IT TAKES courage to make a gumbo, and you’ve got to rustle up plenty more qualities along the way to achieve a successful end result. But like any character-building exercise, your experience and wisdom deepens with every step, until you reach a profound sense of satisfaction by the end of the process. A simmering pot of contentment is your reward, and the knowledge that you made this nurturing goodness from the humblest of ingredients and your own ability. It is literally and figuratively a pot full of flavor that can feed your loved ones for days and that’s just brimming with all the courage, mindfulness, and love you put into it.
It all starts with preparation—you must gather all the ingredients and prep them: chop the vegetables, clean the seafood, and sauté the meats and sausages. When done in an orderly fashion, this preparation simplifies the steps to come. It eliminates the chaos and fear. With practice and focus, you quickly learn you were more afraid of the fear itself than the task at hand.
Next is the queen bee—the roux! Making a roux simply requires a little focus and paying attention, seasoned with faith—you have to shake off the doubt and believe in yourself before diving headfirst into the perseverance part, which keeps you doing what you have to do, stirring long after your arm has gone numb from pain. Then there’s the listening, where you tune in to your wisdom and experience to take the roux just to the edge of burning before you toss in the vegetables. Next is the easy follow-directions part, where you do what you’re told to do: you add the stock, along with the rest of the ingredients and seasonings, and mix it all together. Then comes the hard part for lots of us: you let it go. You leave it alone, letting it simmer, with an occasional stir. You get out of the way. You trust the age-old cooking process and let the magic happen.
Then some discernment is employed to determine when the gumbo is “just right.” You do some tweaking, adjusting the seasoning here or adding a little more stock there. And finally comes the giving: you serve it up and joyfully share your heart love with a humble pot of peasant fish stew. Following that is acceptance: you accept all the appreciation that flies your way serenaded by all the oooohs, ahhhhs, and groans of delicious delight coming from your guests. Now it’s time for the rest part: you take off your apron and let others help clean up. And last, your heart swells with gratitude as you enjoy the feeling of family and a job well done.