Black-Eyed Peas

Here in the South, it is traditional on New Year's Day to make collard greens and black-eyed peas--not cooked together, of course, as some people have mistakenly done, but as two separate dishes. It's a shame that neither is the best of its class--I much prefer turnip greens to collard greens, and cream peas to black-eyed peas. Still, tradition is tradition, and at any rate black-eyed peas must have some kind of hold on me, because on the drizzly, chilly Saturday of this past weekend, as I walked out of the gym and to my car, I was suddenly overcome by a craving for black-eyed peas. I cursed the craving, for I knew that however good black-eyed peas sounded, their taste would disappoint me. They just never hold up their end of the bargain. Edible, yes, but never soul-satisfying in the way that rice and gravy or baked spaghetti or hot brown-and-serve rolls dipped in the syrup from baked canned sweet potatoes are.

Still, just as tradition is tradition, I had this craving and it was not going to go away. Luckily for me, my gym is just a few doors from a Kroger. As I walked to the Kroger, I mulled over the likely seasoning meats. I didn't want to use ham hocks, as they often leave small pieces of bone in the peas and I can never get much meat from them anyway. I decided I would use a boring ham steak--after all, I was making boring black-eyed peas--and that was the culinary direction in which I was headed until I noticed a display of country-cured hog jowls. Weren't hog jowls, parading under the Italian name of guanciale, all the rage in foodie New York restaurants just a short while ago? I dropped a pound package in my cart.

All I will say is this: black-eyed peas flavored with hog jowls are like no black-eyed peas I have ever had before. Here is my simple recipe. (Note: If you'd rather skip cooking your own and go out on New Year's Day, the Slow Food Triangle group is serving black-eyed peas and collard greens at the Fullsteam Brewery; for details, click here.)

2/3 pound country-cured hog jowls (see the notes below)
1 1/2 cups chopped onion
1 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 pound dried black-eyed peas, washed and picked over
Enough cold water to cover the peas by a quarter of an inch

1. The hog jowls came in slices, like bacon. Cut them into one-half-inch to one-inch pieces, and cook them for three or four minutes over medium heat in a six-quart pot, stirring often.

2. Add the onions, black pepper, and red pepper flakes, and cook for five minutes or so, stirring often. (The onions should soften but not burn.) Do not add any salt, as the hog jowls are salty enough in themselves to sufficiently salt the peas (but see the notes below).

3. Add the dried black-eyed peas and the water. (Despite what you may have read or heard, there is absolutely no reason to soak dried beans overnight, or for any length of time, for that matter.) Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to medium low. Partially cover the pot (the lid on my pot was just barely askew, so only a little bit of heat and steam could get out) and let the peas cook, stirring often, for two to three hours, or until the peas are tender and a thick gravy has formed. Serves 4-6.

A few notes. I do not salt my food as much as other people. I found that 2/3 pound of the cured jowls made for a pot that was almost too salty for my taste. Adjust the amount of jowls according to your tolerance for or love of salt, but keep in mind that if you use less than 2/3 pound of the jowls, what you lose in saltiness you will also lose in flavor from the fat. For me, 2/3 pound was just the right balance: 3/4 pound would have produced a pot that was too salty, whereas 1/2 pound would have produced a pot that was too lean. During the cooking you may need to add a quarter cup of water now and again to keep the peas from getting too dry. You may also need to adjust the heat: the peas should be bubbling but certainly not boiling and certainly not sticking to the bottom of the pot. (By the end of the cooking my burner was not even on 2.) If the peas are sticking to the bottom of the pot, either the heat is too high, there is not enough liquid in the pot, or both. You could serve the peas over a little bit of rice, but I did not, simply because I hadn't thought about cooking any rice and by the time the peas were done, I was too eager to eat, having tasted how delicious they were during the cooking.