By Alicia Jhonston ( A photographer , A part time chef and full time mama) Guest Post
In our family, gumbo ain’t just food. It’s history in a pot. It’s the sound of my grandmother humming “Precious Lord” while stirring the roux, the smell of onions and bell peppers warming up the whole house, and the joy of watching my babies slurp up that good brown gravy like they ain’t never eaten before. I’m a Southern Black mama born and raised in Louisiana, and every time I cook gumbo, I’m telling a story—one passed down from my grandma to my mama, and now through me.
Let me take you on a little journey—not just with a recipe, but with love, roots, and soul.
What Gumbo Means to Me
My grandmother used to say, “Gumbo is what happens when you throw your blessings in a pot.” And Lord, was she right. It’s got African, French, and Native American roots, just like our people. It’s a dish that tells the story of survival, resilience, and joy—made to stretch what little you had into something that could feed a whole family, maybe even the neighborhood.
I make gumbo the way she taught me: with patience, with care, and with purpose. It ain’t something you rush. It’s Sunday food, celebration food, and comfort food, all rolled into one big, soulful bowl.
The Kinds of Gumbo We Make
Now, baby, let me tell you—there’s all kinds of gumbo. Seafood gumbo. Chicken and sausage gumbo. Okra gumbo. File gumbo. My grandma made it all depending on what was fresh, what was in the freezer, and how many mouths she had to feed. For this recipe, I’mma share my family’s favorite: Chicken, Sausage, and Shrimp Gumbo—hearty, smoky, and thick with memories.
Grandma’s Gumbo Recipe (Serves a Big Family – 8–10)
Ingredients:
For the Roux:
- 1 cup all-purpose flour
- 1 cup vegetable oil (or bacon fat if you’re feeling bold)
For the Gumbo:
- 1 large onion, chopped
- 1 bell pepper, chopped
- 2 celery stalks, chopped
- 5 garlic cloves, minced
- 1 lb andouille sausage, sliced
- 1 lb boneless, skinless chicken thighs, chopped
- 1 lb shrimp, peeled and deveined
- 8 cups chicken stock (or a mix of chicken and seafood stock)
- 2 bay leaves
- 1 tsp dried thyme
- 1 tsp smoked paprika
- 1 tbsp Cajun seasoning (I use Tony Chachere’s or make my own)
- Salt and pepper to taste
- 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper (optional, if you like heat)
- 1 tsp Worcestershire sauce
- 1/2 cup chopped green onions
- 1/2 cup chopped parsley
- Gumbo file powder (optional)
- Cooked white rice, for serving
Step-by-Step Instructions – From My Stove to Yours
Step 1: Make the Roux (The Soul of the Gumbo)
- In a big ol’ heavy-bottomed pot (a Dutch oven is perfect), combine your flour and oil over medium heat.
- Stir constantly with a wooden spoon or whisk for 30–45 minutes. Yes, baby, it takes time. You’re looking for a rich chocolate brown, like the color of a pecan shell.
- Don’t stop stirring, and don’t walk away. Burned roux is a heartbreaker.
“Roux teaches you patience. Just like life.” – Grandma used to say that with a wink.
Step 2: Add the Holy Trinity
- Once the roux is that deep brown, toss in your chopped onion, bell pepper, and celery.
- Stir and let it soften for about 5 minutes, then add the garlic.
Step 3: Build the Flavor
- Add the sliced sausage and brown it up in the pot with the veggies.
- Stir in the chicken and cook for about 5–7 minutes until just seared (don’t worry about cooking it through yet).
- Pour in the chicken stock, add your bay leaves, thyme, Cajun seasoning, paprika, cayenne (if using), Worcestershire, salt, and pepper.
- Bring it to a boil, then reduce to a low simmer. Let it cook for 45–60 minutes, uncovered. Your house should start smelling like heaven.
Step 4: Add the Shrimp & Greens
- Toss in the shrimp and let it simmer for another 5–7 minutes, until just cooked.
- Stir in your chopped green onions and parsley.
- If using, sprinkle in some gumbo file powder (about 1 teaspoon). It thickens the gumbo and adds that earthy, bay-like flavor.
Step 5: Serve It Right
- Scoop some hot cooked rice into a bowl.
- Ladle that gumbo right over the top, making sure everyone gets a bit of everything—chicken, sausage, and shrimp.
- Garnish with extra parsley or hot sauce if you fancy.
A Pot Full of Memories
Every pot of gumbo I make, I think about my grandma. Her hands, worn but strong, stirring that roux. Her voice, telling stories about her mama making gumbo in a wood-burning stove. When I make gumbo for my children, I ain’t just feeding them—I’m passing down a story. A tradition. A piece of who we are.
So don’t just follow the recipe—feel it. Taste as you go. Add your own story.
Because gumbo, baby, is love in a pot.
