Family Gumbo - only the Gummbo Knows!

By Stephanie Rose Family Gumbo—only the Gummmmbo Knows! By Stephanie Rose There’s more to New Orleans than Mardi Gras, marble mausoleums and major hurricanes. It’s a city with great passion—for life, for love, great food, strong families and true friends. As the trees and Spanish moss gently wave and sweet smells waft down every street, you can sense a current running through the city—deep, unique, omniscient and strong. It’s the New Orleans joie de vivre. I know that current well. Mardi Gras in many ways is an outward expression of that current. My mother and her family are native to the area so Mardi Gras for us means a major celebration—and a major family reunion. We become one with the city as we flow into the streets dressed in costumes, cheering the parades, enjoying the cuisine and reveling in the excess of each moment. Excess indeed! We eat and eat—and eat some more, chasing the bounty with generous portions of strong local drink. Two o’clock in the morning you’ll find us dancing from the Rock & Bowl to Zydeco and Tippitina’s, even catching the musical magic of a Neville Brother or two. And then, there’s Gumbo. Ahhh! Gummmmbo! Gumbo is “soul-food” stew and it doesn’t come from a box. True Gumbo comes from the heart, the product of passion and fresh ingredients—a labor of love for those of us who make it from scratch, carrying a personal touch as it carries us home.

Okra is the defining ingredient and that’s where Gumbo gets its name. The word comes from quingombo—a corruption of the Portuguese word for the okra plant found in the Congo area of Africa. That in itself is a corruption of the Bantu dialect word for the plant—kigombo. The best Gumbo recipe comes from my Grandma Yvonne Crais. It’s a seafood delight which can warm the soul—and many times it’s warmed her six children—and their children. I remember watching her whip up a batch. She chopped and stirred, even softly muttered an incantation or two to bring out the magic of the flavors. Like most great cooks, she needs no recipe, dumping in a little of this, a little of that. My family’s Gumbo recipes were never written down—until now. So I watched her and frantically scribbled her recipe on little scraps of paper from my phone book. The result? The grand Pooh-Bah of Gumbo—the best Gumbo on the planet!

Grandma Yvonne’s in her 80’s now. She lived her whole life in New Orleans until her landlord sold the little shotgun row house she’d rented forever on Robert Street. Thankfully, Hurricane Katrina didn’t find her. She’s now in Jacksonville, Fla., happily close to her two daughters Marie & Kinta.

The great Gumbo recipes didn’t stop with Grandma Yvonne. The next generation had some tricks of their own. My mother has perfected her own distinctive Chicken and Oyster Gumbo. This one is less expensive than Grandma’s and faster to get to the table. The secret ingredient? Sage. The herb really brings out the flavors, making it more of a “greeny Gumbo.” That’s what you call it down South and you have to use your very best New Orleans accent to say it. This Gumbo’s loaded with greens—green onions, okra, celery, parsley, thyme and bay leaf. Like I said—green. Add a cold glass of wine and it tastes even better.

Then there's Game Gumbo. This recipe comes from Sabrina, my mom’s youngest sister. Sabrina’s not much older than I am, a perpetually youthful spirit who is more like a sister than an aunt, God love her. She and her husband Benji were hit pretty hard by Katrina, but, like most in New Orleans, they’re resilient. They had a cute house, but it’s a bit of a wreck. Now their home is a F.E.M.A. trailer. These are difficult times. It’s takes lots of family, friends, love, laughter and even stronger Gumbo to get through it all. But it wasn’t always this way. I remember one Thanksgiving down in the Bayou at their summer house “Lafitte.” In the cool, fresh air of the evenings we’d listen to Benji playing his guitar, singing and telling his hilarious Boudreau (Stupid Cajun guy) jokes, making all of us rock back and forth with laughter as we sat around the glow of a camp fire. After Thanksgiving, we had lots of wonderful leftovers—turkey, duck and pheasant—all perfect bases for a game Gumbo. Add a little andouille sausage and voila! The problem was Auntie Sabrina didn’t know how to make Gumbo. Whaaaaaaaaat?! Someone from New Orleans not knowing how to make Gumbo?! It’s enough to put a chef in culinary arrest! So the Yankee (moi) taught the native. That’s right. I taught Sabrina how to cook like a true French New Orleans daughter. But she was a quick study. And in the family tradition, she took it and ran with it, coming up with her own unique game Gumbo recipe. There’s nothing like it the the fall and winter—whether you’re in the Bayou or not. Ahhh! Gummmbo!