SECRETS TO REALLY GOOD POSTTHANKSGIVING TURKEY GUMBO
Perhaps my favorite dish of the Thanksgiving season comes the day after.
While folks line up early to catch Black Friday sales, you’ll find me in the kitchen, humming along to my favorite tunes, stirring a steaming pot of gumbo that will be ready just in time for a favorite football game. Over the long weekend, the flavors will intensify. These leftovers are the best leftovers.
There are as many ways to prepare gumbo as there are hungry gumbo lovers. This is my only way.
I learned as an eager young housewife at the elbow of a true Creole cook. I sat on a stool in his outdoor kitchen, laughing at his stories and his awful Cajun jokes, as he shared his Creole-cooking ways.
He taught me that it is attention to detail that yields the best results, that a proper roux is complete in about the time it takes to drink two
beers, and that any flaws will be unnoticed in equal measure to the love with which the gumbo is made.
But we’ve all had bad gumbo, so let’s start by talking about roux. You can’t make gumbo without cooking flour in fat to make a roux, and my favorite roux is made with leaf lard. You may also substitute an equal quantity of the fat of your choice: vegetable oil, duck fat, schmaltz (chicken fat), butter. I know old-school cooks who even use bacon grease.
Olive oil is not a good choice for roux. It has a low smoke point that is not appropriate for the intense heat or extended time required for roux development. (Important note: If your roux scorches, toss it and start again. Roux bad, gumbo bad.)
The darker a roux, the less thickening ability it has. A lighter roux will thicken more, which is why you might see cooks who use a darker roux calling for okra or filé powder to aid in thickening.
But before you start the roux, early in the day, or preferably the day before, prepare your ingredients. Once you start cooking the flour and fat, the process goes fast and there is not one appropriate second to look away, so have your other ingredients ready and set aside, covered, within reach.
Chop celery, onion and bell pepper into equal, uniform sizes for a more professional finish and pleasant mouthfeel. The “trinity,” as it is known, is designed to flavor the gumbo, not to be an actual bite.
Andouille, a highly seasoned sausage made of smoked pork butt, can be difficult to find outside of Louisiana, and sadly, what passes for andouille in the meat case of your local grocery bears little resemblance. That might be your only choice, though, unless you make a special trip to Stuffed Cajun Meat Market or another specialty store such as Salt & Time, Dai Due or Smokey Denmark. As a last resort, substitute a good-quality smoked kielbasa.
If you and your diners are sensitive to heat, season judiciously as you go. Spices and salts will intensify with cooking and positively bloom overnight.
Cajun seasoning could be purchased pre-mixed from the spice aisle, or you could make one of your own and regulate seasonings according to your own preferences. The homemade seasoning I use has less salt, no garlic powder, a touch more celery salt than usual, marjoram and a favorite cayenne pepper.
Filé powder is a gumbo seasoning and a thickener made from ground sassafras leaves, but don’t add it to the pot. You can add it to individual bowls of cooked gumbo, but boiling filé powder results in gelatinous ribbons of yuck. It is often used in place of okra, which is usually out of season by this time of year, but some people downright detest it.
Speaking of polarizing gumbo ingredients, some folks add chopped tomatoes to gumbo. Not this folk, but some. Traditionally, tomato is found in Creole versions of gumbo, while the more rustic Cajun gumbo omits. Use one small can of drained, chopped tomatoes, if you must.
One of the biggest takeaways from my Thanksgiving gumbo is that the best stock comes from bones that have been roasted first. This is true of your everyday rotisserie chicken or the deep-fried turkey you just ate for a holiday dinner. The heat brings out even more richness and flavor in the bones before the carcass hits the soup pot.