I was a grown woman before I ever heard the word "poutine" and it was years after that when I figured out that it wasn't an insult to a woman but rather what we in Oklahoma inelegantly called "gravy fries." I'm not proud of my incuriosity on the subject. It just didn't seem important. By the time it really became a thing in the states where I lived, I had already gone gluten-free, and I assumed my window of opportunity had closed in that respect. Never underestimate an Okie's need for gravy. When the odds seemed stacked against me, I found a way.
The very first comfort food dish I translated to gluten-free cooking was the gods' most perfect food: chicken fried steak with cream gravy. I learned early on that garbanzo/chickpea flour not only substituted perfectly for wheat flour in this case, it actually performed better. This gravy never has rubbery lumps of uncooked, unfatted flour. Despite knowing how well it works for cream gravy, I was slow to apply this knowledge to stock gravies. I didn't try it with turkey until my sister in law broke that barrier at Thanksgiving. I only half-assed it with pot roasts, more as an afterthought than anything else. Today, I made a serious effort to create beef gravy from scratch, and I started with a distinctly non-beef fat: bacon.
I fried two pieces of bacon for the fat, and set aside the actual bacon, forgetting about them until much later. I dumped in a quarter cup or so of garbanzo flour, and stirred the resulting paste around the pan far longer than I usually do, trying to recreate a brick roux, or something close to it. When I was satisfied that it was thoroughly cooked (chickpea is the worst when it's raw), I poured in beef stock from a carton, very little bits at a time, stirring until it was creamy smooth before adding more. Accidents often yield the greatest discoveries, and when I unintentionally added too much stock, making the gravy far too watery, I took it as an opportunity to simmer and slow-cook, rather than a reason to panic. My patience paid off. While I stirred and simmered, I added more seasonings than I would have tried otherwise. Beyond the usual salt and pepper, I put in some dried herbs (thyme, marjoram, and a bay leaf for sure, maybe sage too?), some freshly ground coriander, and in my search for a little je ne sais quoi, I put in a tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce. More than anything, I gave it time.
I experimented with the potatoes, too. I blended peanut and coconut oils, out of necessity (I didn't have enough peanut oil to use it alone). I have recently upgraded my candy/fry thermometer, and for the first time in my life (really), I used a thermometer to make sure my oil was hot enough. Usually I just watch the shimmer on the bottom of the pan, and it is never hot enough when I start. I used russet potatoes, which I had in abundance since the last trip to Costco. I usually have gold potatoes on hand. And I tried a two-stage fry, like one uses for fried chicken, pulling them out after about three minutes to drain and release steam, or something. (I forget why they say to do it twice, but I'm fairly certain it has to do with water.) After the second fry, I dusted them liberally with salt and pepper (more pepper than salt), and put them in bowls to hold all the gravy to come. It probably took twenty minutes to fry two batches of potatoes, and the gravy simmered that whole time. It was perfect by the time I poured it over the fries. In the place of cheese curds that are usually on top, I crumbled an aged white cheddar (Coastal), and it completed the picture.
This is easily the longest I've ever spent on making a bowl of gravy fries, but the end result far exceeded my expectations. I'm beginning to see why this was ever a thing. And who needs wheat to make this meal? Not me. My little Okie soul was not able to hold out long enough to take pictures before I ate, sorry. It was actually quite pretty, before it was an empty bowl with a cat face in it. I did get a photo of the cat face who cleaned up for me, later this evening. Best I could do.
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