Chad Chandler

I don’t know of it’s beach fever or just a craving for seafood, but we decided to make a big pot of seafood gumbo for our Memorial Day weekend staycation.

I’ve only made gumbo a few times. Making the roux is pain in the ass and the shrimp, fish and sausage aren’t cheap. So when I do get the itch to make it, I make a lot and freeze the leftovers.

Here’s everything you need:

Seafood Gumbo

• 1 pound andoille sausauge, sliced
• 1 pound shrimp, peeled, deveined and chopped
• 1 pound cod, chopped
• 2 onions, chopped
• 3 bell peppers, chopped
• 6 stalks celery, chopped
• 1-2 cups okra, sliced
• 1/2 head garlic, chopped
• 1 lemon, juiced
• 1 1/2 sticks butter, divided
• 1/2 cup flour
• 1 (29 oz) can whole peeled tomatoes, crush by hand in juice
• 1 box low sodium chicken stock
• 5 cups water (plus more for andoille baking dish)
• 3 bay leaves
• 1 tablespoon worcestershire sauce
• 1/4 cup fresh, chopped parsley
• 1 tablespoon dried thyme
• 1/2 teaspoon cayenne
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/4 teaspoon paprika
• salt, pepper and sugar for seasoning

There are almost as many gumbo purists as there are barbecue purists. I’m not one of them. Traditionally, you either thicken your gumbo with okra, filé or tomatoes. I don’t know why you can’t use all of them when you make a big enough batch.

Most gumbo rules can be bent, but there are a few that shouldn’t be broken or else it’s not really gumbo anymore. The base of gumbo must be a dark roux, the vegetables must start with the holy trinity, and the sausage needs to be andouille. These three things combine to give gumbo its unique, Cajun flavor.

Louisiana was settled by the French, so Cajun cooking is based on French cuisine. To start your gumbo, you chop equal parts celery, bell pepper and onion. That’s what the French call the trinity.

To cook the andoille, poke some holes in the casings with a fork and put them in a small casserole dish. Add just enough water so the sausages are half-submerged and add a pinch of black pepper and the juice from half of a lemon. Put the casserole dish in a 425° oven and cook until the sausages are firm, flipping at least once.

When they’re pretty firm to the touch, take them out of the casserole dish and set them aside. Don’t drain the water and fat in the casserole dish. This mixture is your secret ingredient (heretofore known as the andouille juice).

To make the roux, you sauté equal parts flour and butter (1 stick butter and a half cup of flour in this case) over medium heat until the starchy taste cooks off and the mixture reaches the desired color. People get intimidated by this step, but it’s actually pretty easy. The problem is that you can’t walk away until it’s done. Melt the butter in a pot and add the flour a little at a time, stirring constantly to work out the lumps. As you can see, I had to draft the wife to take a picture while I worked on my roux.

You’ll have to stir constantly for about five minutes. After that, the roux will get less doughy. Once it starts to darken, it’ll take on the consistency of heavy cream and you only have to stir it every minute or so. If you scorch your roux and see black flakes, you have to start all over again, so you want to get it right the first time. A good roux will give your gumbo its unique taste and color. When it’s chocolate brown, pour in the whole box of low-sodium chicken stock a cup or two at a time. This is going to produce some piping hot steam at first, so stand back or you’ll burn yourself. Make sure you incorporate the stock well with a whisk.

In another large pot, melt a quarter cup of butter (half a stick), drop in a big spoonful of the andouille juice, and add the trinity and garlic. Sprinkle in about a half tablespoon of salt and stir. You want to soften the vegetables and evaporate some of the water.

Cook it for maybe 10 minutes and then add the roux/stock mixture. This is your gumbo base. If you’re adding 3 pounds of meat/seafood, then you need to add about 5 cups of water. This is when you add all of your herbs, spices, crushed tomatoes, lemon juice, etc. — everything except the meat and seafood. If you taste the gumbo, it’ll be a little watery and bland. That’s normal. If you like thick, red gumbo, then add a big can of tomato purée.

Cover and simmer for an hour. Go ahead and slice the sausage, fish and shrimp. Oh, and here’s some friendly advice; cod can really stink up the fridge. Keep it in a ziplock bag in a cooler outside until you’re ready to cook it. And never put shrimp peels in your kitchen trashcan.

At the hour mark, add the andouille to the pot. After another half hour, add the fish to the pot. It’ll break up and flake into small pieces, but those pieces will remain firm. After another 20 minutes, add the chopped shrimp and taste the gumbo. This is your last chance to season it. Add the andoille juice a quarter cup at a time until you reach the desired heat and season to taste with salt, pepper and sugar.

The shrimp will be done cooking by the time you finish seasoning the gumbo. Remember to remove the bay laves before serving. The gumbo should be earthy, spicy and very fresh-tasting. Garnish with scallions and fresh, chopped parsley. Serve with some white rice and pass around the hot sauce and filé powder.

I don’t think gumbo tastes right without filé, but you should never add it to your pot. Filé can’t be boiled or it gets gummy. So even if you take your pot off the heat before you add it, you won’t be able to reheat your leftovers properly without potentially ruining the gumbo. If you’re dead-set on having a bit of that filé flavor in your pot, then put an Earl Gray teabag in your gumbo for a half hour. That’ll come closer than you might think to mimicking the taste.

UPDATE: I’ve matured beyond this gumbo to what I think is the best recipe yet: Prefect Gumbo

Tags: Cajun, Filé, Gumbo, Herbs, Okra, Roux, Spices, Trinity

This entry was posted on Monday, May 31st, 2010 at 6:27 am and is filed under Cooking, Recipes. You can follow any comments to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a comment, or trackback from your own site.