Recipe: Gumbo Z'herbes
Death at Carnival
Gumbo z'herbes by Andrew LaMar Hopkins, 2013
For our final recipe, in the week we have invited Death to the party, I asked my husband, Tyree, to write something about Gumbo z’herbes. This is a dish we learned about when we lived in New Orleans. It is traditional for Holy Week and also Ash Wednesday. Take a look at the ingredients list and you’ll see the contrast between this gumbo and the chicken and sausage gumbo from last week.
For all my complaining about other devotionals starting Lent too early, this is the kind of dish that takes time to prepare. So if you were planning on eating it for Ash Wednesday, you would have to start planning now.
Just don’t buy any of the greens today - there’s a boycott going on!
One beautiful aspect of carnival culture to me is how it welcomes outsiders. I'm not an authority on gumbo, and I didn't grow up eating it; however, if you would like to hear from someone who is and did, this episode of Your Mama's Kitchen is utterly delightful. I do love to cook, though, and I love to cook as a way to celebrate culture in particular. I believe in the truth that, “You are what you eat.” My wife and children graciously put up with my adventures in the kitchen, but they are so picky. And they are picky in different ways. And they are each vocal about their pickiness in highly articulate fashion. Setting dinner on the table at our house can feel like the finale of an Iron Chef episode.
Gumbo is like a proverb. It's a dish that's thick with meaning and rich with satisfaction on more levels than anyone would care or dare to count. Its history is America’s history. The word itself means okra, originally ki ngombo in several West African languages. It's sometimes also thickened with filé powder, otherwise known as sassafras. The Choctaw word for this ingredient is kombo, which has led some scholars to propose it as the origin of the dish’s name. I prefer to think of the situation as like floating down a river. The current is the result of multiple tributaries converging in a landscape that is changing in response to their convergence. Best to just go with the flow.
With good reason, there seems to be a lot of fuss over what is and isn't gumbo. For example, whether the presence of the eponymous pod or powder is necessary or sufficient. Neither will appear in the recipe I'm fixing to share, so go ahead and relax the hand you like to clutch your pearls with now because you’ll need it to stir the roux. It's not okra season right now anyway, and filé can clump up in unpleasant ways. The signature element of Gumbo Z'herbes is lots and lots of greens, which are in season. Legendary chef Leah Chase is said to have used 9 or 11 different types depending on who you ask, but whatever the number, it has to be odd. Gumbo Z'herbes is traditionally served on Maundy Thursday, but there is historical precedent for consuming it on Ash Wednesday, too. It's a good idea to make it a day or so ahead of time so the flavors have a chance to marry. This recipe makes about 12 servings, so have a party!
Ingredients
collard greens, mustard greens, turnip greens, kale, spinach, watercress, beet tops (gross!), carrot tops, radish tops, parsley, chicory, arugula, sorrel, dandelion greens, tarragon, any kind of lettuce, cabbage, green onions, clover, avocado leaves, epazote…
¼ C vegetable oil
¼ C flour
1 onion
1 green bell pepper
3 ribs celery
2 bay leaves
2 sprigs fresh thyme
2 whole cloves
2 allspice berries
salt, black pepper, white pepper, cayenne pepper to taste
rice for serving
Begin by washing the greens and removing any tough stems. Simmer them in a gallon of salted water in a large stockpot for about an hour with the lid on. Chop the onion, bell pepper, and celery (the Creole Trinity) now so they’ll be ready later. Strain the greens and give them a rough chop. Save that pot likker! Continue by making a roux in the same large and now empty stock pot. That means frying equal parts flour and fat, a sweet savour unto the Lord. Use a vegetable oil with a high smoke point if you’re fasting or leftover bacon grease if you’re a true player. Heat the fat over low/medium and then add the flour. The key is to stir it almost constantly so there are no clumps and nothing gets stuck to the bottom. This will take a long time, like half an hour or more. The color can be anywhere between blond and dark chocolate, just don’t burn it. Add the onion, bell pepper, and celery and sauté until the onions are translucent. Add everything else to the pot and let it simmer on low heat for at least an hour longer so you can catch up on reading all the previous The Carnival Devotional posts that you missed and still feel productive about your life as it slips through your fingers like a broken strand of Mardi Gras beads. I recommend adding a smoked ham hock if you get down like that. Serve it over rice. Some French bread on the side is also nice.
Please feel free to drop your gumbo stories into the mix in the comments section. I’ll be cooking up something based on y'all's responses as a way to end my own contemplative Carnival this year. Don't let me down!
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