Leah Chase on Callaloo / Gumbo Z'herbes

As we went about conducting interviews and gathering other materials in New Orleans for the special Hurricane Katrina issue of Callaloo, John O'Neal agreed, on July 29, 2006, to drive photographer Wendell Gorden and me to visit the internationally known chef, Leah Chase. I felt that an interview with her, unlike those I was conducting with other New Orleanians, would give me information on two different subjects for two different special issues of Callaloo: on the dish callaloo, as it is known in New Orleans, and, of course, on the impact of Katrina on her home and family business, the Dooky Chase Restaurant, a New Orleans institution. When we reached her restaurant in historic Tremé, I immediately noticed the little white FEMA trailer across the street, which had become home for Ms. Chase and her husband, Dooky Chase. John O'Neal led us up the newly constructed unpainted steps of their trailer and knocked on its fragile door. Without ceremony, we entered their close quarters, made our greetings, identified ourselves, and announced the purpose of our visit. What follows is only part one of the interview we taped.

ROWELL: Do you ever make callaloo?

CHASE: John, give him my cookbook over there on that table. A recipe for gumbo z'herbes is in it. Gumbo z'herbes is very much like callaloo. I think the only difference in our gumbo is the greens. For gumbo z'herbes, you chop up greens, and you add ham or the crabs—whatever you want to put in it. The people down in Haiti (or wherever callaloo came from) put their okra in it—and talk about good, ya'll. You mix those greens and that okra, and that gumbo z'herbes will knock your socks off, it's so good. But we didn't add okra, you know, when it came through the islands—this gumbo z'herbes. I think we got a lot of our food from Africa by way of the Caribbean.

Let me tell you the story about gumbo z'herbes, if you don't already know it. We used to eat gumbo z'herbes once a year, only on Holy Thursday. That was the Thursday before Easter Sunday. You know New Orleans was predominantly Catholic. Gumbo z'herbes would be our last big meal before Easter Sunday. You see, on Good Friday they wouldn't let you eat anything. If you ate anything, it was just a little bite of toast in the morning or something. You had to fast, you see, until Easter. So they cooked this gumbo z'herbes. It was greens, just ground greens. You'd put chicken in it, ham in it, sausage in it—all kinds of meats in it—and that was your dinner on Holy Thursday before Easter. That was your big dinner. I don't know where the Creoles come in. You know, they supposed to be superstitious, but I don't know if they so superstitious. That comes from down in the islands too. That is, all the voodoo and whatever superstitions they brought with them.

Let me tell you this joke. You have to put an uneven numbers of greens in a pot.

ROWELL: An uneven number?

CHASE: Yes, an uneven number: five, seven, nine, eleven. You can't go with even numbers.

O'NEAL: What kind of greens?

CHASE: Different types of greens. You have to put a mixture of greens in the pot, but it has to be different types of greens. You can't put two kinds; you can't just put mustards and collards in, and call it a day. That's bad luck. You can't put four greens. You've got to go with the uneven numbers, dear, so you don't take a chance.

O'NEAL & ROWELL: [Laughing.]

CHASE: So you grind the greens up and make that green gumbo. But the joke about that, John, is this: That's supposed to be our thing, you know. And the Creoles de couleur, as we call them, have their own...