Chicken and Sausage Jambalaya

Marcus started his senior year of high school on Monday, and I stood at the kitchen counter at six in the morning packing his lunch like I have packed his lunch every school day since he was five years old, and the thought came to me unbidden: this is the last first day. The last time I will pack a lunch for a child going to high school. After this year he goes to Tuskegee and packs his own lunch and eats cafeteria food and calls me when he is hungry, which will be always, because Marcus is always hungry and college cafeterias are not built by women who love the people eating the food.

I packed him a turkey sandwich on wheat with mustard and lettuce, an apple, two cookies I baked Sunday night, and a note that said I am proud of you, which I have put in every first-day lunch since kindergarten and which he pretends not to read but which I know he reads because Destiny told me he keeps them in a box in his closet. My son keeps my notes. My son keeps my notes in a box. I am going to sit with that knowledge for a while and let it fill me up like a meal I did not know I was hungry for.

The church calendar is starting to pick up for fall. Calvin is planning the revival for October, which means my kitchen will be busy again — four nights of preaching, four nights of feeding. I have started thinking about the menu, which is my form of planning and also my form of prayer. When I stand at the kitchen counter and write out what I will cook, I am writing a letter to every person who will eat it: I am thinking about you. I am preparing for you. You will not be hungry on my watch.

Made a big batch of chicken and sausage jambalaya Wednesday night because the weather turned cloudy and something about clouds makes me want rice and spice. I use andouille sausage, chicken thighs, the trinity of onion, celery, and bell pepper, and enough cayenne to wake up your ancestors. Calvin said it was spicy. I said it was seasoned. We have this debate regularly and I win it every time because I am the one holding the cayenne.

Destiny called from UAB on Thursday sounding more like herself than she has all summer. The internship wore on her, I think — the weight of other people's broken families pressing on her own heart. But she is back in classes now, focused, driven. She asked me to teach her how to make Mama's cornbread next time she is home. I said baby, that recipe is in your blood. You just have not listened to it yet. She laughed. She will learn. The kitchen teaches when the student is ready, and Destiny is getting ready.

That jambalaya I mentioned — the one that settled the week and started the debate Calvin will never win — is exactly the kind of cooking that reminds me why the kitchen matters: it feeds the body, stirs the soul, and keeps the people you love close even when they’re far away at school finding themselves. Cloudy skies and a daughter’s laugh over the phone called for something deep and warming, something with a little fire to it. Here’s how I made it.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 10 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1-inch pieces
12 oz andouille sausage, sliced into 1/4-inch rounds
2 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt, plus more to taste
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 large yellow onion, diced
3 stalks celery, diced
1 green bell pepper, diced
5 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, with juices
2 1/2 cups long-grain white rice, uncooked
4 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 cup water
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 teaspoon dried oregano
3/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or more — you know your people)
2 bay leaves
3 green onions, sliced, for serving

Instructions

Season and brown the chicken. Pat chicken pieces dry and season with salt, pepper, and smoked paprika. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Brown the chicken in batches, about 3 minutes per side. Transfer to a plate — it does not need to cook through yet.
Brown the sausage. Add sausage to the same pot and cook over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until the edges are nicely browned, about 4 minutes. Transfer to the plate with the chicken.
Build the trinity. Add the remaining tablespoon of oil to the pot and reduce heat to medium. Add onion, celery, and bell pepper. Cook, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot, until the vegetables are softened, about 7 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more.
Add tomatoes and toast the rice. Stir in the diced tomatoes with their juices. Add the uncooked rice and stir to coat it in the vegetables and oil. Let it toast for 1 to 2 minutes, stirring frequently — this step builds flavor in the bottom of the pot.
Add liquid and seasonings. Pour in the chicken broth, water, and Worcestershire sauce. Stir in the thyme, oregano, cayenne, and bay leaves. Taste the liquid and adjust salt as needed. It should taste seasoned — not shy.
Return meat and simmer. Nestle the browned chicken and sausage back into the pot, tucking them into the rice mixture. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce heat to low. Cover tightly and cook for 25 to 30 minutes, until the rice has absorbed the liquid and is fully cooked. Do not lift the lid early.
Rest and fluff. Remove from heat and let the pot rest, still covered, for 5 minutes. Remove bay leaves, fluff gently with a large spoon, and taste once more for seasoning. Top with sliced green onions and serve straight from the pot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chicken and Sausage Jambalaya — The Cloudy-Wednesday Pot That Wakes Up Your Ancestors and Wins Every Seasoning Debate in the Parsonage