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Okra Gumbo — The Faith You Put Into the Pot

The last week of the year, and I stand in the kitchen making Hoppin' John for New Year's Day the way I have every year since my marriage — the black-eyed peas soaking, the ham hock simmering, the ritual as fixed as the calendar it marks. The year behind us: 2019. The year Joy moved to Magnolia House. The year Carrie got into Emory. The year Mama's voice got thinner and her blessing got slower and her presence in this kitchen became something I measure in hours of clarity rather than days. The year the house changed shape — contracted from five to three during the week (Naomi, Robert, Mama), expanded on weekends when James comes home, expanded further on holidays when Carrie and Joy return.

Robert and I stayed up until midnight again — champagne on the piazza, fireworks over the harbor, the same tradition we have been performing for twenty-two years. He said, "Next year, I retire." Not "I want to retire" or "I'm thinking about retiring" but "I retire." The declarative sentence. The closing argument. Robert Blackwood, attorney-at-law, has rested his case and delivered his verdict, and the verdict is woodworking and gardens and mornings without a commute and the particular freedom of a man who has spent twenty-seven years arguing other people's cases and who wants to spend the rest of his life building his own things.

I said, "Good." The word was simple and I meant it simply. I am ready for Robert to be home. I was afraid of it in October. I am not afraid of it now. The fear dissolved the way fears dissolve — not through courage but through time, through the slow evaporation of the anxiety that produced the fear, replaced by the understanding that two people in a house is not crowding. It is company. And company is what I need in a house where Mama is becoming less present and the quiet is becoming more absolute.

Mama slept through midnight. Ruth had tucked her in at eight. The sleeping was deep and peaceful and unaware of the year changing, which is a mercy, because the awareness of time passing is the awareness of loss accumulating, and Mama has been spared that awareness, and the sparing is the one gift the disease has given.

The Hoppin' John was good — peas and rice and pork and the faith that the new year will bring luck, which is not faith in luck but faith in the cooking, and the cooking is the only faith I have left that has never disappointed me.

Hoppin’ John is the ritual, but gumbo is its cousin — the same faith in a heavy pot, the same patience with a slow simmer, the same insistence that certain foods are not just meals but declarations. This Okra Gumbo is what I reach for when the year turns and the house feels both smaller and fuller than it did before, when I need something that asks something of me and gives back more than I put in. The okra thickens the broth the way time thickens a marriage — quietly, without announcement, until one day you look at the pot and realize it has become exactly what it was supposed to be.

Okra Gumbo

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 10 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1/3 cup vegetable oil
  • 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1 medium yellow onion, diced
  • 3 stalks celery, sliced
  • 1 green bell pepper, diced
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 12 oz andouille sausage, sliced into rounds
  • 4 cups fresh or frozen okra, sliced into 1/2-inch rounds
  • 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, with juices
  • 5 cups chicken broth
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 1 tsp dried thyme
  • 1 tsp smoked paprika
  • 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper, or to taste
  • Salt and black pepper to taste
  • Cooked white rice, for serving
  • Sliced green onions, for garnish

Instructions

  1. Make the roux. In a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven, heat the vegetable oil over medium heat. Whisk in the flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 10 to 12 minutes until the roux turns a deep golden brown the color of peanut butter. Do not walk away — this step requires your full attention.
  2. Build the base. Add the onion, celery, and bell pepper to the roux. Cook, stirring frequently, for 6 to 8 minutes until the vegetables soften. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute more until fragrant.
  3. Brown the sausage. Add the andouille sausage rounds to the pot and cook for 3 to 4 minutes, stirring occasionally, until lightly browned on the edges.
  4. Add the okra. Stir in the sliced okra and cook for 5 minutes, letting it begin to break down and contribute its natural thickening to the pot.
  5. Simmer the gumbo. Pour in the diced tomatoes and chicken broth. Add the bay leaves, thyme, smoked paprika, and cayenne. Stir to combine, bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Simmer uncovered for 25 to 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the gumbo has thickened and the flavors have come together.
  6. Season and serve. Remove the bay leaves. Taste and adjust salt, black pepper, and cayenne as needed. Ladle over cooked white rice and garnish with sliced green onions.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 340 | Protein: 14g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 21g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 870mg

Naomi Blackwood
About the cook who shared this
Naomi Blackwood
Week 196 of Naomi’s 30-year story · Charleston, South Carolina
Naomi is a retired librarian from Charleston who spent thirty-one years putting books in people's hands and now spends her days putting her mother's Lowcountry recipes on paper before they're lost. She survived her husband's affair, her father's sudden death, and the long goodbye of her mother's final years. She cooks she-crab soup in a bowl that Carolyn brought from Beaufort, and in every spoonful you can taste the marsh and the memory and the grace of a woman who chose to stay and rebuild.

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