Luck Be a Legume Tonight

Every family has its New Year’s traditions. In my house it was eating ambrosia, which lost its appeal once my mother explained that the oranges and shredded coconut would not, despite what my mythology books said, confer immortality. For my in-laws, each new year starts with eating black-eyed peas, a Southern custom to ensure good luck.

According to Sharon Tyler Herbst’s “Food Lover’s Companion,” the traditional good-luck dish is called hoppin’ John (black-eyed peas, salt pork and seasonings served over rice) and may have originated with African slaves on Southern plantations. My Arkansas-raised father-in-law says hoppin’ John isn’t common in his part of the South, which has its own version of the black-eyed peas dish. I learned all of this very early in the courtship of my future wife.

On New Year’s Day 1996, we had taken the train back to Albany from New York City after a barnburner of a New Year’s Eve. The night’s festivities had left us feeling as if we’d been pulled through a knothole, and we barely spoke as we hunted for the car in the station’s parking lot. My girlfriend of less than a month suddenly looked at her watch and said, with some urgency, “peas.” She then explained, as best she could, why she had to eat black-eyed peas before the clock struck midnight.

It was 9:45 p.m. on the first day of the year, I was in subzero Albany two hours from home and my traveling companion had just asked me to find her a dish that probably didn’t exist north of the Mason-Dixon line. She might as well have asked me to pull moon rocks out of my pocket. So I did what any gallant boyfriend would do--I drove the streets until I found the only open grocery store in the city that stocked a can of the luck-inducing legume.

The store did not, however, stock can openers, which forced me to improvise with the leather punch and flathead screwdriver I had in the trunk of my car. After 20 minutes of hammering and prying, the can opened just far enough to fish out two peas. When I looked up, her face registered both bewilderment and bemusement--exactly what you’d expect after watching a loved one reenact the “dawn of man” sequence from “2001: A Space Odyssey.” We ate our peas and laughed all the way to my parents’ home.

Although I don’t consider myself a superstitious man, 1996 did turn out to be a pretty good year. It started with assault and battery on canned goods and ended with our move to Los Angeles to make a life together. Most years since, we’ve been fortunate to ring in the New Year with our families back East, and my wife’s dad always whips up his signature dish. While we’re upstairs packing, the scent of simmering peas, bay leaves, sausage and onion is a reminder that the new year is starting and our visit home is ending.

Last year, we returned to L.A. on Dec. 30 for our first West Coast New Year’s in several years. I found a FedEx package waiting at the door. It contained last-minute luck insurance--two cans of black-eyed peas from my father-in-law. This year I’ve decided not to tempt fate, so with a few weeks left, I’ve got his recipe in hand--well, my version of it anyway. (He may have entrusted me with his eldest daughter, but he hasn’t parted with the exact details of the dish.) Just in case, I’m tucking an emergency can--and an opener--into the glove compartment of my car.

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Black-Eyed Peas

Serves 6 to 8

1 pound dried black-eyed peas

10 cups cold water, divided

1 bay leaf

1 tablespoon olive oil

4 ounces pork fatback, diced into 1-inch cubes

1 1/2 cups chopped yellow onion

1 1/2 cups chopped green bell pepper

1/4 teaspoon dried thyme

2 cloves garlic, minced

1/2 pound precooked pork sausage, sliced into 1/2-inch rounds

1 tablespoon Tabasco sauce

Salt to taste

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Cooked white rice

Note: Ask your butcher for pork fatback or look for it in Latino markets.

Rinse dried peas in a colander under cold running water. Soak overnight in eight cups of cold water in a heavy saucepan. The next day add two more cups of water and a bay leaf and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to a simmer, cover the saucepan and cook for one hour until tender, stirring occasionally.

Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a skillet and add the diced fatback, cooking about 10 minutes until browned. Add to the peas. Place the onion, green pepper, thyme and garlic in the skillet and cook until softened. Add to the peas and stir to combine thoroughly. After the peas have cooked for one hour, add the sliced sausage and Tabasco and cook for 15 minutes to heat the sausages. Season with salt and pepper. Spoon peas, vegetables and broth over cooked white rice and serve.