Hearty Jambalaya

October. The kitchen shifts to fall. The soups return. The stews return. The braising and the slow-cooking and the three-hour simmering that fills the house with warmth and makes the kitchen the center of the universe, which it always is, but which in October is more obviously so, because in October the world outside the kitchen is getting cold and the world inside the kitchen is getting warm and the difference is the cooking and the cooking is the magic.

I am writing more frequently for the blog — weekly now, long pieces, each one a chapter in the serial memoir that the blog has become. This week I wrote about the garden ending — about the last tomatoes, the last basil, the pulling of the plants, the turning of the soil for winter. The post was about endings and beginnings and the way the garden dies every fall and comes back every spring, and the coming back is the faith, and the faith is the planting, and the planting is the act of a woman who believes that spring will come, because spring always comes, even when winter is long, even when the cold is permanent, even when the garden looks like nothing will ever grow there again. Spring comes. The tomatoes come. The faith is rewarded. I plant. I wait. I harvest. I plant again.

I made a butternut squash risotto — creamy, rich, the rice absorbing the squash and the broth gradually, patiently, the way good things absorb what they need: slowly, with attention, with the willingness to stand at the stove and stir and wait and stir again. The risotto is patience in a bowl. I need patience. The risotto provides.

That week of writing about endings — the last tomatoes, the pulled plants, the turned soil — left me hungry for something that rewarded patience the same way a garden does: give it time, give it attention, and it gives you everything back. The risotto had done that for me mid-week, but by Sunday I wanted something with a little more fire, a little more celebration of the season, something that could simmer on the stove and fill the house the way October deserves. This Hearty Jambalaya was exactly that — a pot that asks you to trust the process, layer the flavors, and wait, which is, I’ve decided, the whole point of fall cooking.

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

Ingredients

1 lb andouille sausage, sliced into 1/2-inch rounds
1 lb boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1-inch pieces
1/2 lb medium shrimp, peeled and deveined
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large yellow onion, diced
1 green bell pepper, diced
3 stalks celery, sliced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
2 cups long-grain white rice, uncooked
3 cups chicken broth
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

Brown the sausage. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the sausage slices and cook 3–4 minutes until browned. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside, leaving the drippings in the pot.
Sear the chicken. Add the chicken pieces to the same pot and cook 4–5 minutes, turning once, until golden on the outside. Remove and set aside with the sausage.
Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add the onion, bell pepper, and celery to the pot. Cook 5–6 minutes, stirring occasionally, until softened. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Season and add tomatoes. Stir in the Cajun seasoning, smoked paprika, thyme, oregano, cayenne, salt, and black pepper. Add the diced tomatoes with their juices and stir to combine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot.
Add rice and broth. Stir in the uncooked rice, chicken broth, and reserved sausage and chicken. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer 20–25 minutes, stirring once halfway through, until the rice is tender and has absorbed most of the liquid.
Finish with shrimp. Nestle the shrimp into the pot, cover, and cook an additional 4–5 minutes until the shrimp are pink and cooked through. Do not overcook.
Rest and serve. Remove from heat and let stand, covered, for 5 minutes. Fluff gently with a fork, taste for seasoning, and serve topped with sliced green onions and fresh parsley.

Nutrition (per serving)

Hearty Jambalaya — When the Kitchen Becomes the Center of the Universe