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New Year’s Black-Eyed Peas with Ham Hock -- Every Last Bit of Luck

New Year. 2018. The year my son goes to war. I don't know that for certain — he hasn't shipped yet, hasn't finished Basic, hasn't been assigned anywhere — but the trajectory is set and the destination is clear: Clay is going. Somewhere. Into something. And 2018 is the year it begins.

I made black-eyed peas, same as last year. The tradition. The luck. Except this year the luck feels more urgent, more necessary, less like a charming superstition and more like a negotiation with forces I don't control. I soaked the peas overnight and cooked them with a ham hock and an onion and served them over rice with cornbread and collard greens and I thought: if food-based luck is real, let it all go to Clay. Every pea, every bit of luck, send it all to wherever they send him. I'll take the unlucky year. I'll take all the unlucky years. Just keep him safe.

Connie and I had The Talk on Saturday. Not with Clay — with each other. The talk about logistics. Clay graduates in June. He ships to Fort Benning for Basic in July. Ten weeks of Basic. Then Advanced Individual Training. Then assignment. The timeline is approximately nine months from now. Nine months. The same amount of time it takes to make a person, it takes to transform that person into a soldier. The symmetry is cruel.

We talked about what we can do, which is: nothing. We can't change his mind. We tried. Connie tried directly — "Think about EKU, Clay, think about the scholarship" — and Clay listened respectfully and didn't change his mind. I tried indirectly, through silences and meaningful pauses and an extra-long visit to Earl's grave that I thought might make a point about mortality. Clay went with me to the grave, stood in the cold, and said "Grandpa Earl would understand." He's right. Earl would understand. Earl went into the mountain every day for thirty-four years because it was his mountain and his work and his duty. Clay sees the Army the same way. The mountain is just in a different country.

Connie cried on Saturday night. Not quietly, not the controlled crying of previous weeks. She cried the way people cry when they've been holding it in and the container finally breaks. I held her. I didn't say it would be okay because I don't know if it will be okay. I said "I'm here." That's what I have. Presence. The same thing Earl offered. The same thing I offer. Not wisdom, not solutions, not the ability to prevent pain. Just: I'm here. In the kitchen, in the bedroom, in the dark. Here.

This is the recipe I made that New Year’s Day—the one where every pea felt like a prayer I was sending ahead of Clay to wherever the Army would take him. It’s nothing fancy. Ham hock, onion, dried peas soaked overnight, the way my mother did it and her mother before that. But when your boy is headed to Basic and you can’t do a single thing to change the trajectory, you cook the luck food and you mean it harder than you’ve ever meant anything in your life.

New Year’s Black-Eyed Peas with Ham Hock

Prep Time: 15 minutes (plus overnight soak) | Cook Time: 2 hours | Total Time: 2 hours 15 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 1 pound dried black-eyed peas, sorted and rinsed
  • 1 large smoked ham hock (about 1 pound)
  • 1 large yellow onion, diced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 6 cups water or chicken broth
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
  • 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
  • Cooked white rice, for serving

Instructions

  1. Soak the peas. Place the sorted and rinsed black-eyed peas in a large bowl and cover with water by 3 inches. Soak overnight, at least 8 hours. Drain and rinse before cooking.
  2. Build the base. In a large Dutch oven or heavy pot over medium heat, add the ham hock, diced onion, and garlic. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onion begins to soften.
  3. Combine and simmer. Add the drained black-eyed peas, water or broth, bay leaves, salt, black pepper, smoked paprika, and cayenne. Stir to combine. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to a low simmer. Cover with the lid slightly ajar.
  4. Cook low and slow. Simmer for 1-1/2 to 2 hours, stirring occasionally, until the peas are tender and the liquid has thickened into a rich, smoky pot liquor. If the liquid reduces too quickly, add 1/2 cup of water at a time.
  5. Finish the ham. Remove the ham hock from the pot. Pull the meat from the bone, discarding the skin, fat, and bone. Shred or chop the meat and stir it back into the peas.
  6. Season and serve. Remove the bay leaves. Stir in the apple cider vinegar and adjust salt and pepper to taste. Serve over cooked white rice with cornbread and collard greens on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 280 | Protein: 22g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 38g | Fiber: 7g | Sodium: 620mg

Craig Hensley
About the cook who shared this
Craig Hensley
Week 93 of Craig’s 30-year story · Lexington, Kentucky
Craig is a retired coal miner from Harlan County, Kentucky — a man who spent twenty years underground and seventeen hours trapped in a collapsed tunnel before he was twenty-four. He moved his family to Lexington when the mine closed, learned to cook his mama Betty's Appalachian recipes from memory because she never wrote them down, and now he's trying to get them on paper before they're lost. He says "reckon" and "fixing to" and means both. His bourbon-glazed ribs are, according to his wife Connie, "acceptable" — which is the highest praise she gives.

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