Authentic New Orleans Gumbo Recipe

When I think of comfort food from Louisiana, nothing beats a bowl of authentic New Orleans gumbo simmering on the stove.

This dish brings together the deep flavors of Creole cuisine and the rustic warmth of Cajun cooking—it’s rich, hearty, and packed with history.

You’ll learn exactly how to make a true New Orleans-style gumbo that tastes like it came straight from a local kitchen.

I’ll walk you through every step of this gumbo recipe, from building a dark, flavorful roux to adding layers of spice, sausage, and seafood.

You’ll see how simple ingredients come together to create a dish that really captures the soul of New Orleans gumbo—bold, savory, and deeply satisfying.

Each spoonful tells a story of the city’s mix of cultures and flavors.

Once you try it, you’ll get why gumbo is more than just soup—it’s tradition in a bowl.

Authentic New Orleans Gumbo Recipe

I make gumbo when I want a dish that feels rich, hearty, and full of Louisiana flavor.

The right tools, ingredients, and timing matter most.

I focus on a dark roux, the holy trinity of vegetables, and layers of spice that give this meal its deep, comforting taste.

Equipment

• Large heavy pot or Dutch oven for even heat
• Wooden spoon for stirring the roux without scratching the pan
• Sharp chef’s knife and cutting board for chopping onions, celery, and bell peppers
• Measuring cups and spoons for accuracy
• Whisk for blending the roux smoothly
• Ladle for serving
• Rice cooker or saucepan to make white rice
• Small bowls to hold prepped ingredients

I keep everything close by before I start.

The roux cooks fast, and I definitely don’t want to stop stirring to grab something mid-way.

Ingredients

• ½ cup bacon drippings or oil
• ½ cup all-purpose flour
• 1 cup onions, chopped
• 1 cup celery, chopped
• 1 cup bell peppers, chopped
• 1 lb andouille sausage, sliced
• 1 lb chicken thighs, boneless and cut up
• 4 cups chicken stock
• 1 tsp dried thyme leaves
• 2 bay leaves
• 1 tsp smoked paprika
• ½ tsp cayenne pepper
• 1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
• 1 tbsp hot sauce or Tabasco
• 1 cup okra, sliced
• ½ cup stewed tomatoes or tomato sauce
• 1 tsp filé powder (ground sassafras leaves)
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• Cooked white rice for serving
• Fresh parsley and green onions for garnish

Sometimes I’ll toss in lump crabmeat or shrimp for a seafood gumbo.

Each version turns out a little different, but always feels like New Orleans.

Instructions

• Heat bacon drippings in a heavy pot. Whisk in flour and stir constantly until the roux turns dark brown.
• Add onions, celery, and bell peppers—the holy trinity—and cook until soft.
• Stir in sausage and chicken. Brown the meat for several minutes.
• Pour in chicken stock, then add bay leaves, thyme, paprika, cayenne, Worcestershire sauce, and hot sauce.
• Simmer for about 45 minutes, stirring often.
• Add okra, tomatoes, and a pinch of salt and pepper. Let the gumbo thicken as it cooks.
• Remove from heat and stir in filé powder for flavor and a little extra thickness.
• Serve hot over white rice. Garnish with parsley and green onions.

I taste as I go, adjusting the heat level with more hot sauce or cayenne if it needs a kick.

Notes

Honestly, patience makes the best gumbo.

The roux should be dark but not burned; I stir it constantly to keep it silky.

If I want a deeper flavor, I’ll sneak in a spoon of beef bouillon into the stock.

For a milder bite, I just back off on the cayenne.

Leftovers are even better the next day after the flavors mingle.

I stash the gumbo in the fridge and reheat it slowly to keep the texture right.

A piece of crusty bread and a few drops of hot pepper sauce on top really bring it all together.

Tasting Notes

When I take that first bite, I immediately notice the deep, savory flavor from the dark roux. The texture feels smooth and rich, just coating my tongue with a warm spice that really lingers.

I can taste the layers of onion, bell pepper, and celery blending right into the broth. They come together so well, it’s kind of amazing.

The smoky sausage brings a bold, salty edge, while the tender chicken adds a mild comfort I always look for. Every spoonful feels hearty, but somehow it never gets too heavy.

I like how the okra thickens things up a bit without turning slimy. That’s always a relief.

Usually, I eat my gumbo with some cornbread or maybe a slice of crusty French bread. The bread soaks up the broth, making every bite a little more filling.

Sometimes I go for cornbread when I’m craving a touch of sweetness, but other days I want the chewiness of French bread. Depends on my mood, honestly.

When I reheat leftover gumbo, the flavors seem to get bolder. The spices settle together overnight, and suddenly the dish tastes deeper and more balanced.

Every bowl reminds me why I keep coming back to gumbo—it’s simple, comforting, and packed with honest flavor.

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