To ring in the New Year—or more accurately, to wring the neck of the old one—I decided to make some fast 'n' dirty gumbo with the help of my new best friend: Margaret Holmes brand canned tomatoes, okra and corn. It's a tangy vegetable blend that makes a great meal served as-is over rice, but that wasn't good enough for me. To make it officially gumbo, I thought I would add the missing ingredient: a roux.
I've tried to make the flour-shortening base before, typically ending up with a compound somewhere between chicken gravy and grout. But 30 solid minutes of stirring resulted in my most successful roux to date. It wasn't quite as brown as the Joy of Cooking instructed, but still respectably dirty-blond with the requisite nutty aroma. I prepared to bask in the adoration of my guests and to address everyone as "cher."
Instead, when I added it to the Margaret Holmes stewpot, it coated every stray wisp of tomato, okra and corn with a gummy film. Another 45 minutes of cooking helped, as did a hasty intervention by Mrs. Pink and the Green Fairy with fistfuls of Tony Chachere, sea salt, some Rendezvous rib seasoning, a Meyer lemon and a dousing of Trader Joe's pepper sauce. But it still wasn't the Cajun jamboree I had envisioned.
I've tried to isolate the exact moment when the dish went wrong. You make the call:
6:03 p.m.: Mr. Pink sees that roux recipe calls for vegetable oil, decides an olive is close enough to a vegetable, uses olive oil instead.
6:30 p.m.: With guests due to arrive instantly, Mr. Pink makes a judgment call on the color of the roux. The recipe calls for "dark reddish-brown." Mr. Pink decides that is really a synonym for "khaki." Into the pot it goes.
6:31 p.m.: Scalding roux causes the stewpot contents to sizzle menacingly. Mr. Pink has never before heard okra hiss.
6:32 p.m.: This sure seems like a lot of roux to apply to a few cans of okra. Mr. Pink realizes somewhat belatedly he neglected to consult the recipe to see how much gumbo it actually makes.
6:34 p.m.: Wooden spoon stands upright in gumbo. A tasting reminds Mr. Pink of the time in third grade he tried to eat a salt map.
6:35 p.m.: Mr. Pink makes his first sound decision of the night and helps himself to a bourbon slush. Then he has another.
7:01 p.m.: Hey, wasn't Mr. Pink cooking some gumbo?
7:02 p.m.: Mr. Pink thinks those specks of burned flour will pass for pepper.
And so on. The one party who remains blameless in this affair, besides me, is Margaret Holmes. The Melrose Kroger now carries a full line of Holmes soul-food staples: as a result, my New Year's feast will consist of some Margaret Holmes hoppin' john with a side of Margaret Holmes collard greens.
As for the New Year, I've made only one resolution, and it'll be easy to keep. Hint: It involves roux.
