When I was growing up, New Year’s Day dinner included three things: black-eyed peas, collard greens, and cornbread baked in a cast-iron skillet. The peas are supposed to bring good luck; the collards, prosperity. Being a superstitious lot, of course we Texans are gonna glom onto traditions like that.
To be perfectly frank, black-eyed peas are not my favorite dish. They don’t even look all that appetizing to me. As a kid, I used to hold my nose and swallow a couple of mouthfuls as insurance for the coming year. I was hardly alone in that behavior — lots of folks find what we colloquially call “cowpeas” objectionable in both taste and texture. Regardless, I still cook a big mess of them on New Year’s Day every year and serve them with sautéed collards and a batch of
Texas-style cornbread. If I can’t round up collard greens, I substitute spinach.
I’ve actually grown fonder of black-eyed peas as I’ve gotten older. The trick is not to overcook the peas. When done, they should be just this side of mushy, especially if you, like me, intend to foist off the leftovers on your family in a variety of guises over the coming week. Very little goes to waste in our house — sometimes with positively dreadful results. But that’s a tale for another day.
Black-eyed peas are one of those foods I cook without a recipe. The ingredients are simple, and approximate measurements work just fine. Here’s how I cook mine. Any of the spices can be replaced with something more to your liking: Try oregano, sage, or thyme instead of cumin, for example.
Black-eyed Peas, Texas Style
A mess of black-eyed peas (1 small bag dried, a couple of cans, or 3-4 cups fresh or frozen)
6-8 slices bacon
Ham (hocks, slab, hambone, whatever trips your trigger)
1 small to medium onion, chopped
1/2 green bell pepper, chopped
2 or 3 celery ribs, chopped
1 small to medium carrot, chopped
1-2 cloves garlic, chopped or pressed (to taste)
Water or chicken stock
3 or 4 bay leaves
Dash of cumin
Salt
Pepper
Fresh
jalapeños to taste, seeded and chopped
Garnish: Parsley, chopped fresh tomatoes, chopped green or red onions, fresh or pickled
jalapeño slices, pico de gallo, or whatever else you like
1) If using dried or fresh peas, wash and pick through to remove any small pebbles or bad peas. (Note: It’s not necessary to soak or pre-boil dried peas, but if you feel compelled to do so, go right ahead.) If using canned peas, drain. If using frozen peas, thaw for a few minutes under running water in a colander.
2) In a deep, heavy pot, fry bacon until almost crisp. Remove and drain, leaving drippings in the pot. (If you like, you may toss in whatever ham you’re using at this point and fry it a bit, too. Then remove it from the grease and drain with the bacon.)
3) Add onion, celery, bell pepper, and carrot to the drippings and sauté until onion is clear. (Southerners call this “sweating” the veggies. The process releases flavors and aromas guaranteed to make your mouth water.) Add garlic and sauté for a minute or so more.
4) Dump peas,
jalapeños, ham and bacon into the pot with the veggies. Add enough water or chicken stock (or a combination) to cover. Add bay leaves and season to taste with salt, pepper, and cumin. Bring pot to a boil, then reduce heat, cover, and simmer until the broth is creamy and the peas are tender. Add water or stock as necessary to keep the peas covered as they cook.
That’s it! Garnish as desired when serving, or set out a bunch of potential garnishes and let everyone add their own. Serve over rice, and you’ve got the Southern staple we call Hoppin’ John. Add crispy-on-the-outside cornbread and a green vegetable or salad for a tummy-filling, soul-warming meal.
If you and your family are adventurous, leftover black-eyed peas may be pureed or mashed and combined with spices, cheese, sour cream, and/or a variety of other condiments to create interesting and tasty dips and spreads that make great football-watching snacks.
