Chicken and Sausage Gumbo

Colette turns nine this week. My girl is nine. She asked for a "cooking party" — she wanted to learn to make gumbo, and she wanted her friends to learn with her. I looked at Danielle. Danielle looked at me. Neither of us had ever hosted a children's gumbo-making party. Neither of us knew what that meant. But when Colette asks, you figure it out.

Eight girls. My kitchen. Aprons. (Danielle bought aprons for everyone, because Danielle.) I set up stations: Station 1, the trinity (onion, celery, bell pepper — pre-diced, because knives and nine-year-olds are a combination I'm not ready for). Station 2, the seasoning (I let each girl add a pinch of something to the pot). Station 3, the roux. The roux was mine. I am not letting nine-year-olds near a 400-degree roux. But I let them watch, and I explained what was happening — the oil, the flour, the heat, the color changing, the patience — and eight little girls watched a roux turn from blonde to peanut butter to chocolate, and I saw it in their faces: wonder. The wonder of transformation. The wonder of something becoming more than it was.

Colette stirred the gumbo once it was assembled. She stood on her step stool and stirred with the wooden spoon — Mama's spoon, the one her mother gave her — and I stood behind her with my hands near hers, not touching, just near, the way Joey stood behind me when I was nine and stirring my first gumbo. The chain, cher. The chain from Joey to me to Colette. It doesn't break. It bends, it stretches, it crosses state lines and death and decades, but it doesn't break.

The girls ate gumbo. Nine-year-old girls ate gumbo. Some loved it. Some were skeptical. One girl named Madison said, "It's slimy," and Colette said, "That's the okra, Madison, and it's supposed to be like that," with a tone that suggested Madison had just insulted Colette's grandmother, which — she kind of had. The gumbo was good. Not great. Not Mama's. But good. And Colette made it, with eight friends and a wooden spoon and a papa who stood behind her trying not to cry because his nine-year-old daughter just made her first gumbo and the world is hard and beautiful and sometimes both at the same time.

This is the gumbo we made that day — eight girls in aprons, three stations, one wooden spoon that’s been stirring gumbo longer than I’ve been alive. I’ve simplified a few steps from how Joey taught me, because I wanted Colette and her friends to feel like they were really doing it, not just watching. The roux is still the real thing, though. You don’t shortcut the roux. That’s the whole lesson.

Prep Time: 30 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 30 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 large yellow onion, diced
3 stalks celery, diced
1 large green bell pepper, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 pound andouille sausage, sliced into 1/4-inch rounds
1 1/2 pounds bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs
8 cups chicken stock
2 cups fresh or frozen sliced okra
1 (14.5-ounce) can diced tomatoes, drained
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
Salt and black pepper, to taste
1 tablespoon filé powder (optional, for serving)
Cooked white rice, for serving
Sliced green onions, for garnish

Instructions

Season and brown the chicken. Pat the chicken thighs dry and season generously with salt, pepper, and smoked paprika. Heat a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Add a drizzle of oil and brown the chicken on both sides, about 4 minutes per side. Remove and set aside.
Make the roux. In the same pot, add 1/2 cup vegetable oil and 1/2 cup flour. Stir constantly over medium heat with a wooden spoon, watching the color change from blonde to peanut butter to deep chocolate brown, about 20 to 25 minutes. Do not walk away — the roux will burn if you stop stirring. (This is the part worth watching.)
Add the trinity. Stir in the diced onion, celery, and bell pepper. Cook until softened, about 5 to 7 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute more.
Build the gumbo. Add the sliced andouille sausage and cook for 3 minutes. Pour in the chicken stock, stirring to incorporate the roux. Add the diced tomatoes, bay leaves, cayenne, dried thyme, and Worcestershire sauce. Return the browned chicken thighs to the pot.
Simmer. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer for 45 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through and tender.
Shred the chicken. Remove the chicken thighs from the pot. Shred the meat, discarding skin and bones. Return the shredded chicken to the gumbo.
Add the okra. Stir in the sliced okra and simmer uncovered for 15 minutes more. (Yes, Madison, it’s supposed to be like that.) Season with salt and pepper to taste. Remove bay leaves.
Serve. Ladle gumbo over cooked white rice in bowls. Sprinkle with filé powder if using and garnish with sliced green onions.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chicken and Sausage Gumbo — The One Colette Made When She Turned Nine