Gumbo
If you’ve ever made a true Cajun gumbo, you know the magic starts in that first hour — standing over the stove, whisk in hand, patiently coaxing a dark, nutty roux into existence. It’s not a quick dinner kind of night, but it’s the kind of dish that rewards your time tenfold. The kind that makes the whole kitchen smell like a cozy Louisiana kitchen — smoky, rich, and soulful. This is the gumbo I crave when the weather turns or when I want to feed a crowd something that feels like a hug. It’s a little work, a little patience, and a whole lot of flavor.
Gumbo
A Cajun classic that I love making once the weather cools off
Ingredients
- 1 heaping cup flour
- 2/3 c oil
- 1 bunch of celery, diced
- 1 green bell pepper, diced
- 1 yellow onion, diced
- 1 bunch of green onions, finely chopped
- 1 bunch of italian parsley, chopped
- 2-3 cloves of garlic, minced
- 2 T cajun seasoning (I prefer Slap Ya Mama)
- 6-8 cups of chicken broth
- 12 oz andouille sausage, sliced
- 2-3 chicken thighs, diced
- 2 c (16 oz) shrimp
- cooked white rice
Instructions
- Make the roux on medium low heat in a medium-sized pot, stirring constantly until it becomes the color of melted chocolate. Remove from heat.
- In your dutch over over medium heat, brown the sausage coins and diced chicken thighs, then remove onto a separate plate. Add 1/2 c chicken broth to deglaze the pan.
- Sauté celery, bell pepper, and onion for ~7 minutes until softened. Add garlic and sauté for an additional 1-2 minutes, then add your green onion, parsley, cajun seasoning, roux, and remaining 5.5 cups of chicken broth, stir well
- Bring to a boil, then let simmer for 1 to 1.5 hours. Add seafood when you're five minutes away from serving
- Serve over white rice
The nutrition information is based on estimates and is not definitive.
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Let’s be honest: gumbo isn’t something you just “throw together.” It’s a labor of love, and every minute you spend over that pot is worth it. This is a classically Cajun gumbo — not the quick, weeknight kind, but the kind you stir with intention, the one that teaches you patience and rewards you with the kind of depth only a real roux can give.
The roux is the heart of gumbo. It’s what gives it that deep color, nutty flavor, and silky texture. You start with 1/3 c more flour than oil, and then… you stir. And stir. And stir. For about an hour. Don’t rush it. Put on some good music, pour a drink, and settle in. The goal is a dark chocolate-colored roux — one shade lighter than burnt. Once you hit that color, you’ll know it. The aroma alone will make you feel like you’re in the heart of Cajun country.
Next comes what’s known as the Cajun trinity: onion, bell pepper, and celery. These three are the soul of most Louisiana cooking, and when they hit that hot roux, it’s magic. They’ll sizzle, soften, and soak up all that deep flavor. I like to add garlic, green onions, and parsley too — it builds layers of brightness that balance the roux’s richness.
From here, you can take the protein in any direction you want. Traditionally, I go with chicken thighs, andouille sausage, and shrimp. The chicken gives body, the sausage gives smoke and spice, and the seafood brings that coastal flavor that ties it all together. But if I’m feeling a little fancy, I’ll swap the shrimp for crab — it adds a subtle sweetness that’s hard to beat.
The base of the gumbo is simple but crucial: chicken broth. Homemade is best if you have it, but don’t stress — good-quality store-bought broth will still make something wonderful. Once your broth goes in, it’s all about the simmer. Low and slow is the name of the game here. Let it bubble gently for at least an hour so the flavors can meld into that signature deep, savory richness.
When it comes to seasoning, I keep it classic with Slap Ya Mama Cajun seasoning. (No shade to Tony’s, but I find Slap Ya Mama to be less salty, which gives you more control.) From there, taste and adjust — I usually add a little extra salt, garlic powder, onion powder, white pepper, and a touch of MSG if it needs a boost. It’s all about balance. You want spicy, savory, and full-bodied flavor that makes you want to dip your spoon back in before it even cools down.
Important note: if you’re adding seafood, wait until the very end! Toss in your shrimp or crab about five minutes before you’re ready to serve — just long enough for them to cook through without overdoing it.
Once your gumbo is ready, serve it over a scoop of warm white rice and sprinkle a few extra green onions on top. That first bite will remind you exactly why you spent an hour over that roux — it’s rich, soulful, smoky, and layered with everything you love about Cajun cooking.
It’s a dish that tastes like tradition — the kind you make on a Sunday afternoon, when the house is quiet and you have time to slow down. Gumbo isn’t just food; it’s an experience. Every time I make it, I’m reminded that some of the best things in life take time — and this one is always worth the wait.
So grab your whisk, queue up your playlist, and make a roux. You’ll thank me later.
