It turns out what they say about making your roux is true.

To quote a Three Dog Night album, “It Ain’t Easy.”

Stir, Stir. Slowly turn up the heat. Stir, stir. Watch for the color to change. Keep stirring. Monitor that soft boil with all your heart and mind. But be careful. Turn up the heat just a smidgen too much, and it’s game over. Crash and definitely burned.

Any gumbo veteran will tell you that the trick to making it is all in the roux — the oil and flour mixture that is used as a thickening agent in traditional Cajun dishes. The longer you cook the roux over the stove top while stirring, the darker and more flavorful it becomes: But you must be oh-so careful not to scorch it along the way.

The bottom line? If you want to make gumbo, you’re in for at least an hour stooped over the stove, stirring constantly and watching your roux like a hawk.

Aunt Frances never made it look that hard. Growing up, most times we went out to the “land” in rural Northeast Texas to see her and Uncle Ray, there was a pot of gumbo already steaming over the stove. The two had previously lived in Louisiana and she’d picked up a few nifty tricks there. Aroma of crawfish or shrimp and the inimitable gumbo smell filled their home. The family would sit around her bright orange bar-style countertop and eat gumbo at all hours of the day, paired always with — oddly enough — her signature potato salad.

I’m not sure if anyone ever figured how the potato salad fit in — other than a little simple Southern potato salad pride — but we all wanted to make gumbo like Aunt Frances.

That’s where it got difficult: Like many cooks of her generation, she cooked by memory and rarely wrote down any of her recipes. If pried for certain amounts of spices or ingredients, she’d say “oh, you know, a couple of handfuls.” And the roux?

“Just keep stirring, and don’t burn it.”

Over the weekend, my wife, my mother and I tried recreating Aunt Frances’ gumbo. Over years of visits, my mom had written down what she could remember by watching her aunt, and had accumulated a pretty comprehensive recipe.

Luckily, the roux didn’t burn and we ate on that gumbo for hours. But we saved the potato salad for another day.

Aunt Frances’ Louisiana Gumbo

• 1 whole chicken, boiled and deboned (save stock from boiled chicken)

• 2 pounds smoked sausage, thinly sliced