Two Yummy Gumbo Recipes in Honor of National Gumbo Day

Last Friday was #NationalGumboDay, a food that’s featured prominently in my book Under the Cajun Moon. To celebrate, I decided to share a bit about that book and pass along two great recipes for gumbo—one that’s easy and quick and one that’s more complicated but well worth the trouble.

Food in Fiction

One of my favorite reviews I’ve ever gotten was this one from Publisher’s Weekly for Under the Cajun Moon:

“…a delicious recipe of intrigue, romance and intelligent character development…Clark's story line is full of spice and lingers with an unexpected bite familiar to Cajun cuisine lovers. This text is sumptuous.”

The review was cleverly worded, because much of the novel is set amid the New Orleans restaurant world and deals with Louisiana cuisine, especially gumbo. In fact, in the story, concealed in what seems like an ordinary gumbo recipe are clues to the whereabouts of a hidden treasure! 

Gumbo as Character Development

In the novel, Gumbo also serves as a symbol of the troubled relationship between the main character, Chloe, and her demanding and distant father, as shown in this excerpt:

“Don’t you know how to make gumbo?” Travis asked.

I shrugged, not explaining about my one disastrous experience at gumbo when I was sixteen years old. My father had taken a rare day off from work and we were both at home, so in yet another desperate attempt to get his attention, I had had the brilliant idea of asking him to teach me how to cook.

Much to my delight, he was pleased with my request at first, eagerly gathering the ingredients from the kitchen cabinets and describing for me the origins of gumbo and the infinite number of variations that people had managed to create over the years. His version started with a roux and ended with filé, he said, though many folks believed you didn’t need filé if you had a roux.

He prattled on and on, and though I didn’t care much about the specifics, I remember beaming in the glow of my father’s undivided attention. With him watching over my shoulder, I stood at the stove and stirred the flour into the oil exactly as he directed.

“The trick is to keep stirring and stirring and watching and watching as it changes colors,” he said.

Sure enough, the longer I stood there and stirred, the mixture began to change from a light brown he called “béchamel sauce” to a darker one he deemed “sauce piquant.” As it slowly grew even darker, I thought the mixture might burn, but he assured me that as long as I kept stirring we could push it to the very limits, to that precise dark brown moment that waited between “not quite enough” and “disaster.”

Unfortunately, the phone rang as we were coming into the home stretch. He answered it, motioning for me to keep stirring. My arm was getting tired, though, so when he ducked around the corner to talk, I took a moment to shake out my arm and switch the spoon to my other hand. That one didn’t work as well for stirring, though, so I switched back, accidentally dropping the spoon in the process.

Mortified, I wiped up the globby mess from the front of the stove and the floor as quickly as I could, knowing that that sort of clutziness in his restaurant could get a person fired. Hiding the dirty paper towels in the trash and the spoon in the sink, I ran to get a new, clean spoon from the drawer. I made it back to the stove, spoon in hand, just before my father hung up the phone and returned to the room.

I thought I had gotten away with it, but the moment he came around the corner, he screamed. Apparently, in the few seconds it had taken me to clean up my mess, my lack of stirring had caused the roux to burn.

My father went into a rage so extreme that one would have thought I had burned the house down. He took over then, pushing me away from the smoking pan as he banged and clanged and continued to yell. By the time his tirade had run his course, I was still there in a corner of the kitchen, determined to make things right.

“Can we still make gumbo, Daddy?” I asked softly, trying not to cry.

At that, he turned to me and gave me his most withering glare. “You burned the roux, Chloe. There’s no going any further when you burn a roux.”

All these years later, I could still feel the sting of that moment, of standing there alone after he stormed out, our happy time together having gone up in smoke.

If the above scene makes you sad, not to worry: In the final chapter of the book, Chloe takes another crack at learning how to make gumbo, this time with a far kinder teacher, and she ends up with much happier—not to mention far more romantic—results. (Sorry, I can’t include that excerpt here or it’ll give away the ending of the story!)

Shortcut Gumbo

Here’s my own quick recipe for the gumbo I usually make, which is a bit of a cheat since it mostly comes from a box, but it really isn’t half bad…

Louisiana Gumbo

If you’re a more ambitious cook than I, you might try this recipe instead, which is the one my brother David usually uses. Considering that he’s the single best cook I’ve ever known, it’s an understatement to say that this gumbo is beyond delicious.

Tough Job, But Somebody’s Gotta Do It

One last note, when I was researching Under the Cajun Moon, my husband, John, and I got to take a culinary tour of New Orleans. This included a lesson in making a roux as well as a yummy sample of the end product. Look closely at the photo below, which always makes me laugh: As you can see, John is far more focused on the gumbo sample than he is on the cooking lesson!

I hope you enjoyed this week’s post, and if you end up trying either recipe, I’d love to hear how it turns out in the comments below or on my Facebook page.

Bon Appetite!

5 Random (But Fascinating) Facts I Learned While Researching The Amish Quilter

Back when I was a student, I hated doing research, but years later, once I became a novelist, I found that researching was one of my favorite parts of the job. In fact, sometimes I get so immersed in it that I have to force myself to stop researching and start writing instead!

Much of what I learn along the way never makes it into my books, of course, but it’s all helpful in one way or another.  And I especially enjoy it when I run across some fascinating fact that I never knew before. I try to keep a running list of such things as I go, and it struck me the other day that it might be fun to share one such list with you.

Thus, here are five random facts I picked up while researching The Amish Quilter…

1. Women who eat dairy and animal products are about five times more likely to have twins than those who don't.  (Google it if you don't believe me, and you'll see the research!)

2. If lightening strikes a barn, the bolt can travel down the rod and spread out from the footer, striking a horse through its shoes. (Side note: I shared this fact with a friend, who replied that he actually lost a horse this way. So sad!)

3. In the 1980’s, Hmong refugees who’d settled in the Lancaster County area began working with Amish women to make quilts, and they were so good and so fast at needlework that eventually they did most of the appliquéing while the Amish women handled just the quilting. Thus, quilts bought in the Lancaster County area in the 1980s that were assumed to be “Amish made” were very likely made jointly by Amish and Hmong women. 

4. Baumkuchen is a really cool European dessert that’s made from cake batter poured, one layer at a time, onto a spit rotating near an open flame. Once a layer has browned, another layer is added, over and over again, until the cake has something like 20 layers. It takes hours to make, but it sure looks good! 

5. In the nineteen century, Russian Mennonites tended to use the same first names over and over, so much so that in an 1860-1875 list of 1,328 Russian Mennonites, there were only 54 different first names!

That’s it for me. Did you know any of these facts already? I sure didn’t!

Betsy Ross and The Amish Quilter

Before we get to what Betsy Ross has to do with The Amish Quilter, I have a fun announcement: The winner of the giveaway on my website for a "Read Now, Sleep Later" pillow is

FAITH CREECH

Congrats, Faith! 

To celebrate summer and travel, for my next prize I'll be giving away a free copy of The Amish Nanny, which is a tale of one young woman's journey to Switzerland, to faith, and ultimately to love. To enter the drawing, simply head to the home page of my website, scroll down to the Giveaway box, click on the Enter to Win button, and fill out the simple form. Good luck!

Happy Independence Day!

Considering that today is the 4th of July, I decided to share a post relating to a significant figure in American history: Betsy Ross, the woman thought to have sewn America's first flag. Ross lived in Philadelphia at the time of the American Revolution, working as an upholsterer and flagmaker, and legend has it that she created our first flag at the request of George Washington, who brought her a sketch of the proposed design in 1776.   

So what does that have to do with The Amish Quilter? Simply put, the characters in the book spend a day in Philadelphia and visit several historical sites including the home of Betsy Ross.

A Fun First Date

The Amish Quilter, which I co-wrote with Leslie Gould, features a young Amish couple, Linda Mueller and Isaac Mast. Though Linda's sheltered life has never led her beyond Lancaster County, Isaac lived for a time as an Englischer before becoming Amish and even earned a degree at an Art school in Philadelphia. Now, when he needs to go into the city on a business-related errand, he invites Linda to come with him and offers to show her some of the sights.

Sweet guy that he is, he wants Linda to have a good time on what will be their first real date, and so he decides to make their ultimate destination the Betsy Ross House. Linda is a quilter, and Isaac assumes Ross was a quilter as well, so his choice makes sense–until they get there. But more on that in a bit.

Verifying the Details

As a writer, I always like to walk through the events in a story myself when I can, just to make sure I've gotten it all correct, and this book was no exception. Once Leslie and I finished writing the chapter that features the couple's day in Philly–which includes not just sightseeing but a few other errands and a bit of sleuthing as well–we decided that a visit to the city in person was needed, just to verify all of the details we'd put into those scenes.  Leslie lives on the other side of the country, but I'm only half an hour from Philly, so the task easily fell to me. When I told my husband, John, what I needed to do, he eagerly asked to join me. He's so great that way–not to mention he loves any excuse to go sightseeing!

Thus, one a beautiful fall day last September, John and I embarked on our research trip into Philadelphia...

Into the City

We started, as Linda and Isaac do, at the Department of Vital Records, which is inside this building on 8^th Street.

As soon as we walked in the door, I knew our trip had been worth it for that moment alone. As written, the scene showed the couple simply walking into the building and heading straight for the office they needed. What Leslie and I hadn't realized, however, was that right at the entrance you have to go through an elaborate security checkpoint before you can continue inside. 

A security checkpoint was probably something Linda had never encountered before, so when I later re-wrote the scene, I was able to have a little fun with it. Here’s an excerpt from that part of the story:

Isaac held the door for me, but I stopped short as soon as we were both inside. Just ahead was a large contraption, one that nearly blocked the way. A woman in a navy blue police-type uniform sat in a tall chair next to it, staring at a mounted screen.

“It’s okay,” Isaac said softly, giving me a nudge forward. “Just put your tote on the conveyor belt and walk through.”

I started to do as he said but then hesitated, clutching the bag to my chest. “Will I get it back?”

That made the woman laugh, but not in a mean-spirited way. “Sure will, honey,” she responded, even though my question hadn’t been directed at her. “Put down the bag and then keep on going. You’ll see.”

As promised, once I’d walked through a free-standing doorframe, my bag reappeared on the other side of the contraption, still moving forward on the conveyor belt. Two policemen were standing nearby, chatting with each other, and one of them gave me a nod. I assumed that meant it was okay to take my bag back, so I did.

“What is all this?” I asked Isaac once he’d come through the doorframe as well.

“Security,” he replied, taking my elbow and steering me toward a hallway on the left. “It’s to make sure nobody comes in with a—” he paused and lowered his voice to a whisper, “gun or a bomb or whatever.” Raising his tone back to normal, he added, “This is a government building. They have to be careful.”

We came to a stop in the short hallway and turned our attention to a big sign on the wall, which explained how to proceed once we were inside the department of Vital Records, which was just ahead. 

My husband, John, reading the sign that Linda and Isaac encounter

   

A Sightseeing Adventure

Later in the chapter, once Isaac and Linda have finished the sleuthing portion of their day, they have lunch and then do the tourist thing for a while…

“So where exactly are you taking me for this little sightseeing adventure?” I asked as we exited the restaurant and began making our way down the busy street. I knew that Philadelphia held a number of important historical sights, and judging by the signs we passed at the corner, we were headed into the heart of that. “Are we going to see the Liberty Bell?”

Isaac flashed me a smile. “That’s not our final destination, but we will pass it on the way.” He didn’t elaborate, so I didn’t press him for more. Instead, I just kept walking at his side, taking in the sights and sounds and smells of this beautiful sunny day in the city. 


The Perfect Historical Attraction for a Quilter…Sort Of

 A short while later in the story, after several detours…

The National Constitution Center

Benjamin Franklin's Grave

We began walking again, and as we went, he pointed out the Liberty Bell, visible through a large plate-glass window, and then a couple of other significant historical structures, including the National Constitution Center and the US Mint. At the next block, we turned right and began moving along a less busy street this time, passing a historic Quaker Meeting House on the corner and then the grave of Benjamin Franklin, easily visible through a brick-and-wrought-iron fence.

“Where are we headed?” I asked, eager to reach our destination.

“A historical attraction I think you’ll really enjoy. There are so many in this city, it was hard to decide which one to take you to. But then it finally dawned on me…the perfect site for a quilter.” 

With that, he paused and gestured toward a modest building just ahead, one with a shady courtyard and a giant flag hanging outside. In front was a sign:  The Betsy Ross House.

“Welcome to the home of the seamstress who’s thought to have sewn America’s first flag,” he said. 

Betsy Ross's upholstery shop

For the next hour, Isaac and I explored the place, learning all about Betsy Ross. The whole house was fascinating but especially the center point of the tour, which featured a recreation of her 1700’s upholstery shop. There we listened to a historic interpreter pretending to be the woman herself, telling us all about the night George Washington showed up at her door with a request to make a flag for what would become the United States of America.

As it turned out, she hadn’t been a quilter after all but rather an upholsterer, a fact that we learned early on in the tour. Throughout the house, in fact, we spotted exactly one quilt, a simple patchwork draped over a chair in the corner of a bedroom. 

The only visible quilt in the Betsy Ross House

“I’m so happy you brought me to the perfect attraction for a quilter,” I teased Isaac as we finally emerged from the house into the afternoon sunshine. 

“Who knew?” He was grinning, but I could tell he was a little embarrassed.  

“Hey, seriously,” I said, pointing toward a pair of chairs across the courtyard under a broad sycamore tree. “I hope you know I loved that. She may not have quilted, but she did work with needle and thread and fabric. So it really was the perfect choice for me.” 

We walked over to the chairs and sat, not even noticing until we did that we were facing a circular fountain that held a trio of sculptured metal cats.

“Look. It’s Whisper!” I cried, gesturing to the black one on top. Made of iron, he was adorable, perched on a stone cylinder with his tail hanging down behind.

“Yes it is,” Isaac replied, acting as if he’d known all about it. “And that’s the real reason I brought you here, Linda, not for any quilts but to surprise you with the sculpture of Whisper in Betsy Ross’s courtyard.” 

 My Goof = His Goof

Yes, what Isaac hadn't known was that Betsy Ross hadn't been a quilter at all but was instead an upholsterer. Though he's embarrassed by his mistaken assumption, Linda assures him that she enjoyed their tour just the same.

The funny part of the story is that I'm the one who goofed! When I first wrote that scene, I just assumed Ross was a quilter, and what better place for Linda the Amish quilter to visit?  But then, once John and I took the tour and learned the truth, I was faced with a big problem.  It was too late scrap the scene entirely, so the final solution was simply to make my goof Isaac's goof as well.

What can say, sometimes our characters have to bear the brunt of our own errors!

Despite the rewrite, I think the story worked fine–and John and I did have a great time seeing the Betsy Ross House. Here are some more of our photos...

As our day drew to a close and we slowly made our way back to our car, we captured this final image of the Liberty Bell, a perfect shot to end this patriotic post. 

Happy 4th! How are you celebrating the day?