How To Be a Cajun

Marrying into a Cajun family has opened my eyes to a whole new culture. I cook A LOT, but never attempted anything remotely Louisiana-ish. My mother in law makes a killer gumbo and my husband had been craving it and asked if I could try to make it. Let me say this – I can cook pretty much anything if I have a recipe. There have been a few failures (fried chicken being the most recent), but I’m usually successful. So, I hunted down an Emrill gumbo recipe and went to work. I had my chicken, sausage, and homemade stock. My veggies were chopped and prepared. I just had to make the roux.


A simple word for a process that is difficult to explain and follow. You’re not supposed to stop stirring and the flour is supposed to turn brown, but you can’t burn it. It smells AWFUL and doesn’t look appetizing either. I followed the rules though and stirred it for hours until it looked right and then I made my first mistake. I added ALL the roux to my pot with the chopped veggies. Apparently the recipe only calls for two cups and I put in at least four. I didn’t catch my mistake until I’d added all of my homemade chicken stock. Thankfully, I hadn’t put the meat in yet. I took a quick taste and gagged, so I added more stock, and tasted again. Still awful. I added water because I’d used up all of my homemade stock. Another taste and all I got was burnt flour.

The disappointment on Kel’s face made me jump in the car and buy a jar of roux and more chicken stock. Back at home I started over with the exact measurement of roux and stock. Tasted it and still awful. Kel decided that we needed to add a can of beer. I thought it was a waste of a beer, but in it went. Tasted it. Burnt flour with a hint of beer. Our next bright idea is to let it simmer. I sit down (now that I’ve spent 5 hours on the failed gumbo) and massage my claw of a hand. I glance over at the mess on the stove and watch as it foams over the top of the pot. FAB U LOUS.

I turn off the heat, let the whole thing cool, and put it down the disposal. Then I call Papa John’s.

After my failed attempt at gumbo, I was a little leery when Kel wanted to host a crawfish boil. I would go nowhere near those southern lobsters until they were hot and on a table. Luckily a friend offered his assistance for boiling all 100 pounds. I used my expertise in peeling tails to prep for (gasp!) etouffee. I decided not to totally give up on my grafted Cajun branches and searched for another Emrill recipe.

My hand seized up a little when I read that you needed to prepare a light roux, but relaxed after seeing that it would take just a few minutes. I added the holy trinity of veggies and sautéed, deglazed with some sherry, and threw the tails in. Added a bit of stock and seasoning and let it simmer for a few minutes. And then, the moment of truth. I took a bite, then another, and another! It was good.

So maybe I can hack this Cajun thing. Just don’t make me eat Boudin.