Captain Russell's Jambalaya — The Saturday Na-Na Taught Someone to Be at the Stove

One week post-surgery. The walker is back. The aluminum companion. The thing that makes me feel ninety instead of seventy-three, but that keeps me upright and moving and alive, which is its job, and I will not insult it for doing its job, even though the job makes me feel like a woman whose legs have been repossessed by the bank.

Denise is on duty. The spreadsheet is active. Medications at eight, noon, and six. Ice the knee. Elevate. Do not cook. That last instruction is, as before, written in red and underlined twice, and I have, as before, already violated it by directing Denise from the recliner on the correct method of making grits. "Denise," I said, "you are stirring too fast." She said, "Mama, you said the same thing last time." I said, "You're still stirring too fast."

Michael and Pearl came Saturday. The sacred Saturday. But this sacred Saturday was different because na-na was in the recliner instead of at the stove, and the stove was being operated by Kayla, and Michael looked at me and looked at the stove and looked at me again and said, "Na-na, you cook?" And I said, "Not today, baby. Na-na has a boo-boo. But na-na will cook again soon." He processed this. He walked to the recliner. He climbed into my lap — carefully, avoiding the knee, because three-year-olds understand "boo-boo" with perfect accuracy. He sat on my lap and he said, "Na-na, I cook for you."

He cooked for me. Not really — he was three, and the cooking consisted of Kayla making grits while Michael stood on a stool next to her and stirred. He stirred the grits. He held the spoon that his na-na holds, in the kitchen that his na-na runs, and he stirred the grits with the concentration of a boy who understands that this is important and that the importance comes from the woman in the recliner who is watching and whose eyes are wet.

The grits were — I have to say this — the grits were acceptable. Not perfect. Kayla's grits, with Michael's stirring. A collaboration between a nurse and a three-year-old, supervised by a seventy-three-year-old woman from a recliner, on a Saturday morning that was supposed to be sacred and that was, in fact, the most sacred Saturday of all: the Saturday when the teaching came back as the doing. When the boy who watched became the boy who stirred. When the food continued, not because na-na was at the stove, but because na-na had taught someone to be there when she couldn't.

Now go on and feed somebody.

Michael stirred grits that Saturday, but what I kept thinking about — all week from that recliner, ice on the knee, leg up, Denise hovering — was the next time he comes and na-na can finally stand. When I can put a real pot on the stove and show him something with layers: the sausage going in first, the onions going soft, the rice soaking up everything that came before it. Captain Russell’s Jambalaya is that pot. It’s the one I make when I want a kitchen to smell like it means something, when I want whoever is stirring — whether that’s me, or Kayla, or someday a boy on a stool — to understand that good food doesn’t rush.

Captain Russell’s Jambalaya

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 1 lb andouille sausage, sliced into 1/4-inch rounds
• 1 lb boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1-inch pieces
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 medium yellow onion, diced
• 1 green bell pepper, diced
• 3 stalks celery, diced
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
• 2 1/2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
• 1 1/2 cups long-grain white rice, uncooked
• 2 teaspoons Cajun seasoning
• 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
• 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper, or to taste
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 3 green onions, sliced, for garnish
• Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

1. Brown the sausage. Heat a large, heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the andouille slices and cook 3–4 minutes per side until browned. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside, leaving the rendered fat in the pot.
2. Cook the chicken. Add the olive oil to the pot if needed. Add the chicken pieces, season lightly with salt and pepper, and brown on all sides, about 5 minutes. Remove and set aside with the sausage.
3. Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add the onion, bell pepper, and celery to the pot. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 6–8 minutes until softened. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
4. Season and add tomatoes. Stir in the Cajun seasoning, smoked paprika, thyme, oregano, and cayenne. Add the diced tomatoes with their juices and stir to combine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot.
5. Add liquid and rice. Pour in the chicken broth. Return the sausage and chicken to the pot. Stir in the uncooked rice and bring everything to a boil.
6. Simmer covered. Reduce heat to low, cover tightly, and cook for 20–25 minutes until the rice has absorbed the liquid and is tender. Do not lift the lid during this time.
7. Rest and fluff. Remove from heat and let stand, covered, for 5 minutes. Fluff gently with a fork, taste for seasoning, and adjust salt and cayenne as needed.
8. Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with sliced green onions and fresh parsley. Serve hot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 480 | Protein: 32g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 46g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 820mg