Gumbo is not a rich man's dish. It's not even a poor man's dish to be honest. Gumbo, is straight up, without a doubt, a dish for the family. This communal entity couldn't be anything other than a dish for the people. (We'll temporarily ignore the fact that gumbo was very likely a meal that was created from scraps left from a less than benevolent owner/master/community - if you get my drift). When you add up all the ingredients needed to produce a truly delectable pot, you are guaranteed to spend a fair amount. Granted, "fair amount" varies depending on one's income, but baseline costs do not match that of a spaghetti bolognese recipe. According to Gallup, "those with incomes of $75,000 or more per year are averaging $180 per week, compared with $144 for those with incomes of $30,000 to $74,999." Spending upwards of $75 for one meal...that *you* have to do the work for, is not in budget for the average American family.
Sure, gumbo, like fine wine, is made to get better with time. But, if you're anything like my family, you're lucky if the gumbo makes it to day 3. (Damn them heathens and their bigazz to-go-containers.) So yes, to make enough for a family to last a few days, it's a huge communal effort of epic proportions.
Picture it. A family. A large fictional family lives near a bayou. No. Lives near the woods. (Just go with it, I'm creating a mood here.) It's the middle of the summer. A Louisiana backdrop. The children are hungry. The adults are hungry. Everybody's hungry. Two days ago someone mentioned gumbo and ever since, the house has had dreams of succulent ingredients seasoning a pot of delicious broth.
The children are all sent out to gather ingredients to add to this imagined pot. It must feed the family for days. One person is sent to find crabs; the cleverest and sharpest kids of the bunch are tasked with this effort. Quick and nimble they are. Another is sent to get sausage. Yet another is off to the store for a thickening agent, most-likely cornmeal or flour. And yet another finds okra that's in season. As they return, one by one, they toss it in a humongous pot, a pot that was likely a source of great fear for the youngest child who was teased with tales of witches boiling misbehaving children in the pot. (I've got an avid imagination.)
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| I was hungry when I wrote this. |
Some of this is anthropologically sound and historically fact; the rest of this conjuring shall live in the realm of folklore because a good story is a good story - especially when it involves food.
Every culture has some version of "throw-it-in-a-pot-and-add-water" food. How can a culture not? But those who fall at the bottom make do. I type this words with a reverence for their/our creativity and ingenuity. I'm one of 6 so feeding a large family when options are limited, is a laudable undertaking that I respect. That's what gumbo is. A dish intended for the family. A dish that requires contribution from everyone.
All that to say, when someone is cooking for you, don't be an asshole. Help cut a veg, clean a dish, or purchase an herb or two. Food is love. Also, iPhones have a new "meal" emoji that looks kinda like gumbo so ... there's always that.