Slow Cooked Jambalaya

I turned forty-nine on Christmas Day. CJ and his girlfriend—a woman named Brianna from Huntsville that I am meeting for the first time, a fact he mentioned approximately forty-eight hours before Christmas, which is very CJ—came down Tuesday. Destiny came Christmas morning. Doris and Harold drove up. James drove from Montgomery. The house was full the way it should be full on Christmas.

I set Marcus's place. I light a candle at his plate now—a white pillar candle, which I started last month and which felt right in a way I can't explain except that light seems like the correct language for Marcus, who was always warm, always bright, always the room's extra source of illumination. CJ saw the candle and put his hand on his chest. Destiny put her hand on mine. Calvin said grace and named Marcus in it and his voice held—not without cost, but it held—and we ate.

The food was right. Fried chicken that sang. Collard greens that went low and slow for five hours. Mac and cheese that made Brianna say, "Mrs. Simms, I have to know how you do this," and I said, "Come to my Saturday class, baby," because I say that to every woman who compliments the mac and cheese and I mean it every time. Cornbread dressing. Yams. Sweet potato pie. Pound cake. Bernice's kitchen through Loretta's hands. My children eating at my table. The candle burning. The year ending.

New Year's Eve finds me sitting at the kitchen table at eleven PM with the remains of the black-eyed peas I'm making for tomorrow—you eat black-eyed peas on New Year's Day for luck and prosperity, it is Simms family law, it is Southern law, it has been law since before I was born and it will be law after I am gone. The pot simmers. Calvin is asleep in the recliner with the sound of Times Square on the television. The house smells like the old year and the new year and the years that have always been and the year I am stepping into with all the weight of what this year was. 2018. God. But I am still here. The pot is still on the stove. Amen and amen.

That pot simmering on New Year’s Eve — the black-eyed peas going low and slow while Calvin slept and Times Square counted down — that’s the feeling I want to give you with this recipe. Slow cooked jambalaya is the same kind of faith: you put the ingredients in, you let the heat do what heat does, and somewhere in the waiting the whole house changes. It’s the dish I’ll be making the weekend after the black-eyed peas are gone, when the decorations come down and the family starts heading back to their own lives — something to keep the warmth in the kitchen just a little longer.

TRANSITION_START

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 6–8 hours (low) or 3–4 hours (high) | Total Time: Up to 8 hours 20 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 lb boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1-inch pieces
12 oz andouille sausage, sliced into rounds
1/2 lb medium shrimp, peeled and deveined (added in last 30 minutes)
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
1 can (6 oz) tomato paste
1 1/2 cups chicken broth
1 medium yellow onion, diced
1 green bell pepper, diced
3 stalks celery, sliced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp dried thyme
1 tsp smoked paprika
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper (or to taste)
1 tsp onion powder
1 tsp garlic powder
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 bay leaves
3 cups cooked long-grain white rice, for serving
Sliced green onions and fresh parsley, for garnish

Instructions

Layer the base. Add the diced onion, bell pepper, celery, and garlic to the bottom of a 6-quart slow cooker. These aromatics form the holy trinity of the dish and will cook down into the broth throughout the day.
Add the meat. Place the chicken thigh pieces and andouille sausage slices on top of the vegetables. The sausage will release its seasoned fat as it cooks, flavoring everything around it.
Build the sauce. In a bowl, stir together the diced tomatoes, tomato paste, chicken broth, thyme, smoked paprika, cayenne, onion powder, garlic powder, salt, and pepper. Pour over the meat and vegetables. Tuck in the bay leaves.
Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on LOW for 6–8 hours or on HIGH for 3–4 hours, until the chicken is tender and the sauce has deepened in color and flavor. The long cook time is not negotiable — patience is the secret ingredient.
Add the shrimp. In the last 30 minutes of cooking, stir in the shrimp. Cover and cook until they are pink and just cooked through, about 20–30 minutes on LOW. Do not overcook the shrimp.
Finish and serve. Remove and discard the bay leaves. Taste and adjust seasoning. Serve over hot cooked white rice in wide bowls, and garnish with sliced green onions and fresh parsley.

Nutrition (per serving)

Slow Cooked Jambalaya — Something Simmering on the Stove While the New Year Comes In