San Francisco’s Gumbo Scene Is Heating Up This Winter

Chef Dontaye Ball, better known As Mr. Gumbo, I couldn't say exactly how old he was when he first tried gumbo at his grandmother's house in the Fillmore District. His grandmother always said she was eight years old. His mother thinks there were more like four. But either way, gumbo tastes like Christmas to him. Ball remembers the whole family elbowing their way into the kitchen and arguing about exactly what was going into the pot.

For a long time, good gumbo was hard to find in San Francisco. But thankfully, as we struggle through this wet winter, San Francisco appears to be nearing peak gumbo. Brenda always prepared a serious bowl full of chicken, andouille, and okra. Boug Cali will be coming to the Ferry Building this year bringing jars of seafood gumbo to take home. Meanwhile, Gumbo Social opened last summer in Bayview, where Ball delves deep into the iconic dish.

Many people know gumbo as the official state dish of Louisiana, although there are variations of it throughout the South. Ball's grandmother grew up on a farm in Mississippi and cooked for a family in San Francisco for 20 years, making her a gumbo expert and a “fantastic cook,” according to Ball. Ball was born and raised in Bayview. He attended culinary school at City College, trained in France, cooked at Delfina and worked in the restaurant industry. At Gumbo Social, he doesn't try to recreate anyone's grandmother's stew. For him, gumbo feels more personal. “I'm a firm believer that each bowl should taste a little different than the last depending on how the person is feeling,” says Ball. “The emotions of what they're going through in life comes through in this pot of gumbo. “

According to him, the key ingredients for gumbo include a roux made from fat and flour; the “holy trinity” of onion, celery and pepper; and “the Pope” or garlic. Some purists say the pepper has to be green, but the California chef loves colorful reds and yellows. Despite some haters, he insists on okra. Okra is originally from West Africa, where it is called “Ki Ngombo” or simply “Gombo”. So it is the name of the ingredient and part of the history of the dish. To get the most out of it, he thinly slices the okra, salts it, and roasts it, which he says is crucial to the stew's earthy flavor and viscous texture.

Chef Dontaye Ball of Social Gumbo Meika begins

“I'm not the gumbo porter,” he jokes, “but I like to talk shit.” There are a few controversial ingredients he can't stand, particularly tomatoes and corn. “Corn is one of those things. It's actually against the law. That can get you ten years in prison.”

The most important technique is to be patient with the roux. His grandmother relied on her cast iron skillet and always used oil. (One time an uncle washed it in water and hit him with it.) His Texas grandfather preferred aromatic lard or bacon grease. Ball uses a combination of oil and butter to add a hint of toasted flavor to the browned butter. He lets it gurgle in large vats in the restaurant for two and a half hours until it is darker than mahogany. His broths, which are enriched with chicken carcasses, ham bones or shrimp shells and simmer for up to 24 hours, also sink for many hours. Additionally, he smokes his own turkeys, another 8-hour project.

Building on this foundation of deep flavor, Ball makes several versions, including classic chicken and sausage, smoked turkey, and black-eyed peas (gumbo can't be gluten-free because of the roux, but it can apparently be vegan). From there, he gets a little West Coast flavor with the toppings, like crispy duck like carnitas, smoked pork belly and fried chicken wings. His uncles always argued about who gets more shrimp or crab, so he offers blue crab most of the year and promises Dungeness during the season (he's between crab guys at the moment, so stay tuned). On unusual occasions he has even prepared a butter-poached lobster, presented in the shell.

Finally, his grandmother liked a pinch of filé—the ground sassafras leaves first used by the Native Americans of the American South, which included the people of the Choctaw Nation; It was later adopted by French chefs – it thickens the stew and adds herbal flavor. However, his mother always passed on the strong spice, which is why Ball optionally stores it in a shaker. A collection of hot sauces, many shared by locals, once numbered 69 bottles but now number just a dozen. Ball recommends tasting the gumbo before adding hot sauce, and for some heat, he goes with the classic Louisiana Crystal or the East Bay's local Lucky Dog.

From the open kitchen, Ball watches as customers dig in and sit back. He often hears people say, “Man, this is taking me back” or “Damn, I haven't had a good bowl of gumbo in a long time.” Sometimes he can see the wheels turning, and especially when a customer with one When someone has a clear opinion, it may take them all the way to the bottom of the bowl to figure out exactly what they like. “It's a dish that reflects well what America is supposed to be,” says Ball. “A melting pot of different cultures.” He tastes the African ingredients, the indigenous flavors, the French techniques and different perspectives. “Similar to jazz, we all play together. It doesn’t matter who comes from where, we all make music together.”

Don Bowden

Gumbo Social (​5176 3rd Street) is open Wednesday through Saturday from 12:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m.

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