whomever gets a bay leaf in their bowl is responsible for doing the dishes. 

Alex’s Chicken and Sausage Gumbo

1 cup flour

1 cup oil

6 cups chicken stock

2 links Cajun smoked sausage or Andouille, cut into thin half moon slices

4 skinless boneless chicken thighs, cut into small chunks

2 cups chopped Trinity (white or yellow onion, celery, and green bell pepper)

2 bay leaves

Crystal or Tabasco hot sauce

Tony Chachere’s Creole Seasoning

Make the Roux

Warm a heavy bottom pot that can hold at least 2 quarts over medium heat. Add the oil and cook. When a pinch of flour thrown in sizzles, stir in the rest of the flour. Whisk or stir with a spoon regularly until the roux is the color of milk chocolate. This can take up to thirty minutes so grab a beer, turn on some music, and keep stirring. 

Make the Gumbo

Once roux is the right color, add in the chopped Trinity and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onions are soft - 2 minutes or so. Add the chopped meat and stir until bits of the chicken start to look opaque and the sausage starts to soften. Season generously with Tony Chachere’s, 3-5 shakes. Add chicken stock and bay leaves and bring to a boil. Once bubbling, turn down to a simmer and cook for an hour or two. If you gauge by the side of the pot, the liquid line should cook down at least an inch. Stir occasionally to make sure nothing sticks to the bottom of the pot. You can turn off heat and leave on the stove until you are ready to serve. Before plating, skim the oily layer off the top, bring the gumbo back up to temperature over low heat and give it a few good stirs. 

Serve the Gumbo

Plate in chili bowls or shallow pasta bowls with a scoop of rice (on bottom or on top is really a matter of preference). Garnish with chopped scallions and/or chopped Italian parsley. Allow individuals to season with hot sauce to their own tastes. 

Makes 6-8 large servings

Make sure to pack up any leftovers - it’s better the next day when the flavors have melded even more in the fridge.