gumbo luncheon

Today's luncheon was a success, more or less. The gumbo was a surefire hit, but the cornbread elicited a complaint of "gritty" from my Korean coworker—but only after I had said it was gritty. I might have to soak the cornmeal next time to soften it up, but I wonder what that might do to the recipe, which is otherwise perfect.

Despite having gotten a head start on prep last night, I needed all the way to lunchtime, this morning, to finish the prep. There was a lot left to do: I had to cut up and prep (i.e., par-cook by pan-frying) the chicken, then bake the frozen andouille and cut it up. (It's easier to cut after baking.) The okra I'd ordered turned out to be from India or Pakistan (or so I'm guessing from the brand name "Bhindi" and the fact that it's labeled as halal), and even though it was frozen, I had to use my kitchen shears to cut it further down to size. As the okra melted, its snotty mucilage made holding the vegetable a slick, slippery affair, but I got the job done. 

Making the roux took the longest: you put an equal volume of cooking oil and flour into your pot, then stir and stir and stir some more, never quitting the pot until the roux has turned brown. This takes the better part of an hour, but I've seen one video where a confident chef slammed his roux with extreme heat and got it to chocolate-brown in less than half that time. Chocolate-brown is the roux's ideal color, which I take to be like a Snickers bar, but because of my time crunch today, I only got the roux to a bit past butterscotch-colored before I added all the vegetables—bell peppers, onions, celery, crushed tomatoes, and okra—everything chopped up so as to be spoonable. I mixed the veggies with the roux, then added the chicken stock (fortified with garlic powder, filé powder, Cajun seasoning, and cumin) bit by bit. 

By that point, I had a proper stew, and it smelled good. The first protein to go in was the andouille, which had been baked and chopped up by that point although it was a bit dry and under-seasoned. (I'll have to alter the recipe for next time.) To make the andouille, I bought some ground pork at the downstairs grocery in my building, then ground up some pork belly (after removing the skin) to up the fat content and mixed that in with the store-bought pork. I then added Cajun seasoning and cumin to the pork, rolled everything into stubby, 150-gram sausages, froze it all overnight, and it was all ready to go this morning. I knew the pork would suffer the least from cooking a long time in the gumbo, and I wanted the andouille flavor to infuse the stew, so the pork went in first.

While the gumbo simmered, I had time to shower and dress, after which I dumped in the diced, par-cooked chicken, which didn't need long to cook the rest of the way. The shrimp would be added right before serving. I dumped the gumbo into a lock-tight plastic container, gathered up my cornbread, a block of butter, and the celery-leaf garnish, then headed out to the office. Like an idiot, I forgot to take along my frozen shrimp, but since the building where I work has its own grocery, I went down and bought a package of shrimp along with some microwaveable rice. Traditionally, rice is served on top of gumbo: it's the capper.

Most of the gumbo ingredients on display, including the shrimp I forgot to take.

Roux (oil + flour), slowly turning brown.

Holy Trinity (celery, onion, bell pepper) plus chilies, thrown into the roux and shedding water.

Big, fat, 150 g andouille, a bit under-seasoned but not tragically so.

The gumbo turns into a stew as I add the chicken broth.

Gumbo in my bowl at the office.

With rice on top, as God intended. (Sorry—no Louisiana rice.)

A glimpse of two loaves of cornbread (circular half-loaf on top if you can see it).

In all, a success. My Korean coworker went back for seconds. I should stick to making things that aren't that sweet; he obviously doesn't have a sweet tooth the way I do. The boss grunted his usual "S'good," and now, all I want to do is rest after all that prep. Gumbo, as with a lot of Italian dishes, is an all-day affair, or in my case, at least a two-day affair.

I'll either share the rest or eat it over the next several days.