Plaisirs de Gumbo


In the first week of January, you can almost believe that the months stretching ahead form a vast tabula rasa upon which you can work your will, pretzeling big slabs of time into a whimsical, multi-colored balloon animal to display proudly on the mantel as the year winds down into an anecdotal retrospective, gently lit by Rembrandt or an extra round of eggnog.

If you protest this view as delusional, you, as a card-carrying realist, may still be rapidly persuaded that it's a relatively harmless conceit, and that it may even have positive psychological advantages. This is the perfect moment to start making the gumbo---going from the willing suspension of disbelief to the willing suspension of White Lily flour in lightly simmering oil. Get out the cast iron pot and put on the right music, 'cos you're going to be stirring for one solid hour to make a roux worthy to be the foundation of this wond'rous alchemical edifice.

Instead of just stirring, you slide your wooden spoon along the bottom of the pot in the swooping patterns of a graceful skater. Figure eights, Celtic loops, and snakey wobbles alternate on the surface of the slowly darkening roux until a powerfully evocative smell begins to rise into the room. Strangely enough, this aroma can be described as not only delectable, but somehow crunchy, possessing a solidity not usually associated with vapors. After about an hour, already intoxicated, you dump a big bowl of chopped onion, bell pepper, and celery into the dark brown liquid, and a huge cloud of succulent steam leaps from the pot, instantly incorporating all the best elements of the venerable roux with the dewy vigor of the suddenly precocious vegetables.

From there, you're on your own, as there are as many potential gumbos as there are gumbo-stirrers. Chicken, sausage, all manner of seafood -- perhaps even some okra, the veggie that gave its West African, specifically Bantu, name to this glorious stew. Any path can lead to culinary triumph.

As to suggested musical format, I'd start with a CD player with at least 5
disc random shuffle-- in spite of mp3 and ipod, still a very satisfying techno-artifact. Nothing will infuse your personal gumbo strut with inter-dimensional powers like the music of New Orleans and environs. Five albums that would be a good point of departure:

1. Crawfish Fiesta--- Professor Longhair ---Alligator records
2. Anutha Zone--- Dr. John
3. Wild Tchapitoulas Featuring the Neville Brothers ---Island records
4. Crazyhorse Mongoose ---Galactic
5. Boozoo Chavis--- Nonesuch records

If you've never heard all this New Orleanian/Cajun/bayou/voodoo music, it will make an indelible impression. You will become a much more positively funky human. Enjoy!

Hey now, my time's up --- see ya on the full moon...