black-eyed peas for luck in the coming year
I’m not sure where this thinking comes from, but Southerners have long held that chowing down on a serving of black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day is essential to the coming year’s good luck. I had a college roommate who, in spite of celebrating the incoming year a little too freely, still managed to choke down a single black-eyed pea one New Year’s Day. And with that, she was convinced she’d gotten the year off to a proper start. I didn’t say anything, but I figured she needed all the good luck she could get in light of the wealth of trouble she’d stirred up the night before.
Oh well. Say what you will, but I do think that with all the culinary sinning going on during the holidays, it’s nice to have something as basic as a bowl of black-eyed peas to see you into the new year. And they’re cheap, which is a welcome relief after all the expenditures of the preceding weeks. Black-eyed peas are a great resolutions food. You know: I resolve to eat healthier next year. I resolve not to spend as much next year…
I come from a farm family where every dinner and supper (we didn’t have anything called “lunch” there) was of the meat-and-three variety. There was always a serving of meat–a hunk of meat, not just little bits of it stirred into rice or pasta–three vegetables (seasoned with bacon drippings), bread and dessert. In spite of this, I’m perfectly happy with a one-dish meal, and Himself usually prefers this, too. But if we’re going to sit down to a meal made up almost entirely of legumes and rice, it better be a dang good dish of food.
For New Year’s Day this year, it’s black-eyed peas on a bed of brown rice. There’s really not much of a recipe here. You rinse the dried black-eyed peas and sift through, looking for any small rocks that might have gotten in during the harvest. Bring them to a boil in a large pot of water, then kill the heat, slap on the lid and let them sit for an hour. Then pour out the water, add some fresh and simmer for an hour or so, until the peas are cooked to your liking. Where the creativity and personal preference come in is in how you season them. A chunk of fat back or hog jowl tossed into the pot during cooking is good. I was out of both, but I did have a nice piece of country ham with a bone in it, so I cut it into several hunks and threw those in, along with a red jalapeno pepper, quartered. The ham had enough salt that we didn’t need to add any more.
We sprinkled our black-eyed peas with some pepper vinegar and accompanied them with some home-canned watermelon rind pickles we’d bought at a recent church bake sale. It was a simple but satisfying meal–and our annual black-eyed pea immunization against all things diabolical for the coming year.
To be truthful, this isn't just black-eyed peas and rice. I was pretty generous with the "flavoring agent." In my opinion, the more pork the better!
p.s. As I was proofreading this entry aloud, when I got to the word “rinse,” I said, “rench,” which is what my dad always said. I have a feeling a lot more Southern words and pronunciations are going to come creeping in this year.
Well, thunderation! Daddy used to say that, too.
Carol, your mom’s field peas were my absolute favorite food ever. Just thinking of them makes my mouth water. My brother felt the same, although he doused them with ketchup. Whenever we played the ‘name your favorite food’ game, “Aunt Nell’s black-eyed peas” won. We don’t really know the difference between black-eyed peas and ‘field peas’. I am assuming either works for luck.
Happy New Year, cousin.
Field peas, black-eyed peas and purple-hulled peas are all pretty much the same thing, as far as I can tell. There are so many varieties of so many foods that it’s difficult to keep up with them all. Of course, we tend to know about only a few of any given food because that’s all the stores carry.
Mother made some great peas, but topping them with Cousin Lelabell’s relish really put them over the top!
Happy New Year, Deb!
My sister (whose in-laws come from Virginia & Texas) once told me that the peas stand for coins & the greens stand for dollar bills, and eating them means you’ll be prosperous in the new year. I have no idea if that’s true, but it makes a certain kind of sense!
That sounds like as good a reason as any I’ve heard! From what I’ve read of New Year’s lucky food traditions, it seems to me like different cultures essentially are eating on New Year’s Day what they’re eating every other day of the year, like noodles in Asia (and black-eyed peas in the South).
A few years ago we rang in the new year with a friend from Mexico and observed several Mexican traditions. One of those was to consume twelve grapes at midnight, one on each of the twelve tolls of the bell. Later I learned that the practice originated in Spain in the early 1900s to help deal with a grape surplus! So much for traditions… 😉
Cheers, Wendy!
Thanks to Tracie, this is now part of our family New Year tradition. 🙂
That Tracie is a smart gal, and you’re a smart guy to follow her lead!
Of course, I made some black-eyed peas, too, vegetarian style. Okra, tomatoes, celery, onions, garlic, some veggie broth. By all accounts, they were tasty, even if I had to explain the tradition that needs no words for Southerners. 🙂
Wow, that sounds kind of fancy, Tracie!
As for explaining “the tradition that needs no words for Southerners,” (I like that expression, by the way), I’d probably just shrug with my mouthful of peas and say, “It’s a Southern thang.”
Have black eye peas every year! This time with cornbread and sauteed collard greens, and managed to work bacon into every dish. Happy New Year, Carol!
Oooh, I’m impressed, Katy! You must have some Southern blood flowing through you. Next time I stay in California for the holidays I’m going to have to head up your way for this proper New Year’s feast!