Books'nSundries

Here is a recipe that means a lot to me for reasons which will become obvious when you read the story of how I came by it. Remember to click the thumbnails at the end and view the pictures!

~ TUGBOAT GUMBO     ~
                                    from a "grizzeled old tugboat captain"
         . . . by way of GEORGE THOMPSON, Marine Diver extra-ordinaire (...Etc., etc.)
                                        This article by © Emil T. Miller (Tony Miller)

     This treasured recipe was given to me from a good friend of several years ago (35 to be exact). George Thompson got it from a long-time friend of his own, I remember him saying. As he put it, "a grizzled old Cajun of a tugboat captain" from South Louisiana who operated around New Orleans for many years, where he first met him. George gave me his name at the time, and he would surely want credit to be given him for the recipe, but I didn’t record it and it has escaped me forever I believe, otherwise I certainly would give him the credit due. I have tried several times recently to get back in contact with George to renew old acquaintances and to to find out, but have so far been unsuccessful since there are so many people by that name out there. If the right one happens to see this, please contact me, I would love to hear from you again, George. I know you will get a bang out of reading this.
     I guess I ought to tell you a little about George Thompson.   Although I don't know what you might make of it, knowing George, he would be amused to say the least, probably delighted as he reads this. In all my life’s wanderings I have never met anyone even close to being anything like him. He is unique in the world as we all are, but George, well now, George was something else again. If ever there was a man in real life that truly fit Popeye's saying of "I yam what I yam", it was George Thompson. But before I tell you just a very few things about him I should digress a little for the benefit of the Miller side of our family to give them a little personal history and explain how I came to meet George in the aftermath of Hurricane Celia back in 1970.
     At that time I worked for the State Building Commission at the Capitol in Austin, Texas as an uncertified Architect/Engineer as well as Chief Building Construction Estimator and Legislative Advisor. One of my responsibilities, in event of a disaster occurring in the State, was to evaluate the extent of the building damage and to advise the Governor as to whether or not the damage was of such extent that he could ask the President for a Declaration of a National Disaster according to the guidelines of qualification for such a declaration as set forth in U. S. Public Law 91-88; and then if declared it was my job to oversee the implementation of this law as regards buildings in the State of Texas.
     This law provided for grant money - free money (not really free - our tax dollars) which did not have to be repaid, to be provided the State from the Federal Treasury to rebuild, replace or repair any and all disaster damaged facilities and structures in the state which had been originally built with all or any part from public funds (again, our tax dollars). This included such facilities belonging to cities, towns, counties, school districts, fire, hospital, library and navigation districts, etc. And as well, the law provided for either no or low interest loans to be made available for such repair of private dwellings, based on our estimates. Although it was Federal money, the law was so written that the implementation and overseeing of it was by and through the State, who had the lead authority, and was charged with developing the damage estimates and then dispensing the funds (on approval by the Federal agency handling it). That agency has been renamed FEMA now, I have forgotten what the name of it was back then.
    In order for these funds to be released, the Governor of the state having the disaster had to request such a declaration and the President had to agree, and then declare it. In order for me to assess such damage in Texas and make an estimate of it, a National Guard pilot and helicopter was made available at such times. Two days after Hurricane Celia swept in near Corpus Christi, arrangements were made and early the next morning the machine picked me up on the lawn beside the Reagan State Office Building. Then according to a grid I had developed we flew south to the area and flew low over the affected 26 counties, me taking notes and pictures, sometimes stopping to hover low, sometimes to land and take more pictures and to talk to the locals. Then we returned to Austin, the pictures quickly developed, and in my office I made a rough estimate of the scope and damage of the storm, pored over the law as written, and made my determination.
     The governor at the time was Dolph Briscoe, and in his office I and others showed him my estimate and some of the pictures, and I told him I felt that were qualified under the law for a National Declaration. He agreed and called the President on the spot and made the request. After a few questions put to us, the President (Nixon at the time) also agreed, and he made the Declaration public on the evening news nationally.
     I then was assigned the available qualified personnel, and as designated Team Leader for public structures normally working for the State Building Commission I was temporarily farmed out and put under the State Civil Defense Director, We then coordinated the inspectors who went out to identify, describe and quantify the damage of every storm damaged facility for me then to cost out as Chief Construction Estimator. My work during this time also included meeting and coordinating with Mayors, City Managers, County Judges, Hospital Administrators, School Superintendents and the like.
     Then came the head-knocking with the Federal administrators for final approval of my estimates. I of course took the side of the various state entities and went to bat hard for them, making sure our estimates were more than sufficient. I lost very few of those battles (only the ones I really intended to) and secured large and generous funds for the taxpayers of Texas (it was taxpayer money anyway, I reasoned), primarily because I had come to State employment from Warrior Constructors, Inc as Project Superintendent on multi-story hi-rise buildings, and I knew more about construction and the cost of it than any of the people the Feds sent out from Washington. (Got a few mil of our tax money back I did, don'cha know!)

    * Now that you have read this far in this article, I encourage you to take time and digress to this link for my current and much changed opinion about the "National Disaster" law and the reason for this change of heart - it will surely CONFOUND YOU!

     But to continue, it was during this time that I met one George Thompson. He was at that time a deep-sea diver especialle, and all-round roughhouse roustabout par excellence (among a few other things) in Corpus Christi, Texas. While meeting with the County Executive of Nueces County in the Courthouse there (Corpus Christi means "Body of Christ" by the way), the man asked me if I could include in their disaster award, the cost of salvaging a large harbor boat belonging to the County. It had sunk in deep water and it seems there was some question as to the exact time of the sinking and whether or not the storm had directly caused it, but the county would be strapped to cover the cost of the salvage work unless it could be included. He asked me to sit in as he met with the deep-sea diver/contractor waiting outside, to get his rough estimate of the cost, and to then see if anything could be worked out.
     His secretary called him, and in walked a fellow whose presence obviously dominated whatever room he happened to be in. I somehow liked George Thompson immediately and was impressed with his intelligence and his blunt and direct forthrightness, even with the almost outlandish reasoning he put forth in arguing the case (which he shrewdly made little effort to hide). He wanted that salvage job bad, and he was just helping us to find ways to justify a situation already on shaky ground (or should I say watery ground). I said I would make no promises but that I would include the cost in the storm estimates and go to bat for it with the Feds, feeling that I could get it included if I tried hard enough (we are still talking about the peoples' tax dollars here, remember).
     So with at least that hopeful word the salvage contract was signed on the spot. George and I walked out of the office at the same time, and he motioned his head that he wanted me to come with him, saying under his breath, "Let's go get a cool one," as if we had known each other for years. With contract in hand there was no reason for him to butter anyone up, so it was a genuine gesture. I realized later that somehow in the space of just that few minutes George had taken me to be "his kind of people." And George Thompson took care of his people. Like a mother hen. I was intrigued with him and so replied, "OK, I'll go, but I can't partake of the hard stuff because I have to meet with some Feds later on this evening. Want to ask Mr. (the county man - I forgot his name) also?" He turned, went back in and did so. I was surprised that the man came out and went with us.
     George took us to a certain place near the waterfront, and I remember three things about that afternoon. One was that the place he went to itself was so unusual. It was a dive alright, very small, private - and rough looking, but not raucous. The light and the conversations were low and few, and all the men there appeared to be formidable characters in their own right. One could sense that they worked for no one but themselves in what ever their field, all waterfront related. They nodded and mumbled affably to George as we came in, giving the county man and me a furtive once over in our suits and ties. It was obvious that George was the kingpin of that place. Having always been an adaptable sort, I would myself have felt reasonably at ease there, even without George, but the county man didn't know just what to make of it.
     Another thing I remember was that George, without asking, or specifying brand, was automatically served Jax by the barmaid, (a beer then made in Jacksonville, Florida), two at a time. And that he consumed 12 or 14 in the space of time that the county man drank 3 or 4, and it never showed on George in the slightest. Maybe in a few more hours and after a case or so. But the county man was getting goggle-eyed, and when he began to tell of his son being in a wheelchair for the rest of his life he became despondent and George saw that it was time to leave (don't let anyone tell you that Para-Sailing is always perfectly safe). All this left me no doubt that George could drink any man there under the table. He was a big man but not as big as the impression he gave. Standing 6'2 and weighing about 245 pounds, he was ruggedly handsome with a fine build and not a trace of fat on him.
     [I don't want to leave a wrong impression with you about myself. I do not drink and have not for many years, but there was a time when I would drink "socially". Even then I drank only on occasion and never to excess. You must believe this; when all is considered and the total struck, at the very best, nothing good will be the result of the use of alcohol, and it can, does, and has addicted and killed untold numbers, and made fools of millions. It is the single biggest cause of death and always has been. If you live long enough you will come to know the wisdom of understanding these facts and leaving it out of your life totally ...er, teetotally.]
     The third thing I remember about that afternoon is that in the space of about two hours, a spontaneous and close friendship sprang up between George and I, one that happens only two or three times in a lifetime and is never foreseen - or forgotten. I paid little attention to politics at the time, I just knew I was definitely NOT a Yellow Dog Democrat, so we did not talk much politics but only now do I realize that he detested Liberals far worse than I do now. It was not that George and I had so many things in common, which helped, but that something about our psychological make-ups matched up while leaving each of us room enough to be quite different in many ways.
     George operated, as I understood it, a sort of brokerage business of people with unusual and specialized skills, mostly waterfront related and mostly dangerous work few others would touch. He himself was a deep-sea diver (among other things), still using the big, heavy, weighted, airtight rubber suits with a cable and airline attached to the big brass helmet on top of it.
     Diving deep in one of those things is the only thing I can think of that some other men did, that I was (and still am) truly afraid of and that I never tried or wanted to try. It takes more courage than I possess but I would not (or could not) admit it at the time.
     George asked me once, "Want to dive with me sometime?" I replied "You bet!" And I believe I would have tried it, just because George was who he was, but what I really meant was HELL NO! George was just testing me. Seeing if I trusted him. He knew I didn't "want" to, but he wanted to know if I "would" do it if he was there and helped me. Anyway, it would take too long to train me for just a casual dive and I wouldn't be in the area long enough. Still, I wonder now if George wasn't more serious about it - maybe needing or wanting a dive partner he could trust. He went after some weird things and there was always an aura of mystery and danger about him. I took that invitation of his to be as fine a compliment as I have ever had - one of the most profound testaments to my personal boldness and character that I have ever received.
     George was rough, ready, and hard, with a genuine "devil may care" and disarming demeanor, yet just beneath the surface he was also a serious, thoughtful guy who automatically commanded attention and respect. He had easy-going ways and infectious good humor, which gave the unwary a false impression. One did NOT want to mess with George, OR mess him around. He would endure merciless ribbing and be called bad and ugly names, but you dang sure better smile sweetly when you did it. One of his friends later confided that I would NEVER, EVER want to see George truly riled up, that he could roll over a man like a tornado.
     George had business cards, but gave them out to few people, because every body knew about him and there was no need. He gave me one so I would have his new phone number. I kept it for years and thought I had lost it until the other day when I found it in an old wallet. I have included an enlargement of it following this recipe, and I invite your attention particularly to the bottom third of it, listing his “other services” in addition to his deep-sea diving work. If these words I have written have not given you a reasonably clear impression of George Thompson, this card should, and in much fewer words. What is written there appears to be in jest, but I must admit I am not now entirely sure about it and wasn’t at the time either. Were he so inclined I have NO DOUBT that he would be entirely capable of successfully performing most of those "other offerings" listed. You can bet I never questioned George about it though!
     Most important of all, with George you knew that here was an absolutely fearless man who faced death every hour of every day he worked, and if he claimed you as his friend you just knew without a doubt that he would not hesitate to put his life at risk for you if need be. He had a small circle of close friends and for some reason known only to him, he invited me into it almost immediately.
     Needless to say, I looked up to George. Way up. Over the few weeks I remained in the area, I spent several happy evenings after work at his house with his wife and 6 or 8 others of his little inner-sanctum, each a formidable character in his own right, and good solid men all I might add. His wife was a fun-loving she-woman fit for a he-man like George. It was on these occasions that they made an evening of leisurely preparing and serving this TUGBOAT GUMBO and we all had a hand in the preparation of it as we played cards, jousted and pranked around. These evenings were especially meaningful for me since I always got so lonely and miserable at night in motel rooms when I had to be away from my own wife and children.
    Once some years later I served this dish at a monthly supper of the Optimist Club in Austin, Texas during one of my terms as President. They hoorah'ed me (as we did every one who put on those suppers) asking, "Has it got fish heads in it?" They largely failed to appreciate it, though five or six of them sidled up later and asked for the recipe. To most of those Texans of Central Texas (many of whom were ranchers) to whom food consisted of beans, barbequed beef and little else, they lacked the refinement and experience required to appreciate seafood (except for freshwater catfish), and were especially ignorant of Cajun cuisine. I have wished many times I had boiled a stewer of fish heads on the side and put one in certain of their bowls! Even a close friend of mine at the time (who attended as my guest that night and who might read this) gave me little support. But that was easily explained since although he was born in Louisiana (initials JWL), it was way up north around Alexandria, and too, he was raised in West Texas near Rankin where he was brainwashed and misled even further (hehehehe).
     The following recipe for TUGBOAT GUMBO was George Thompson's gift to me on my last week in Corpus. It MAKES APPROXIMATELY 4 ½ GALLONS (enough to last a tugboat crew two days), but you can cut down the ingredients in proportion - or freeze it in meal-sized containers (we have done both).

     ...It's only a glass of milk George, but wherever you are my friend, “HERE's TO YOU, GUY!”
                                                           ... © Emil T. Miller (Tony Miller)
                                                                                           (Click here for AUTHOR'S BIO)

►This is George Thompson's business card he gave me back in 1970 in Corpus Christi, Texas: (Read the bottom part!)

SAD NOTE: While planning and writing this page I searched diligently to find my friend of years ago. Via long distance phone I enlisted the help of some the older folks connected with the waterfront of the Corpus Christi area who helped greatly, especially including, amazingly enough, another nice man also named George Thompson - a retired broker in oil tanker ships to whom I owe much thanks for his tireless efforts to help me. But when he finally located my friend, he found that George had passed away only a year earlier. The hard lesson I was forced to learn anew is that along life's way one should do whatever is necessary to keep in touch with those special people who touch our lives, and never let go of them.
...ETM

►Here is a photo of me, back in 1970 when I was with the State of Texas: (Click to enlarge)

     ~ TUGBOAT GUMBO ~
                       from George Thompson ~ ...furnished by Emil T. Miller (Tony)
                                 (Recipe for Red Beans and Rice follows)

FIRST MAKE THE ROUX, AND SET ASIDE:

     Into a big skillet put 1/2 cup of ham or bacon grease if you have it, shortening, vegetable oil, or lard will do. When hot stir in 3/4 cup of regular flour (or more if needed). Cook stirring constantly until thick and dark brown (but not black), and set aside.

NEXT, PREPARE A BIG POT OF RICE AND SET ASIDE:
    Vous ne pouvez jamais avoir trop de riz (you can never have too much rice!)

LES INGRÉDIENTS:

2 bunches Celery (use it all- no waste)
2 very large Yellow Onions
2 large Bell Peppers
*2 lbs Chicken Gizzards
*1 bottle Gumbo Filé
l lb. Polish Sausage
1 large whole Chicken or Hen (Rabbit or Squirrel can be substituted)
1 heaping tsp. Black Pepper
Salt (as needed - see directions)
2 level tsp. Cayenne Pepper
2 pints Fresh Oysters (or same amount of canned oysters)
2 lbs. Fish Fillets cut into large pieces (Cod is preferred - Catfish, Red Snapper,
     or whatever fish you find in your nets will do)
2 lbs. de-headed Shrimp, the larger the better

(*) The two most important ingredients according to the good captain.

LES DIRECTIÓNS:

   * In a smaller skillet dice the chicken gizzards into large chunks, brown slowly in butter and put aside.
   * Into skillet dice the celery, onions, and bell peppers and sauté in butter only until onions are clear (about 1 to 2 minutes), and set aside.
    * Into large stock pot cut the chicken into pieces as if for frying, add 2 1/2 gallons of water, add the celery, onions, bell peppers, and chicken gizzards. Bring to a low boil.
    * Add 1/2 bottle of the Gumbo Filé, a little salt, the black pepper, the cayenne pepper, and stir thoroughly.
     * Cook until the brew "begins to taste good" - use your best judgement.
     * Peel the sausage, dice and add to the pot, cooking until the chicken is done but not falling off the bone.
     * Add the rest of the bottle of Gumbo Filé and the roux, stir thoroughly, then add the oysters, fish, and shrimp.
   * Add salt and cayenne pepper to taste and cook 3 to 5 minutes (or until just before the fish begins to flake apart).

NOTE: It is considerate to put a smaller bowl (or saucer) beside each bowl for the crew to put their bones and husks into.

Serve hot in large bowls over rice. Ah oui, Mangeons!

A FURTHER WORD OF INFORMATION from the Captain: The great object with this preparation is that no main ingredient is overcooked and that each retains its own distinct taste exactly as if each had been prepared and eaten separately (the sausage, oysters, fish, chicken and shrimp), and that the gumbo soup has its own separate and distinct taste.

(A WORD FROM ME): You can peel the shrimp and remove the skin and bone the chicken if you wish, but the good captain never did, nor did George Thompson, nor do I. To me the enjoyment and romance of this dish is to be ready and willing to dive in with the fingers and capture the mood of the Captain's hurried but careful preparation, along with that of the hungry crew as they drag in tired, cold and hungry, to sit down and eat a portion of their catch of the day.

Jouir de vous, mes cher famille!

*Since one can hardly eat Cajun food without red beans and rice, here is the recipe!

                            RED BEANS and RICE
                                           from Emil T. Miller (Tony)

     This is a side dish which also originated in the Cajun cooking of South Louisiana (along Bayou Teche), and it goes great with Tugboat Gumbo or just about any Cajun entré one can think of. I put it here so you would consider having it with the Tugboat Gumbo recipe just above this. It goes GREAT with it!

1/2 cup chopped Onion                   1 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1 cup chopped Celery                     1/4 cup Green Pepper
1/2 lb Link Sausage, sliced              1 tblspn Margarine
1 tblspn chopped parsley                 1 tblspn Hot Pepper sauce
1 Bay leaf Pinch of Sugar                Hot cooked Rice
1 1/2 tblspn Ketchup
1-15 oz can Red Kidney Beans, drained and liquid reserved.

     Sauté onion celery, and green pepper in margarine in a large skillet. Add everything except the beans, hot pepper sauce, and sugar and cook 15 minutes. Then add the last three and cook 5 minutes. Remove bay leaf before serving. Serve over hot rice. Makes 3 to 4 servings.

                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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