Oh my, what is there in this world that compares with a steaming bowl of real honest-to-God gumbo? Just the memory of a spoonful of great gumbo can send you swooning years later. When the deep rich fragrance and dark chocolate color have you completely mesmerized; when each bite offers layers upon layers of complex flavor; when true alchemy has taken place in that gumbo pot -- then you know that life is truly, truly sweet.
No two batches of gumbo are ever the same. You can't go home again, and you can't make the same pot of gumbo twice, either, no matter how you might try. Whether you're setting out to make your first-ever pot of gumbo, or your thousandth, you'll almost certainly learn something in the process that you'll use the next time; but the next batch will still have new charms all its own. This is one of the great pleasures of cooking gumbo.
Before you get to look at a recipe, we need to consider two subjects: the stock and the roux.
Your own homemade stock is the ideal thing. Even if you start with a canned chicken stock, or use clam juice as a substitute for seafood stock, you still ought to consider a few kitchen maneuvers to add some depth and character. (Some folks will even use just water and beer in place of stock for a long-cooking gumbo. I'm not saying that this doesn't work, but we're aiming here for the extra layers of flavor we can get from a slowly-simmered stock.)
For poultry stock, we want a rich, dark-brown stock. One excellent trick is to use the oven to prepare the ingredients for the stock pot. If you're making stock from scratch, first roast the bones in a very hot oven until well-browned. A mix of poultry bones is terrific -- e.g. chicken, turkey and duck. Put the roasted bones in your stock pot and cover with water; then, leaving only a tiny amount of fat in the roasting pan, put your roughly-chopped onions (skins on) and carrots in there, and roast them until well-browned, too. Now you can add them to the stock pot, along with plenty of water to cover everything to a depth of at least a couple of inches; also add your celery, peppercorns, bay leaf, and herbs. Deglaze the roasting pan, scraping up the brown bits from the bottom, and also add this to your stock pot. Bring the stock pot to a boil, skimming the scum off the surface until no more forms, then reduce the heat. Simmer slowly for six to eight hours. Finally, strain, cool in shallow pans, remove all fat from the surface, and refrigerate.
For same-day preparation, if you don't already have your own homemade poultry stock, you can start with canned chicken stock. Be sure to use a low-sodium stock so that you can control the saltiness of the finished product. You can use some of the above instructions, including the roasted onions and carrots, to greatly improve on the canned stock. Once your onions and carrots are well-browned, add them to the canned stock, along with your celery, peppercorns, bay leaf, and herbs; then simmer slowly. You'll still need to start early, but this can at least be done earlier the same day you make your gumbo. Strain the stock before starting to cook the roux, since you won't get another chance after that.
For seafood stocks, of course, we don't roast anything. When preparing seafood stock, be sure to wash your fish bones thoroughly so that the stock doesn't get unpleasantly fishy. Avoid dark-fleshed or oily-fleshed fish when making stock. On the other hand, crustaceans are especially good for this purpose, and your crawfish shells, shrimp shells, crab carcasses and even a lobster carcass or two will certainly build you a fine stock. You'll want to put some roughly-chopped onions and celery, peppercorns, a sliced lemon, a few crushed garlic cloves, and some shrimp and crab boil in your stock pot. Once you've brought it to a boil and skimmed away the scum that rises to the top, simmer slowly for two or three hours; then strain well, cool in shallow pans, remove all fat from the surface, and refrigerate.
For same-day preparation, in the absence of your own homemade seafood stock, clam juice is probably the best alternative. You might consider using a mixture of clam juice and water as the basis for a quick seafood stock, including your shrimp shells, fish bones and what have you, and otherwise more or less following the instructions in the previous paragraph. Be sure to strain, cool and remove surface fat before you start cooking the roux.
I'm not offering specific proportions for making stocks from scratch. You can base your proportions on what you find in just about any cookbook, adjusting the recipe to fit what you've got on hand. Thyme and parsley are the herbs most often used for the poultry stock. If you don't have fresh herbs, you can use dried herbs, but wait until you're done skimming the surface of the stock pot to add them. Naturally, many variations are possible. For instance, I often add a few whole cloves to the stockpot. The best idea for these standard stocks is to make quite a bit at a time, then refrigerate overnight, remove the fat that rises to the surface, and freeze the defatted stock in jars. Then you'll be all set to make gumbo the next time the mood comes over you!
More than anything else, it's the roux that gives gumbo its particular character. Making roux is something of an art. It may take some practice to get good results. If dark specks appear, or if you smell something burning, you'll need to throw out the roux and start over. Don't try to base your gumbo on a burnt roux!
That said, let's make a nice dark Cajun roux. A Cajun roux is just flour cooked in fat until it acquires a dark color and a deep, complex, somewhat smoky flavor with nut-like overtones. Some folks have claimed that one can make a roux in the oven or even in the microwave, omitting the fat, but the one true way is to cook the roux on the stove top in a deep, heavy skillet or Dutch oven. The catch is that it will take forty-five minutes to an hour to cook the roux at the proper temperature so that it doesn't burn, and that you will need to stir constantly, working pretty hard the whole time. Some use a large whisk or a large spatula to keep the roux moving, but I find that a large, long-handled wooden spoon works best for me.
The choice of fat does affect the taste of the gumbo. Lard and bacon fat are the traditional choices (sometimes blended together), but other animal fats, or even vegetable oil or shortening, may be used. The choice of fat may be influenced by the kind of gumbo you are going to make -- duck fat for a duck and sausage gumbo, for example. You may decide to use vegetable fats for a seafood-only gumbo, and animal fats for your other gumbos. I myself consider either bacon drippings alone, or bacon drippings blended with vegetable shortening, excellent for making a roux. If you do use bacon drippings, you will want to strain them carefully to remove any burnt bits before starting your roux.
Regular bleached all-purpose flour is fine for a roux. The proportions of flour to fat vary depending on how thick you want the roux to be. Approximately two parts flour to one part fat works well for me. If I need about a cup of roux, I use a cup of flour and about half a cup of fat, perhaps increasing the quantity of fat by a tablespoon or two depending on the result I'm looking for that day.
Before we start cooking, two points of caution. First, be extra careful when making a roux, since it gets (and stays) incredibly hot, and if you splash any on yourself, it's going to stick to you. You could get a heck of a burn if you don't watch yourself.
Second, you need to have the vegetables for your recipe already chopped and close at hand before you start cooking the roux, as well as your stock waiting on a back burner, already strained and defatted and ready to go. This is because we are going to slow the cooking of the roux by adding the vegetables (and possibly some other stuff) when it reaches the appropriate state, then after a few minutes more stirring, slowly start blending in hot stock, a little at a time. If everything isn't ready to go in advance, you risk burning the whole mess after you've already put in an hour stirring -- so be sure to get all set up before starting the roux.
The trick to success in making a roux is to properly regulate the temperature of the burner. Heat the fat over medium to medium-high heat before adding the flour. Stir in the flour, and from that point on, don't stop stirring. If the roux starts to get darker than a peanut-butter color before half an hour has passed, your heat is too high. You may still be able to rescue the batch of roux if it's not already scorched. Remove the pan from the heat, still stirring, and turn down the burner a bit. Let the heat dissipate for a while (keep stirring!) before returning the pan to the burner. It may take some experimenting before you find the right setting for your stove. If you find that you've burned the roux, you must discard it, thoroughly clean the pan and utensils, and start over.
If all goes well, the roux should change from a peanut-butter shade to a dark chocolate color about forty-five or fifty minutes into the cooking process. You should be heating your stock by now. A good gumbo requires a really dark roux, but at this point there is again some danger of burning, so prepare to add your chopped vegetables (including onions, celery and bell peppers) to slow the cooking of the roux. Keep stirring vigorously as you add the vegetables, and continue stirring as they cook. Once the onions are transparent, start blending in your now-hot stock, little by little. You're going to keep stirring until you've blended in all of the stock. The result will be a gloriously dark, complex-flavored, authentic base for your gumbo.
Onward to some recipes!
Ingredients:
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup bacon drippings, lard, oil or shortening
1 to 1-1/2 pounds boneless chicken breast
1 pound andouille or smoked sausage, sliced
2 to 3 cups chopped onion
1 cup chopped scallions (green onions)
1 cup chopped bell pepper
1/2 cup chopped celery
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
4 to 6 garlic cloves, minced
3 quarts poultry stock (see above)
Salt, black pepper and hot sauce to taste
Seasonings for chicken: garlic powder, black pepper, cayenne pepper and paprika
Oil for frying the chicken
Plenty of cooked rice
Filé powder
One reason that I prefer to start the gumbo pot first, then fry the chicken, is that this way the chicken doesn't wind up falling apart or getting soggy in the gumbo pot. On the other hand, if you begin by frying the chicken, you can reuse the fat in which you fry the chicken, and even the excess flour used to coat the chicken, when you make your roux. A difficulty with this latter method is that you may wind up with burnt bits in the fat after you've fried the chicken, which can damage the roux. I've done it both ways, and waiting until after making the roux to fry the chicken seems to produce better results.
Use this recipe as a starting point. There are innumerable variations possible, and I use some of the following just about every time. I've saved these for the end mainly to make the recipe more readable:
You might also try adding a little Worcestershire sauce, some beer or wine, and/or any of a number of ground spices such as allspice, cloves and nutmeg. I've used all of these, and no doubt a few others, at one time or another, but none has gained a permanent place in my basic recipe. If you want to experiment with these, keep tasting, adding just a little at a time, thoroughly mixing in each addition before tasting again.
Have fun -- you're going to love this gumbo!
Ingredients:
1-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup oil
1 pound shrimp, cleaned, peeled and deveined
1 pound crawfish tails, cleaned and deveined
1 pound white-fleshed fish fillets, cut into bite-sized pieces
2 to 3 cups chopped onion
1 cup chopped scallions (green onions)
1 cup chopped bell pepper
1/2 cup chopped celery
1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
4 to 6 garlic cloves, minced
1 lemon, halved and seeded
3 quarts seafood stock (see above)
Salt, black pepper and hot sauce to taste
Plenty of cooked rice
Filé powder
Don't feel overly constrained by this (or any other) gumbo recipe. Substitutions and additions are what gumbo is all about. This recipe will make you a delicious seafood gumbo, but it's far from being the only delicious seafood gumbo you might make -- so if, for example, you can't get crawfish tails, don't let that hold you back. In particular, you might:
These are some of my favorite variations, but you can add pretty much any seafood that appeals to you. Also, most of the variations given at the end of the previous recipe work just as well here. Some folks like to add some oysters right at the end of the cooking process. Some like to cook the seafood longer, while others prefer the seafood to be barely cooked. All of these approaches can produce excellent gumbo if the chef has a clear idea what kind of final result he or she wants to achieve. Just keep tasting, keep experimenting, and enjoy that pot of gumbo!
I'd guess that most of the gumbos I've ever made were basically variants of one of the two recipes above. You can make a good chicken and andouille gumbo without frying the chicken, too, but lately I've become convinced that the approach outlined in the first recipe above gives incomparable results. Likewise, you can use okra in a seafood gumbo if you want, but lately I seem to prefer to do something closer to the second recipe above.
That said, one other memorable gumbo that you might want to try is made with rabbit and sausage. The idea is to make the stock by boiling the rabbit (after half an hour or so, remove the meat from the carcass and return the bones to the stock pot), then make the gumbo base as for chicken and andouille gumbo. However, this time add the rabbit meat along with the sausage, and also include some wine. Simmer slowly for two or three hours. This is so good it could change your life.
Naturally there are whole other categories of gumbos I haven't even touched on here -- vegetarian gumbos, gumbos with beans, and gumbos with pork, ham and greens, to name a few. No doubt I'll revise this page with a few more recipes one of these days. In the meantime, print it out and start cooking!
Right now (23 January 1996) I've got a wonderful warm feeling that comes from knowing that there's a good bowl or two of gumbo waiting in the fridge for my lunch. See, I told you that life is sweet!
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This page last modified 21 December 1997.
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