Gumbo

Kianta Young

I remember when I first met my stepmother's family, her mother was cooking, but I didn't want to ask what it was because I didn't want to make the wrong impression. The food didn't smell too great. And then I remember my step-grandmother saying, "Come and get it." Everybody, including my father, got up and ran to the kitchen to get some gumbo, but I knew he would because he's from the country and he will eat anything.

My brother and I just looked at each other and were thinking, "What are they eating?" We just sat there while everybody was eating, and finally somebody noticed that we weren't eating. So, they asked us if we weren't hungry, and my father explained that we were very picky eaters.

Then one day when we were back home from Louisiana, my father somehow had a craving for some gumbo, so my stepmother made it her business to make it for him. I remember that day well because, when I came back in the house from playing outside, the smell in the house was gross. My father was anxious and kept asking when was it going to be done. All I could think about was how hungry I was and how I wanted her to cook something else, but she was determined to get us to try this nasty smelling food.

So, when it was finally done, my father ran to the kitchen and fixed his bowl, but my brother and I were hesitant. We were both hungry and had nothing else to eat, so we tried it. I loved it because it was spicy, and I love spicy food. I am also a meat lover, and it was full of meat, so from that day on, my stepmother has made a big pot of it every winter. What we don't eat, she'll freeze for a later date.