Gumbo z’Herbes with Fried Oysters

The first time I made gumbo, I remember wondering if there was such thing as a vegetarian version. Years later I learned that, yes, there is actually a tradition of a vegetarian gumbo. It’s called Gumbo z’Herbes or Green Gumbo. It’s less common than meat- and seafood-filled gumbos, but it came about as a type of gumbo to serve during Lent or specifically on Good Friday. I’d been thinking about making this while local greens are in season, and I finally did it, fittingly during Lent. This is more of a soup than thicker gumbos, and it’s filled with whatever greens you have on hand, herbs, green onions, and in this case, chopped turnips. The recipe I followed is from Crescent City Cooking by Susan Spicer, and every time I use this book I find more dishes from it that I need to try. I liked that she gilded the dish a bit with the addition of fried oysters. And, why not? You wouldn’t want to serve a gumbo that’s entirely virtuous, right? Naturally, it starts with the trinity of vegetables which includes onion, celery, and green bell peppers. And, this is where things get scandalous. I prefer just about any other possible color of bell pepper to green. Here, I used a mix of green and orange, and I don’t feel too guilty about it. Chef John Besh recommends red bell pepper for his etouffee; so I’m not alone in this. Now, for the turnips, I was hoping it wasn’t too late in the season to find some at the farmers’ market, and luck was on my side. At our Wednesday market, I found the cutest, little white, Japanese turnips grown by Animal Farm. The flavor is mild and lovely, and they were perfect for the gumbo. 

Although this is a Lenten, vegetable-based kind of gumbo, the recipe does call for chicken stock. I made some vegetable stock to use instead. To begin, you need to make a roux in a wide, heavy pan like a Dutch oven, and making roux is one of those cooking-related tasks that I really enjoy. I love watching the color slowly transform from beige to brown while stirring and stirring. For this recipe, the roux was taken to a peanut butter color. At that point, the trinity of finely chopped onion, celery, and bell pepper was added. Next, finely chopped garlic, those lovely little chopped turnips, and some chopped green onions were added and allowed to cook for about five minutes. For the greens, I used washed and torn kale leaves and spinach leaves along with the leaves from the turnips. All the greens nearly overflowed from the pan, but they cook down in no time. Once the greens were wilted, thyme leaves and file powder were added followed by the vegetable stock. The stock was added slowly, brought to a boil, and reduced to a simmer. A bouquet garni of parsley stems, a bay leaf, and thyme sprigs was added to the stock, and it was left to cook for an hour. If you’re making the fried oysters, the oyster liquor can be added, and Worcestershire sauce is suggested for seasoning as well. To make the oysters, they were first dusted with cornmeal and then quickly fried just until golden. The oysters I brought home for this were tiny, so they only cooked in the hot oil for about two minutes. The gumbo was served with white rice, the fried oysters, some extra chopped green onions, and hot sauce on the side. 

I now know that regardless of the main ingredient in a gumbo, it’s always a fun and delicious dish. The trinity cooked in a brown roux never fails, and I never get enough of liberally dousing a gumbo with Crystal hot sauce. The greens and turnips cooked to a completely tender state and took on the flavors of the herbs and aromatics. I still love a good seafood gumbo, but I think this vegetable version, with or without the oysters, deserves more attention than it gets. 

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Sara Roahen, What Are You Reading?

In March of 2008, I met Sara Roahen when I attended a class she taught at Central Market cooking school. I brought home a copy of her book, Gumbo Tales, Finding My Place at the New Orleans Table which is a collection of stories that describe that city through its wonderful food and the people who cook it. After that class, I made Sara’s recipe for Shrimp and Okra Gumbo. Sara is on the board of the Southern Foodways Alliance and is currently co-editing the SFA Community Cookbook due out in the fall from UGA Press. Her writing has appeared in Tin House, Chile Pepper, Food and Wine, Wine and Spirits, Gourmet, and Oxford American magazines, as well as Best Food Writing 2003, Cornbread Nation 2: The United States of Barbecue, and Food and Booze: A Tin House Literary Feast. I asked Sara, what are you reading?


Sara:

1. The Face On Your Plate: The Truth About Food, by Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson. This book is trying to turn me vegan, and it has come shockingly close to succeeding. Okay, that's an overstatement, but I am looking at the faces on my plates somehow differently, with more empathy, than I have in the past because of this book--and I've spent a lot of time in the past looking at and pondering and coming to terms with the faces on my plates. The author doesn't even eat honey. I think it's his writing calm that's working on me. He's logical in his radicalism. I haven't been able to eat a hunk of animal flesh with pleasure since picking the book up. Somehow sausage and bacon, as always, get a pass.

2. Madhur Jaffrey's An Invitation to Indian Cooking, because there are so many fantastic vegetarian recipes in there that suit my current mood. Also, I appreciate to the tips of my toes how well her recipes work. While I love cooking Indian food, I have no intuition for it. I need recipes.







Thank you for participating, Sara! Check back to see who answers the question next time and what other books are recommended.


Previous WAYR posts:
Jaden Hair
Michael Ruhlman
Monica Bhide
Michael Natkin


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Shrimp and Okra Gumbo

We started a new fall CSA subscription with Hands of the Earth farm last week. Our first pick up included lots of greens: tender, baby salad greens, small leaf braising greens, broccoli greens, and collards. Also, there were big, crunchy red radishes, serranos, green peppers, and red okra. Those last two items jumped up and shouted ‘make some gumbo.’

I need to explain how I came upon the recipe I used. In March, we attended a cooking class offered by Sara Roahen. We had some really outstanding food that night like oyster artichoke soup, stuffed mirliton, crab salad, and bread pudding with bourbon creme anglaise, and we learned a lot about preparing it all in classic New Orleans style. Her book, Gumbo Tales: Finding My Place at the New Orleans Table, is a collection of stories that highlight the city and the food and the people who cook it and love it. She wasn’t born in New Orleans, but she’s clearly come to regard the city and its surroundings with great affection. The stories mostly convey a pre-Katrina view but also note how things stood at the time of writing after the storm. Sadly, many of the restaurants she mentions had not re-opened when the book was published.

The first chapter is devoted to Gumbo in all its glorious, confusing, and infinite incarnations. Roahen describes how she came to understand gumbo by tasting several versions and forming a classification system of her own. One of her categories is Big Mama gumbo which she explains includes “everything but the kitchen sink.” In general, gumbos may be grouped by the thickener used in making them such as roux, okra, or file. Or, they may be categorized by the type of meat(s), type of sausage (if sausage is included), or type of fat used in making them. The only real constant in a gumbo is that it’s served with rice. There’s much more to be learned at southerngumbotrail.com.

I followed the recipe she provided at the class, and putting it all together is an event in itself. Visit Sara Roahen’s web site to read her blog, and you can ask her for this exact recipe if you’d like. We started by cleaning the shrimp and using the shells for stock the night before. The good news about shellfish stock is that it only simmers for 20 minutes. The next day, the vegetables were prepped and everything was put in place so my focus could remain on the roux. You do have to stir the roux continuously for at least 30 minutes. In truth, I got a little scared of it. I kept thinking, let it go a little darker, no wait, it could burn, stop it now. Stop thinking, keep stirring. The chopped green pepper, onion, celery, and garlic are added to the roux when it achieves the desired color. Then, that mixture is whisked into simmering shellfish stock. The cooked okra is added back to the pot with bay leaves, and it all simmers together for an hour and a half. Yes, it takes some time and patience to achieve a gumbo, but a lot of it is inactive, simmer time.

Roahen claims that something uncertain happens when gumbo ingredients spend that time together in the pot, and now I understand what she means. You already know what all those things taste like individually, but once they’ve formed a union, there’s some transformation that makes it into gumbo. The shrimp joins the simmering party just a few minutes before serving, and you should time the rice cooking by counting back from serving time.

Gumbo has a beautifully obscure look and transcendent taste of its own and a history that is equally complex. Now that I’ve got a first try under my belt, I’m ready to attempt other variations. I’ll be less timid with the roux color next time, and I’ll add even more cayenne at the end. Maybe I’ll try a duck version or add some file. The options are endless, and the flavor is always uniquely divine.

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