There’s a gumbo on the stove, cooking. Traditionally, cold, rainy days are called “gumbo weather” down here in south Louisiana. Gumbo, like soup just about everywhere else, is a big-time comfort food. There is nothing like coming into the house after being out in cold, rainy, windy weather and finding a big pot of gumbo simmering on the stove. A steaming hot bowl of gumbo over rice would take the chill off the bones and put a warm glow in your middle like nothing else.

Well, the temperature is in the upper 80’s today with scattered clouds, but my soul was crying for gumbo, so there it is. I did things a little different this time: instead of chicken, I’m using turkey tenderloins that I got at a good price. I was eyeing some Canada geese that have been feeding at my client’s plant. A nice couple of wild geese make a great gumbo. You see where this is heading, don’t you?

And sausage. From a place called “Rabideaux’s Sausage Kitchen” in Iowa, Louisiana. I’ve had better, but either my folks or friends had made it themselves. Rabideaux’s (pronounces like rabid-o’s. The cadence is like “Cheerios”) is good sausage. They make pork, mixed pork and beef, and mixed pork and farm-raised venison. It’s smoked pretty good for a commercial sausage. And they’ll ship, if you’re interested. Their boudin (another Cajun delicacy) has been Fed-exed to displaced Cajuns on Alaska’s north slope.

So, the gumbo is something I’ll be happy with. Like the old folks, it’s a good use of what was available. Turkey isn’t much of a leap. When I was in the Louisiana National Guard we made gumbo with whole turkeys for the November drill weekend. Of course, the Guard has really big pots and those field stoves can handle the size.

UPDATE: This was an excellent gumbo. And instead of using the rice cooker, which cooks rice to a technical perfection, I cooked the rice the old-fashioned way, on top of the stove. I intentionally left the heat on a bit long to make a little crust of brown “gratin” on the bottom of the pot, adding a surprising toasty crunchiness to the dish. A big bowl and a half later, and I wish to emulate a python who’s just swallowed a gazelle, and lay around and let this digest. Mmmmmmm! Good feeling!