Black-eyed peas for New Year's
You can research the reason why Southerners eat black-eyed peas on New Year's Day for good luck, and you can find some engaging, interesting symbolism, such as, "the peas swell when they are cooking, just as your luck will swell in the New Year."
As a Southerner, I wouldn't doubt that for a minute, even if it does not exactly make my eyes mist over. But if that is a little more symbolism than you can chew, and you prefer a more realistic connection between the solicitation and the result, listen to this, which is a true statement: When black-eyes acquired their New Year's Day reputation for luck, it was because the Southern people had grown their own black-eyes, in the warm gardens and fields of summer, and then "put them up," or what city folks call "canning," in quart-sized Mason jars.
On New Year's Day, they opened a couple of these jars, heated up the black-eyes, put them on the table, took a mouthful, and in that instant knew without doubt that in the whole year to come they could not possibly do better, or feel even half as good as they did at that moment, even if a plane flew over and dropped a million dollars on the porch. A year is a long time, and if you want luck throughout, you need to aim high on Day One. And that's where the tradition came from. People who have had put-up black-eyes realize this.
Having put-up black-eyes in the urban age is pretty much a case of knowing the right people. Before his death, Cliff Sims and I were high school classmates and then lifelong pals, and when we were pals, he married Carolyn Meredith, whose parents were farmers near Roscoe, Texas. When I would see Cliff and Carolyn, she would load me up with all the quarts I could talk her out of to take back to California. Believe me, those peas were a standard most of us will never realize on New Year's Day.
So we do the next-best thing. What follows is a recipe that works with either fresh or dried black-eyes. The tradition is popular enough to cause Southern California grocers to stock fresh black-eyes in the week before New Year's, and they come out fine, but I think dried are even better. They taste more like country.
1 lb. dried black-eyes
8 slices bacon, diced
1 medium onion, chopped
salt and pepper
Rinse the black-eyes and soak 4 hours in plenty of water to cover.
In a bean pot or dutch oven, put the bacon with water barely to cover. Over medium-high heat, let the water reduce and boil away just until the bacon starts to fry.
Stir in the onion, liberally season with salt and pepper, and cook until softened. During this time, a dark sheen will start to form on the bottom of the pot. This sheen is flavor gold. You actually are scorching things a little. But not too much. When the sheen is a nice mahogany, pour in half a cup of black coffee, or water. Turn heat to medium-low and scrape the bottom of the pot to help the sheen dissolve into the liquid. In high-tone places, this is called "deglazing the pot."
Drain the black-eyes and pour into the pot (If you use fresh, just rinse and dump them in the pot) with just enough water to reach the top of the peas. Turn heat to low, cover, and simmer until the black-eyes are soft, but not mushy. Start checking at an hour.
On New Year's we are going to have our black-eyes with roasted country-style pork ribs, drunken tomatoes, and good bread. Black-eyes freeze nicely, so don't be shy about making a lot. With luck, you can always have too little, but you can never have too much.
As a Southerner, I wouldn't doubt that for a minute, even if it does not exactly make my eyes mist over. But if that is a little more symbolism than you can chew, and you prefer a more realistic connection between the solicitation and the result, listen to this, which is a true statement: When black-eyes acquired their New Year's Day reputation for luck, it was because the Southern people had grown their own black-eyes, in the warm gardens and fields of summer, and then "put them up," or what city folks call "canning," in quart-sized Mason jars.
On New Year's Day, they opened a couple of these jars, heated up the black-eyes, put them on the table, took a mouthful, and in that instant knew without doubt that in the whole year to come they could not possibly do better, or feel even half as good as they did at that moment, even if a plane flew over and dropped a million dollars on the porch. A year is a long time, and if you want luck throughout, you need to aim high on Day One. And that's where the tradition came from. People who have had put-up black-eyes realize this.
Having put-up black-eyes in the urban age is pretty much a case of knowing the right people. Before his death, Cliff Sims and I were high school classmates and then lifelong pals, and when we were pals, he married Carolyn Meredith, whose parents were farmers near Roscoe, Texas. When I would see Cliff and Carolyn, she would load me up with all the quarts I could talk her out of to take back to California. Believe me, those peas were a standard most of us will never realize on New Year's Day.
So we do the next-best thing. What follows is a recipe that works with either fresh or dried black-eyes. The tradition is popular enough to cause Southern California grocers to stock fresh black-eyes in the week before New Year's, and they come out fine, but I think dried are even better. They taste more like country.
1 lb. dried black-eyes
8 slices bacon, diced
1 medium onion, chopped
salt and pepper
Rinse the black-eyes and soak 4 hours in plenty of water to cover.
In a bean pot or dutch oven, put the bacon with water barely to cover. Over medium-high heat, let the water reduce and boil away just until the bacon starts to fry.
Stir in the onion, liberally season with salt and pepper, and cook until softened. During this time, a dark sheen will start to form on the bottom of the pot. This sheen is flavor gold. You actually are scorching things a little. But not too much. When the sheen is a nice mahogany, pour in half a cup of black coffee, or water. Turn heat to medium-low and scrape the bottom of the pot to help the sheen dissolve into the liquid. In high-tone places, this is called "deglazing the pot."
Drain the black-eyes and pour into the pot (If you use fresh, just rinse and dump them in the pot) with just enough water to reach the top of the peas. Turn heat to low, cover, and simmer until the black-eyes are soft, but not mushy. Start checking at an hour.
On New Year's we are going to have our black-eyes with roasted country-style pork ribs, drunken tomatoes, and good bread. Black-eyes freeze nicely, so don't be shy about making a lot. With luck, you can always have too little, but you can never have too much.
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