Monday Food for Thought: For the Love of Gumbo

You love gumbo.

You absolutely love it.

You love when you can get it at your favorite restaurants. You like it even better when Big Mama cooks it. She's been making it forever and it is so good. It’s free and she gives you some to take home.

But you love it best when you make it yourself. That way you put however much and whatever amount of your favorite ingredients in it. Big chunks of andouille sausage, blue or snow crabs, the BIG big shrimp, chunks of chicken, and sometimes you like the small oysters too. You can’t forget the veggies, because they are good for you. They are also good in that gumbo. Tomatoes, onions, peppers, celery, okra, and whatever else you can think of.

All simmering in a nice roux…

And you like your roux the color of a penny, reddish and coppery. Not too dark and not too light.

Put in a bowl, and spoon a dollop of rice right in the middle… ah yes, you are in HEAVEN.



No, this post isn’t the recipe for gumbo. I wrote a detailed recipe for it several years ago over here on the walls of the House of LadyLee.

But it is about gumbo. Let's continue...

What happens when you don’t tend too it just right, i.e., leave the heat up just a little too long? You know, you walk off and get caught up in something else?

You have one of those moments. You pause. You look up from whatever has your mind occupied. You scream:

“Oh lawd! I forgot about the gumbo!”

*Running hard to the kitchen*

You quickly turn the fire down. (That’s how the old folks say it). The hard bubbling has slowed to a simmer.

The gumbo looks good enough. It looks ready to eat.

But then you stick your big spoon in the pot and you commence to stirring.

And then you notice something: the stirring isn’t going well. There’s a little resistance at the bottom of the pot. It seems that some of the gumbo is stuck to the bottom.

You shreik! You burned the gumbo!!

You hold your breath. You can’t believe that you let that happen. Because all you had to do was just stand there and watch it.

And stir it.

And watch it.

And stir it some more.

But then you breathe a sigh of relief. Because you know if you carefully pour the gumbo out of that pot and into another one, then everything will be alright.

You may have lost a couple shrimp and some veggies. But that’s okay. That gumbo can be saved. The burnt part can be thrown out.

Right?

Right.

And that’s what you do. You tilt the pot just right and transfer what you can to a clean stew pot. Once you’ve done that, you look in the pot from whence you poured out the gumbo, and you were right: you burned it up. The burnt portion is barely recognizable, a black sticky mess, stuck to the bottom of the pan.

Thank goodness you caught it in time. The ingredients for the gumbo- they are expensive. What a loss to have to throw it all out.

You allow it to simmer. You do the right thing and stand there and stir it.

And watch it.

And stir it.

And watch it some more.

And stir it some more.

This time it doesn’t burn. It simmers down to the right consistency. Perfect, just like you like.

You fix yourself a big bowl. You plop a little rice right in the middle. You grab a few saltine crackers and you sit down, your mouth ready to eat and enjoy.

And that first spoonful… it tastes funny. It has that burnt taste. Not much, but enough where you can tell.

You eat another spoonful and you taste it again... that slight hint of burn. You stir the gumbo in your bowl, and you see little black flecks floating around.

You have friends coming over later. You wonder if they can tell that it is slightly burnt. Maybe you can tell because you burnt it.

And your man has been talking about it. He wants some of the gumbo too. Can't wait to taste it.

O_O

You spoon some up and and you sniff it. You smell the burn.

Ugh. The gumbo is ruined.

Or is it?


AFTERWORD

That was a nice little story about Gumbo. No real writing prompt or anything. I had just finished my morning prayers, was just laying on the couch with remote in hand, feet kicked up, flipping through channels... Oscar Tyrone was walking by me with his back arched... his little way of asking to be rubbed.

I was feeling GREAT! All I needed was a toothpick in my mouth to chew on!

Then I thought about gumbo. It just welled up in my spirit for some reason. I thought about how good it is. And how long it takes to make. And how you gotta sit there and watch it and stir.

And did I mention how good it is?

And how sometimes it gets burnt. And how you may try to salvage it.

You got to at least try! Because crabs, shrimp, oysters and sausages are EXPENSIVE.
But this little tale is not about gumbo. On the surface it may be, but not deep down.
It's about something else:

That Gumbo... it represents EMOTIONS.

And the pot... it represents the HEART.

You know, I am a woman, and like every other woman, my emotions are sometimes all over the place. For me, it's mostly hormonal. Sometimes it is not.

But these emotions, just like the ingredients in that gumbo, they are valuable. They tend to guide us. We are either keeping them in check or we allowing them to keep US in check. They can even rise up within us and have our lives going in a direction we could never imagine.

That happens a lot. Hypothetical case in point: someone cuts me off in traffic. I get pissed. I give chase. I am cussing up a storm. MAD as all get out. I catch up with that person at a red light.

I give him the finger. He flips me off. I'm really mad.

I pull out my gun and shoot him.

I am sitting in a jail cell now in my orange county jumpsuit... awaiting trial for murder.

My emotions got out of control and caused me to do something that changed the course of my life, and those around me... forever.

Terrible thang when our emotions have us on a leash like that.

Naw that ain't me. Someone cuts me off, I may mouth "That sucka must got somewhere to go." And I go on about my business.

Our emotions can have us sometimes. They truly can.

No I am talking about something a little more subtle. Our emotions leading us around on an invisible leash of sorts.

Yes, the gumbo represents emotions.

And still, the pot of gumbo represents the heart.

But, the burnt mess at the bottom of the pot represents:

EMOTIONAL BAGGAGE.

Emotional baggage. That interesting mix of emotions that's left over after we make it through a hurtful or painful situation or relationship. Usually we've entrusted someone with our emotions- our HIGHLY valuable emotions- and they have treated them like mere cheap carnival or dimestore trinkets...

...instead of the precious rare jewels that they truly are.

Yes we pull out of the situation or relationship, and make it through. But the emotional baggage- we drag it along with us. It's that residual that's left over, wrapped tight in our memory. We may have it just sitting out where everyone can see it, or we may have stuffed it deep into one of the back closets of our mind...

Waaaaay in the back.

But it inevitably comes out. It always does. Just like when a fool cut you off in traffic, and you get so heated that you shoot and kill him. It all comes out, but more subtlely... yet searing nevertheless.

Just like the gumbo that we tried to rescue, separating the burnt from the good... Oh we THINK we got it all worked out. We think we fixed it.

But when we taste it, we still taste some of that "burn".

Hmm...

I love love LOVE a man who can handle my emotions, and all the extra baggage that comes along with it. LOVED-ED it. That is rare these days. But when it happens, I am happy. No there has been nothing long term. Heck, I don't know if I see myself getting married again.

Because I have to stop asking myself those little questions...

What if Shorty mess me over like the last one?

And if I ain't careful... I start treating him like the last one.

That's that baggage talking... trying to lead me around on a leash on the sly...

Maybe some of that old baggage is blocking my view. Hmmm.

Anyway when we come across someone who can handle our emotions, we still have those residual memories of what happened in the past creep up, even though we have buried it in our hearts.

There's that personal work that we have to do. Bring out the brillo and scrub the bottom of that gumbo pot. Get all that scorch off. Shoot man, make the gumbo over!
Or we do something different. Scrape off some of the burnt blackness. Do our best to salvage the gumbo.

Hmm...

This whole scenario reminds me that I am valuable. My emotions are valuable. I need to keep a careful guard over them. Guard my heart with wisdom, and just not let any ol' situation change that what is so valuable so drastically...

...to the point where it's all beyond repair.

I need to make better choices... Surround myself with those who are able to handle my emotions, and I do the same with theirs. And when the emotions are out of wack, I need to admit it. And just do the necessary work to make things right. And don't let those emotions cause me to take things out on others unnecessarily.

They are not responsible for the burn. No they are not.

It may mean something totally different to you.

Something to think about, on a Monday, no less.

This post is dedicated to my baby sis Serenity23 and my baby biosis Kentucky. We've been in deep conversation about related matters as of late. Each is truly blessing me with the wisdom they are imparting into my heart.

And it is dedicated to myself. No I don't plan on making gumbo. Meatless gumbo, well... man, I got a recipe, but I haven't been able to wrap my mind around making it, lol. Just don't seem right without the meaty goodness!

And it's dedicated to all you other Chickens out there who can take it in and learn from it.


I took it and squeezed all the knowledge I could out of it. I am sure that is MUCH more to be said. I needed to post it as a reminder to myself when I need it.

Get it now and understand while you are young... there's always time to make the necessary changes. Take the time to scrub away your own "burn" from that pan. Salvage that "gumbo".

Keep careful watch, and take intimate care of that which is truly valuable.

Better now, harder much later.

Ohhhhh, for the love of gumbo...

Oh soooooo much more for the love of my delicate valuable emotions.



You have a good week... On purpose.