Eating black-eyed peas on New Year’s is supposed to bring
good luck, and as with most traditions there are lots of different reasons
given. Some sources attribute this to salt pork and black-eyed peas being considered
unfit food to send to Confederate soldiers, and therefore the only remaining
staples available to celebrate the Emancipation Proclamation in January of
1863. Others say that the peas, since they increase in size when cooked, represent
prosperity (and collard greens, money; pork, positive motion; and cornbread,
gold; and hence the traditional preparation). A portion of the Talmud written
around 500 A.D. refers to eating black-eyed peas as part of the celebration of
Rosh Hashanah, and eating black-eyed peas with rice in a long-simmered pilau is
an African tradition.
Wherever, whenever, and whyever Hoppin’ John became the
unofficial dish of New Year’s Day, I’m very happy about it. The first person who
ever cooked this for me was my father-in-law, who passed along his recipe; it
was followed faithfully until we discovered the Lee Brothers, whose version has
a little more kick. During the nightshade-free years we still made this,
although it wasn’t nearly the same without tomatoes and peppers and cayenne. I’m
happy to report that David has loosened up his dietary restrictions and John
will happily endure a little heat for a dish that bears his name. A big pot of Hoppin’
John is the centerpiece of New Year’s Day dinner, and the leftovers make a fine
breakfast once I’ve started to reach my limit on Kristi’s awesome cheese dip
(or run out, which is far more likely).
Adapted from The Lee Brothers Southern Cookbook, with a shout-out to my father-in-law
Hoppin’ John
1 cup dried black-eyed peas
4 or more slices thick-cut bacon, depending on how much you
plan to eat while cooking, diced
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
2 stalks celery, chopped
6 cups water or stock
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
1 tsp salt
1 14-oz can diced tomatoes
1 ½ cups long-grain rice
Rinse the peas, place them in a bowl, and soak for at least
4 hours. If you forget, it’s not the end of the world (or dinner) – just adjust
the cooking times before you add the rice.
Cook the bacon in a large Dutch oven. When the pieces are cooked,
remove them with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels. If you lack
self-control (ahem) even on the first day of the year, set aside the equivalent
of 4 pieces in a small bowl for garnishing the finished dish so you can eat the
rest without feeling any sort of remorse.
Cook the onion and celery in the rendered bacon fat until the
onions are translucent. Add the water or stock, black pepper, red pepper
flakes, and salt and bring to a boil. Add the peas and boil gently until the
peas are tender but still a little toothsome, about 25 minutes for soaked peas.
Add the tomatoes and rice to the pot, then cover and reduce
the heat to low. Simmer about 20 minutes, until most of the liquid is absorbed
and the rice and peas are cooked.
Remove from heat and let stand about 5 minutes. Fluff with a
fork, sprinkle with the reserved bacon, and
serve. For optimal luck, serve with collards and cornbread.