Tuesday morning and as Gus walked to the supply room she noticed Jake was measuring and cutting something. Which supervisors normally didn’t do. They usually just supervised people who do measure and cut. Jake rarely put is “tools on”.
What was he cutting into? As Gus walked closer to Jake, she noticed a couple of sheets of foiled insultation and a new heat light. One you might use for outside of a house before you put the brick on it.
“Whatca’ building?”
“Good morning! I’m building a solar microwave oven. Cain’t ca tell?”
“Good morning. Oh yeah. I see it now.” Lied. What th’Hell?
“Mama’s making some shrimp Gumbo today. Yeah mama! And I want mine nice and hot tomorrow for lunch.” With a big smile.
“Me too.”
Laughing about her “me too”, he continued, “See the sun will keep’er hot all day and when noon break rolls ‘round I’ll have me some of SouthWest Louisiana’s best gumbo that ever touched your lips.”
“Tater salad too?”
“Oh yeah, only the best. Loads of celery.”
As she held the large sheet for him to cut, she asked, “How does she start her rue?” SHIT! WHY did I have to ask that?
Every region in the world has it’s debated dish. Gumbo is one of ours. Bar-B-Que is the other; all over the South.
But gumbo, might get shot over. People will stop talking to you over it. It is debated all over the South Louisiania and Southeast Texas. Nothing new here. Everyone makes it different, likes it different and believes their way is the right way.
“With fresh fried fish grease. Is there any other way?” Looking up at her seriously.
Oh Shit! She knew to tippy-toe right now. Making gumbo is a sacred ritual to most folks from Louisiana and Southeast Texas. Such a religious-like institution that Cajun folks have a spiritual name for the onions, celery, and bell pepper; The Holy Trinity. No kidding.
Regardless of whose cooking the gumbo, the Holy Trinity is required to complete the wonderful dish. And everyone’s mama does it the “right way.” For the rest of the world, it’s only a recipe.
Shit, what the Hell…
“Yeah, my great aunt started hers out like that. Then she told mama to add a little bacon drippins’ to it. We use both.” Liar.
“Bacon hurts my stomach too much. You should try the fish grease alone sometimes.”
“The only way to start a good gumbo.” Liar, liar. My pants were on firrre!
He wasn’t stupid. Jake knew she was going along with his recipe. Even gave her his approving wink and then looked down at his invention.
“This is gonna work grand tomorrow for Ruby’s gumbo.”
“Looks like it’s coming together. Gotta get on over to Manny and see what he’s got going on this morning. You be careful with that the heat lamp.” Smiling at him.
“Don’t wanna make you late.”
“Gonna blame it on th’ tall handsome man from across the Sabine river, it’s what I’m gonna do.”
Then she walked as steady and straight to Manny as she could. He had their tools and was walking toward their project. She started walking beside him and the
first thing outta of his mouth was,
“What’s Boss-man building?”
“A heating box for the Gumbo he’s bringing to work tomorrow.”
Manny looked straight at her as they walked and asked her,
“You didn’t tell him how you cook Gumbo, did you?”
“Nooo, are you crazy? I know better, you do not tell a Cajun person how to cook gumbo. But I stuck my foot in my mouth and asked him how Ruby started her rue.”
Manny dropped his head down like someone just died and stopped walking then peaked up and asked, “and?”
“And I totally regretted bringing up the subject. BUT I agreed with the way she starts her and said it was the RIGHT way.”
Manny started walking again.
“Shoooe, that was close. Good girl! He will fire us all, over gumbo recipes.”
“know better than to argue with anyone from Louisiana over how to cook gumbo. There’s thick, thin, spicey, mild, dark brown, light brown, green onions, no green onions, white, yellow onions, file gumbo, okrey or no okrey or bell peppers, red, yellow or green. But my aunt Mary made the best.”
“What was hers like?”
“It was good. That’s what the grown-ups told me.”
“What? Thought you said it was good.”
‘It smelled excellent. Oh yeah. Delicious, til she spooned out the rooster claw for my daddy to eat. I didn’t eat a bite after seeing that dammed claw.”
He laughed and gave her a gentle elbow as they walked to their project and said,
“I heard of that once before. Never saw it but had a friend who swore his grandmaw did that too. Old timers. They were so poor they ate everything in the yard.”
All Gus could do was smile about it. Cause he just described her family. They ate the whole hog, pickled the feet and everything else up to the ears.