By KAREN MADORIN
While some locals start the new year with a good Volga German wuenching with the hope of picking up not only good luck but a shiny quarter or better, I prefer celebrating with a savory Southern custom.
Though I have Volga German ancestry, we never learned the traditional VG good wishes for health, long life, and eternity that many descendants in this area share on January 1.
Because that grandmother married a Georgia man, and they had three sons who worked Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, and Montana oil patches, my family practiced the southern black-eyed pea, ham, and greens January 1 tradition. As a bonus, anytime you can add dumplings to broth, you’ve got a win-win situation. Double bonus--you don’t have to worry about mispronouncing unfamiliar German words.
When we first married, my husband didn’t immediately take to eating black-eyed peas, ham, and cabbage New Years Day. He’d gladly devour any ham put before him whether sliced, diced, or ground, but he suspiciously eyed those funny-looking legumes and insisted cooked cabbage made the kitchen stink.
As a new bride, I sweetly ignored his protests and reminded him he had to have at least a bite to assure himself of health, wealth, and good luck in the upcoming year. Despite eating several bowls full every January 1, I couldn’t carry the entire responsibility for guaranteeing 365 days of family good fortune.
Repetition improves most anything, and after our first decade, my sweetheart looked forward to the annual new year’s menu and urged our tiny daughters to eat a spoonful as well. After a few more decades, he’d noted the merits of his bride’s happy smile as she watched him eat this once-a-year dose of good fortune.
Sometimes, I made our Hoppin’ John with canned black-eyed peas and other years from a bag of dry B-E-Ps I’d soaked 24 hours before cooking. No matter, savory scents emanating from ham bones and meat, earthy beans, onion and garlic notes, as well as pungent cabbage filled our kitchen year after year.
We took our black-eyed peas extra seriously when the girls were young. One year, I gave them a spot in the garden to plant black-eyed peas. Imagine the surprise of local 4-H judges when they observed unusual legumes displayed during the annual Free Fair. I guess they became a more common garden item because this year, I saw B-E-Ps displayed at the Ellis Free Fair
Personally, I like black-eyed peas. I don’t care if they were originally grown in the old South as livestock feed. According to one source, humans didn’t eat them until Sherman’s troops marched through Georgia burning farm fields to induce a famine to hasten the end of that war. Surviving livestock may have starved, but, thank goodness, humans discovered this protein-packed delicacy.
I like the tiny kidney shapes sporting a black eye served in soups, as cowboy caviar with chips, and in summer salads combined with lime juice, diced peppers, red onions, and sharp vinegars. I bet they make a great hummus substitute or burrito filling. Test kitchen coming up.
The real luck might be dining on this little protein pack year-round.