Chicken and Andouille Gumbo

New Year's week. The tree is still up — we always leave it until after the new year — and the house has that particular post-Christmas exhale, quieter and somehow larger than it was a week ago. The kids are sleeping in. Gary went back to work Thursday. I've been spending the mornings in the kitchen, which is where I do my best thinking.

I made a big pot of black-eyed peas on New Year's Day. Southern tradition for luck, though Gary grew up in California and thinks I made this up. I didn't make it up. My grandmother from Tennessee made it every January 1st without fail and I've carried it forward. Peas simmered with smoked ham hock, onion, garlic, a bay leaf. Served over rice with cornbread on the side. The kids are skeptical every year and eat it anyway, which is its own kind of luck.

The channel ended the year with just over 22,000 subscribers — a number that means almost nothing to me emotionally but that several people have told me is extraordinary for four months of posting. I made a year-end video: not a recipe, just a thank-you and a reflection. I talked about why I started, what I hoped people were getting out of the videos, what I was learning from making them. It's the most views any video got in its first week.

People want to know the person behind the kitchen. I'm learning to let them see her — carefully, selectively, genuinely. There's an art to that. I'm still figuring it out.

It's 2019. Let's see what it holds.

After spending New Year’s Day stirring a pot of black-eyed peas and thinking about my grandmother, I found myself still craving that same deep, slow-cooked Southern warmth a few days into the week — the kind that fills a quiet house and makes it feel less empty. Gumbo felt like the natural next step: another dish that comes from the same place those peas do, built on patience and a good roux and the kind of smoked meat that makes everything taste like it means something. It’s the sort of recipe that rewards the unhurried morning, and this week, I had plenty of those.

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 1 hr 15 min | Total Time: 1 hr 40 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 large yellow onion, diced
1 green bell pepper, diced
3 stalks celery, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
12 oz andouille sausage, sliced into 1/4-inch rounds
1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1-inch pieces
6 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, drained
2 teaspoons Creole or Cajun seasoning
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
2 bay leaves
1 cup frozen okra, sliced
Salt and black pepper to taste
Cooked white rice, for serving
Sliced scallions and hot sauce, for garnish

Instructions

Make the roux. In a large heavy-bottomed Dutch oven or pot, heat the oil over medium heat. Whisk in the flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 20—25 minutes until the roux turns a deep chocolate brown. Do not rush this step — a dark roux is the foundation of the gumbo’s flavor.
Build the base. Add the onion, bell pepper, and celery to the roux. Cook, stirring frequently, for 6—8 minutes until softened. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute more.
Brown the sausage. Add the andouille slices and cook for 3—4 minutes, stirring occasionally, until lightly browned and the fat begins to render.
Add the chicken and liquids. Stir in the chicken pieces, then pour in the chicken broth. Add the diced tomatoes, Creole seasoning, smoked paprika, thyme, and bay leaves. Stir to combine.
Simmer. Bring the gumbo to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Simmer uncovered for 40—45 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the chicken is cooked through and the broth has thickened.
Add the okra. Stir in the frozen okra and simmer for an additional 10 minutes. Remove bay leaves. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed.
Serve. Ladle the gumbo over cooked white rice in deep bowls. Top with sliced scallions and a dash of hot sauce if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chicken and Andouille Gumbo — When Southern Comfort Feels Like Coming Home