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HOW TO PREP
Heat oil over medium-high heat in a large, heavy-bottomed pot. Whisk in flour and continue
to stir constantly — either with a whisk or a wooden spoon — until roux turns a deep, dark
chocolate brown (or another shade of your liking). This should take around 30 minutes. If you
sense that your roux is in danger of burning, reduce heat immediately and continue to stir.
Once roux has reached desired shade, carefully stir in onions, bell pepper and celery, and continue
to stir about 5 minutes, until vegetables begin to wilt. (Be prepared: when cold vegetables hit
hot roux, they emit a cloud of steam and a loud hissing.) Add salt, cayenne, and sausage, and
continue to cook about 5 minutes.
Add bay leaves and stock, and bring to a boil over high
heat. Reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, for an hour,
stirring occasionally to prevent burning. Skim off any
fat that rises to the surface. Add turkey and continue to
simmer uncovered for 2 hours.
Add black pepper and taste; adjust seasoning. Thin out
with more stock or water if necessary. Just before serving,
add parsley, green onions, and lemon juice. In order to
properly incorporate filé powder, mix it first with a few
tablespoons of stock; stir to a smooth consistency and then
add to gumbo.
Serve with white rice, and potato salad if desired.
Turkey Stock
Cut or break carcass into smaller pieces and place in a large
stock pot. Add vegetables, thyme, bay leaves, peppercorns,
and water. Place pot over high heat and bring to a boil.
Reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, for about two hours.
Skim off any foam that rises to the surface.
Drain stock, reserving liquid. Once solids have cooled to
a manageable temperature, pick through and reserve any
turkey meat that has fallen off the bones. See that no turkey
meat remains on the carcass. Set meat aside for gumbo.
O
ne Thanksgiving, which arrived a long month and a half
after my reluctant Hurricane Katrina-related departure
from New Orleans, I resolved to kick my homesickness by
injecting a new tradition into my Wisconsin family’s holiday
feasting: turkey bone gumbo. I imported Louisiana andouille, and
I used Louisiana bay leaves, which are fresher and mellower than
the ones sold in small jars in most grocery store spice aisles. I also
made a potato salad with green onion mayonnaise from
Chef Paul
Prudhomme’s Louisiana Kitchen,
which my husband, Matt, and I like
to eat
in
our gumbo. Many Louisianians approve of this pairing, and
so did many in our Wisconsin crowd. So much so that the following
year we held our second-annual Roahen turkey bone gumbo dinner.
Thirty people attended. Only one complained openly about my
liberal use of cayenne.
Cold weather can induce a hankering for turkey bone gumbo at
inconvenient, non-holiday times, which necessitates roasting a
Sara Roahen is a food writer and
author of The Gumbo Tales: Finding
My Place at the New Orleans
Table, which is available at local
bookstores and Amazon.
About the Writer
Leftover Turkey Gumbo
by
Sara Roahen +
photo by
Denny Culbert
RECIPE,
try me!
Sara
’
s Gumbo
WHAT YOU WILL NEED
1 cup vegetable oil
1¼ cups flour
1½ cups chopped yellow onion
1 cup chopped green pepper
1 cup chopped celery
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cayenne
1 pound andouille or other smoked
sausage, diced into ¼-inch cubes
3 to 4 bay leaves
6 cups turkey stock
Reserved turkey meat from making stock
2 to 3 cups chopped leftover turkey meat
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
¼ cup chopped parsley
¼ cup chopped green onion tops
½ tablespoon filé powder
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
Turkey Stock
1 turkey carcass
2 yellow onions, chopped
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
4 celery stalks, chopped
4 cloves garlic, peeled
4 sprigs thyme
2 to 4 bay leaves
1 tablespoon black peppercorns
1 gallon water, or enough to cover carcass
turkey primarily for its carcass. But usually turkey bone gumbo is
something of an afterthought: what one cooks in order to make good
use of the entire Thanksgiving bird once it has become carnage.The
same method could be — and is in Louisiana — applied to any fowl
or game. One of the most exhilarating gumbos I
’
ve tasted came
from the pot of my friend and food enthusiast Brooks Hamaker, a
Louisiana native. If ever I doubted his claims of being a huntsman,
he earned my respect with the feather that I pulled from my teeth
while enjoying his deep, dark Mardi Gras duck gumbo one year.
It
’
s amazing how much meat falls off the most meticulously carved
turkey carcass after two hours in a simmering stock pot. And the
stock produced is so flavorful that turkey bone gumbo requires little
more than a robust roux, some seasoning vegetables, and ample salt
and pepper. I like to brighten it up with filé powder and lemon juice
just before serving, though both additions are optional.
