I have no way of knowing how authentic our gumbo is, so I don't really care. In fact, our gumbo tastes different from itself, even. All I know is our gumbo is good.
Tonight darling husband whipped up a weeknight version. He made a roux with butter, which made wonderful popcorn smells through the house. As this is New Orleans cuisine, he used trinity instead of mirepoix (onion, celery and bell pepper as opposed to onion, celery and carrot) and garlic, of course. Chicken thighs, andouille sausage, jalepeno and okra, of course. He also used seafood stock, which was a wonderful addition. From the spice cabinet came a couple of bay leaves, salt and pepper and some file powder.
It bubbled away, looking like primordial lava, but didn't thicken as much as we expected. No matter. It was more soupy than stewy, which allowed plenty of broth to drink or to be soaked up in hunks of stale baguette. Very comforting and filling. Thanks for dinner, honey!
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