The roux goes on forever, but the gumbo never ends

"Guff" Coast Shrimp Gumbo

Dear Rachel,

So, since it’s more fun to write to you than it is to watch the House Ways and Means Committee hearing (in which they stumble their way through explaining why they won’t raise taxes to fix the hole the state has dug itself into, as if Governor Goodhair’s run to replace Obama has nothing to do with it.) I think some gumbo is in order. I’m copying my big sister and dearest friend Elizabeth, who lives in Baton Rouge, LA, pursuing her PhD at LSU and works as a spokesmodel for “her people” on the side, just so that you know my recipe is “fo true, ma cher.” Besides, you need to know each other. She has an outstanding sense of humor, which is a good coping mechanism when you live in hurricane-prone swampland populated by a dating pool of guys named Earl.

Boudreaux and Thibodeaux in their native habitat 

I promise your Jewish heritage does not bar you from making outstanding gumbo, anymore than my McWop ™ roots prevent me from making kick-ass Cajun food. It helps that I grew up on the mainland side of Galveston Bay, where we get really excellent crabs, shrimp, oysters, red snapper and redfish—all of which are best prepared by our neighbors to the East in Louisiana.  Despite this, the very best shrimp in the world come from right here in Texas, in a little fishing town-turned resort called Kemah. And they sell them here, at Rose's Seafood, where my family have been customers since the Carter Administration. So, I know from gumbo and you get get benefit of my experience.

Also, most of the other Anglo (as in Caucasian, not as in British) Catlicks at St. Pius were named Boudreaux, Theriot, Fontenot, etc, so I grew up hearing a lot about and eventually eating a lot of exotic Sunday post-church Cajun dinners made by ladies named Marie--all while while my protestant friends suffered through plates some grayish thing named “Roast” regardless of its provenance.  They deserved it, I assure you.

Pasadena Catlicks stuck together

Growing up Catholic in the Land of the Evangelicals wasn’t easy, what with all the Baptist kids passive-aggressively and sometimes pointedly letting me know that they’d pray for me, even though it was a sure thing I was going to H-EE-LLLLL (the whole three syllable version.) They had me pegged at an early age—like in third grade. We Romans stuck together. So, it’s only human nature that I both cleaved to, and learned to make fun of, all my Cajun friends. ‘Cause you know, if you’re going to HELL, you may as well have company. Which reminds me of a couple of jokes.

Boudreaux the Born Baptist

Each Friday night after work, Boudreaux would fire up his outdoor grill and cook a venison steak. But, all of Boudreaux's neighbors were Catholic....And since it was Lent, they were forbidden from eating meat on Friday.

The delicious aroma from the grilled venison steaks was causing such a problem for the Catholic faithful that they finally talked to their priest.

The Priest came to visit Boudreaux, and suggested that he become a Catholic. After several classes and much study, Boudreaux attended Mass.....and as the priest sprinkled holy water over him, he said, "You were born a Baptist, and raised a Baptist, but now you are a Catholic. Amen"

Boudreaux’s' neighbors were greatly relieved, until Friday night arrived, and the wonderful aroma of grilled venison filled the neighborhood.
The Priest was called immediately by the neighbors, and, as he rushed into Boudreaux’s' yard, clutching a rosary and prepared to scold him, he stopped and watched in amazement.

There stood Boudreaux, clutching a small bottle of holy water which he carefully sprinkled over the grilling meat and chanted: “You wuz born a deer, you wuz raised a deer, but now you a catfish. Amen”

Boudreaux and the crab grass

Boudreaux was paddling his pero (boat) down on the bayou and he passed by Thibodaux's camp.

Thibodaux ax, "What dat you got in that pero?"

Boudreaux say, "Crabgrass- Me gonna go catch me some crabs, me."

Thibodaux laughs and say, "You fool, you can't catch crabs with crabgrass."

An hour later Boudreaux comes back with a boat load of crabs and show them to Thibodaux.

The next day Boudreaux was paddling his pero and passed by Thibodaux's camp again.

Thibodaux ax, "What dat you got in that pero?"

Boudreaux say, "Duck-tape- Me gonna go catch me some ducks, me."

Thibodaux laughs and say, "You fool, you can't catch ducks with duck-tape."

An hour later Boudreaux comes back with a boat load of ducks and show them to Thibodaux.

The next day Boudreaux was paddling his pero and passed by Thibodaux's camp again.

Thibodaux ax, "What dat you got in that pero?"

Boudreaux say, "Pussywillow."

Thibodaux say, "Hold on! I’ll get my hat! "

De Gumbo, Ma Chere!

The Holy Trinity

Those creoles and Cajuns know their way around a stockpot. The vein of French culture shows in the technique; there’s always a flour and oil-based roux and a mix of aromatic vegetables that form the base of the dish. In Louisiana cooking, onions, celery and bell pepper form the “Holy trinity” that takes the stead of the French mirepoix. Also lots of garlic and green onions. This is where the healthy part ends. The rest ain’t exactly Jenny Craig.

If you want to make a good, authentic gumbo, you have to develop a very expansive attitude towards your concept of “edible.” Like their Gallic forebears, Louisianans use EVERYTHING—snouts, tails, frogs, raccoons, nutria, squirrels, whatever flies/swims/ambles in their Parish. The French do this too—my grandfather once noted that he was offered a ragout of fox during WWII. So, if Paris was in a swamp, this is what the food would taste like there. Plus Tabasco, which they use on all consumable items. Fortunately, you only want shrimp gumbo, so you’re off the hook for learning how to skin a possum. All you gotta do is know how to select, shell, and devein the critters, which I’m sure you’ve got figured out already.

Best. On. Earth.

Here’s the deal—if you don’t have great fresh seafood, don’t worry. Frozen is okay. Not everyone is as blessed as we on the Guff (the l is silent) are. But it's better if you do, so look for big brown or white shrimp with the heads on. Much more flavor in the heads, and we’re making a fume, or shrimp stock with them. If you’re not too squeamish and the fish guy lets you, pinch them to see if they’re springy—you don’t want mushy ones. IMPORTANT: Avoid anything imported from Southeast Asia—they farm-raise shrimp there and GOD ONLY KNOWS what they feed them. Maybe leftover roast. You want wild-caught Gulf shrimp. At least we know what they were raised up on, thank you British Petroleum.

Also, some people use the Cajun sausage, andouille, to add some smokiness to this recipe, but I think it detracts from the seafoodiness of the thing, and besides, you avoid pork. You could mess around with substituting in smoked turkey wings, etc., but I think it’s better to have the courage of one’s convictions, leave it out altogether and go for a really rich shrimp stock instead. NB: if you were making chicken gumbo or red beans and rice, the turkey wing thing ain’t a bad idea.

Guff Coast Shrimp Gumbo

2lbs head-on jumbo Gulf shrimp

4 oz flour

4 oz oil

2 quarts water

2 cups white wine

1 large onion, finely chopped

2 stalks celery, finely chopped

1 big bell pepper, finely chopped

4 cloves garlic, minced

Bay leaf, thyme, granulated garlic, onion powder or Zatarain’s Cajun Spice

Worcestershire, Tabasco

Gumbo Filé  (I’ll mail you some if you can’t find it)

½ cup chopped green onions

White Rice

Have the boys decapitate and shell the shrimp. It’s gross and most pre-teens like gross things, so put ‘em to work. Teach them how to devein them while you’re at it. These are useful life skills, like baiting a fishing hook or shot gunning a beer, and will impress the girls when they’re older.They'll look like this when they're properly cleaned:

They'll look like this when you've cleaned them.

Shrimp stock

Then make a fumé with the heads, shells, water and white wine. I usually roast off the shells first to increase flavor by putting them in a hot pan for five minutes. Put everything in a pot and let it rip for half an hour. Maybe add some celery ends and onion skins. Strain it in a mesh colander, pressing the shells and heads to get all the good stuff out. Keep hot in a saucepan.

Flour and Oil

Now for the roux. You got two choices: Alton Brown’s excellent, but wussified in-the-oven technique (Quoth Good Eats: “Place the vegetable oil and flour into a 5 to 6-quart cast iron Dutch oven and whisk together to combine. Place on the middle shelf of the oven, uncovered, and bake for 1 1/2 hours, whisking 2 to 3 times throughout the cooking process.” ); or the way Marie would make it. In a heavy-bottomed dutch oven, heat the oil on medium flame. Whisk in flour. Turn down low. Stir with a wooden spoon until it reaches a peanut-butter color—about half an hour. DO NOT RUSH! This is labor intensive, and I’d say you could enlist the boys, but that stuff gets wicked hot. So make your husband do it. See if you can get him to adopt a Cajun accent while he’s doing it.

Too light!

Just right

Too dark!

Once you’ve got the roux where you want it, time for the Trinity. Add the onions. Stir until they release their juices and turn translucent. Add celery and bell pepper, let cook for a few minutes, then add the garlic. 

Sweating the vegetables in the roux

Turn the heat up and add the stock. Whisk until everything incorporates and add spices, Worcestershire and Tabasco. Simmer uncovered for 45 minutes.. Add shrimp, stir, take off heat, cover and let sit for ten minutes. Check to see if the shrimp are done, and stir in filé, which thickens the gumbo a bit. The consistency should be thick enough to coat the back of a spoon, like a gravy.

Tuck in the shrimp and cover

Add stock

Serve over steamed white rice. Sprinkle chopped green onions on top. Pass Tabasco and extra filé at table. Some crusty bread would be good. Maybe a little salad just to make yourself feel better about the high-calorie gumbo that you just fed the boys. Watch in amazement as your family scarfs it all down and suddenly decide they want to go fishing.

Ginuwine Guff Coast Gumbo

NOTE: You can add shucked oysters and picked crabmeat to this if you’re feeling particularly well-off. Just be careful not to overcook.