This is real gumbo. Not that watery soup someone's coworker brought to the potluck and called "Cajun." This one has chicken, andouille sausage, the holy trinity of vegetables, and yes—okra. If you're one of those "I don't like okra" people, I'm going to need you to get over yourself. It's a thickener. It belongs here. Trust the process.
Get your pot hot. Preheat a large heavy-bottomed pot (like a Dutch oven) over medium-high heat. Add 1 tablespoon of olive oil—about one turn around the pan if you're eyeballing it like a normal person.
Brown the first batch of chicken. Add half the diced chicken to the pot. Season with salt, pepper, and a sprinkle of poultry seasoning. Brown on all sides, about 2-3 minutes. You're not cooking it through—just getting color on it. While it's browning, start chopping your vegetables because you're a multitasker now.
Add half the sausage. Toss in half the diced andouille and cook another 1-2 minutes. Transfer the chicken and sausage to a plate or bowl.
Repeat. Add the remaining tablespoon of oil, then brown the rest of the chicken (season it!) and sausage. Transfer to the plate with the first batch. This batch cooking nonsense is annoying, but if you crowd the pan, you'll steam the meat instead of browning it, and nobody wants that.
Build the base. Return the pot to heat and add the butter. When it melts, add the celery, bell peppers, onion, and bay leaves. Season with salt, pepper, and your hot sauce (start with 2 tablespoons if you're unsure—you can add more later). Cook 3-5 minutes until the vegetables start to soften.
Make a quick roux. Sprinkle in the flour and stir it around. Cook for 2 minutes, stirring constantly. This is thickening power, not raw flour flavor.
Add the broth. Slowly stir in the chicken broth. "Slowly" means don't dump it all in at once like an animal—add it gradually while stirring so you don't get lumps. Bring the whole thing up to a boil.
Bring it all together. Once it's boiling, add the okra, all that chicken and sausage you set aside, both cans of tomatoes, and half of your fresh thyme. Stir it up. Bring it back to a bubble, then reduce to a simmer.
Let it do its thing. Simmer for 5 minutes to let all the flavors get to know each other. Taste it. Adjust your seasonings. Need more heat? Add more hot sauce. Too bland? More salt. Trust your tongue.
Serve it properly. Ladle the gumbo into big bowls. Use an ice cream scoop to put a perfect mound of white rice right in the center. Garnish with the remaining chopped thyme and those pretty angled scallions. Look at you, feeding 8-10 people like a boss.
Stuff You Might Need
A large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven. A wooden spoon. An ice cream scoop for the rice if you want to be fancy (and you do—presentation matters even when you're pretending it doesn't). The ability to brown meat in batches without complaining about it.