Big Batch Jambalaya

Spring 2041. Lisa and I have been talking about Las Cruces. Not just as a place to visit — as a place to live. The conversation started after the last trip, when I stayed ten days and didn't want to leave, and it's been building since then in the way that large decisions build: not with a single conversation but with accumulating evidence that points in one direction. Papá is eighty. Mamá is eighty-one. They are healthy and independent and not asking for anything — they would never ask for anything — but they are eighty and eighty-one and I have the clearest window I've ever had to be near them, and I don't know how many windows remain.

Lisa grew up in Denver. Her family is here. Her sister is here, her friends, her studio. I asked her early in the conversation: is this something you could want, or something you'd do for me? She thought about it for a few days and then said: both. Which is the honest answer that I needed more than a simpler one. She said: your parents won't be here forever. We won't be here forever. If there's something we can do now to have more time with the people we love, we should do it. That's what she said. I sat with it for a week and then I said: let's look at houses in Las Cruces.

We haven't told the kids yet. Not until we're sure. But we drove down in March and looked at four houses and one of them felt immediately right — a single-story adobe three blocks from Mamá and Papá, a backyard big enough for a garden, a kitchen with a gas range and enough counter space to make tamales for twenty. We're thinking. We're close.

When we stood in that kitchen in Las Cruces — the one three blocks from Mamá and Papá, with the gas range and all that counter space — I found myself thinking not about square footage or mortgage rates but about what I’d cook there first. Something big. Something loud enough for twenty people to crowd around. This jambalaya is exactly that: a one-pot meal built for the kind of gathering I’ve been quietly dreaming about, the kind where everyone ends up in the kitchen and nobody leaves early because the food keeps coming and the conversation won’t stop.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 12–16

Ingredients

2 lbs andouille sausage, sliced into 1/2-inch rounds
1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 lb large shrimp, peeled and deveined
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 large yellow onions, diced
4 stalks celery, diced
2 green bell peppers, diced
1 red bell pepper, diced
8 cloves garlic, minced
2 (14.5 oz) cans diced tomatoes
6 cups chicken broth
3 cups long-grain white rice, uncooked
3 tablespoons Cajun or Creole seasoning
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper (adjust to taste)
2 bay leaves
Salt and black pepper to taste
4 green onions, sliced (for garnish)
Fresh parsley, chopped (for garnish)

Instructions

Brown the sausage. Heat olive oil in a very large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the andouille sausage and cook, stirring occasionally, until browned on both sides, about 5 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside.
Cook the chicken. In the same pot, add the chicken pieces. Season lightly with salt, pepper, and a pinch of Cajun seasoning. Cook until browned on all sides, about 6–7 minutes. Remove and set aside with the sausage.
Build the base. Add the onions, celery, and bell peppers to the pot. Cook over medium heat, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom, until the vegetables are softened, about 8 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute more until fragrant.
Season and combine. Stir in the Cajun seasoning, smoked paprika, and cayenne. Add the diced tomatoes (with their juices), chicken broth, and bay leaves. Stir well to combine.
Add rice and proteins. Return the browned sausage and chicken to the pot. Stir in the uncooked rice, making sure it is submerged in the liquid. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover tightly and cook for 20–25 minutes, until the rice is tender and has absorbed most of the liquid.
Add the shrimp. Uncover the pot and nestle the shrimp into the top of the jambalaya. Re-cover and cook for 5–7 minutes, until the shrimp are pink and cooked through. Remove and discard the bay leaves.
Rest and serve. Remove from heat and let the jambalaya rest uncovered for 5 minutes. Fluff gently with a large spoon. Taste and adjust seasoning. Garnish generously with sliced green onions and fresh parsley before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Big Batch Jambalaya — Cooking for the People You’re Not Ready to Leave