He's absolutely convinced that gumbo is some sort of bread-like thing, something solid made with grits and chicken. He looks at me like I'm crazy when I insist that it's a stew. Oh, and he says there can't be okra in it. No rice either. I don't know if he's pulling my leg, or if this strange version of gumbo actually exists somewhere south of here. Or maybe he's gone senile. He is 72.
|
|