Anger Burger

Southerners don’t need an excuse to have a feast, but they take a kind of twisted delight in pretending like they do.  My fraternal grandmother, Evelyn, was famous for frying 30 pounds of chicken on Sundays  – of course, each Sunday about a dozen people other than family would also just coincidentally show up.  And that was just a Sunday.  Imagine what she did on Easter or the 4th of July.

New Years ranks up there as a feasting holiday¹, and while I may not have personally grown up in the South, I can’t imagine starting off the new year without a big pot of black-eyed peas, collard greens and a screaming hot iron skillet of cornbread.

Each Southern cook will also quickly assure you that their recipe is the most authentic one.  It’s kind of a tradition.  For every family that has a heart-attack if you put sugar in their cornbread, there will be another family who spits out unsweetened stuff.  And while you might imagine that black-eyed peas and collards can’t be made without ham in them, I promise that granny Evelyn made my dad special pots of vegetarian peas and collards every year, and lord help you if you told her she was making them wrong.  You’d have pinch marks on your arms for the rest of your life.

What few alterations I’ve made over the years are made from love and from my DNA-gifted right to claim that my recipes are more correct than anyone else’s.  For example, grandma didn’t use frozen black-eyed peas, but I’d use nothing else.  She also would have frowned at putting good balsamic vinegar in the greens rather than dosing them heavily with chili vinegar just as they’re done cooking, but what can I say.  I’m right and she’s wrong.

Anecdotally, every year I forget to go shopping for the black-eyed peas and collards until midday into the new year, and this year was right on schedule.  At 3pm I panicked, threw my pops in the car with me and we raced off to Olympia’s Westside Top Foods to get our groceries — only to discover that they never carried frozen black-eyed peas and were sold out of both canned (blech) and dried.  Defeated, I decided to make pintos and then discovered that Top was also sold out of all greens.  That’s right.  No fucking mustard greens, kale, collards or chard.  Oh hell no.

Safeway came to the rescue.  They had actual collards, which shocked me, and a whole freezer shelf stocked with frozen black-eyed peas.  In a moment of exuberant success, my dad also purchased a 10lb. frozen lasagna.  He lives alone.  Any single ladies in the Olympia area looking for a silver fox with a nearly unlimited supply of lasagna?  This offer won’t last long.

While this meal is traditionally eaten on New Years to promote prosperity and good luck, I don’t see any harm in encouraging prosperity and good luck all year round.

Vegetarian Black-Eyed Peas
if you can’t find frozen (or even fresh!) black-eyed peas, don’t get the canned stuff, get dried ones.  the canned ones are alright for certain things, but when making a pot of just peas, it’s important that they have plenty of time to simmer in a flavorful broth.

1 lb. bag frozen black-eyed peas
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 onion, diced
4 cloves of garlic, chopped fine
1 large carrot, peeled and diced
3-4 cups of good vegetable broth (I actually prefer Swanson’s over anything else)
3 bay leaves
salt & pepper

• In a medium saucepan, saute the onions and garlic over medium heat until lightly softened, about 3 minutes.  Add the frozen peas, the bay leaves, and enough broth to just cover the peas.  Bring to a low simmer and allow to cook uncovered for about 20 minutes.  Check on it occasionally, just in case.  For example, just in case you’re not used to your dad’s crazy induction cooktop and you keep scorching the bejesus out of shit.

• Salt to taste – it will almost certainly need more, black-eyed peas are a notorious black hole for salt, but go slow and add the last amount of salt just before serving.  I used almost two tablespoons of kosher salt in this recipe.

• Add the diced carrots and continue to cook over low heat for another 30-40 minutes.  I like my peas nice and soft, so I go for upwards of 1 1/2 hours total (even with these frozen peas).

• If you’re so inclined (I am), just before serving, take a large spoon and mash up some of the peas to thicken the broth a little bit and give the whole thing a more interesting texture.

Vegetarian Collard Greens
collards are a little bitter by nature (hardly any at all, don’t panic) and are much tastier when balanced out with a little sweetness and sourness, which is where the balsamic vinegar comes in.  if you’ve never had them before, you should really try them – they are meatier than kale and need almost an hour of cooking, but I think they’re worth it.  also, and no kidding: one giant bundle will only feed two people – really.  like spinach, it will seem like its enough to feed eighteen people, but I swear it’ll only feed two.

1 bunch fresh collard greens
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. butter
1 Tbsp. balsamic vinegar
salt
1/2 C. juice from the black-eyed peas, if you’ve got it

• Prepare the collards by washing them thoroughly in cold water and snapping the thickest parts of the stems off (and throwing them away).  Cut the collards up by rolling a few leaves into a tube and then slicing it into about 1-inch pieces.

• In a medium saucepan, heat the oil and butter over medium heat.  Add collards, adding just a few handfuls at a time and stirring to deflate them before adding a few more handfuls.

• Add about 1 tsp. of salt or so.  It will probably need more, but you can wait until serving.

• If you’ve got it, add about 1/2 cup of the liquid from the black-eyed peas and turn the heat down to a low simmer.  If you don’t have it, you can add a splash of water (maybe a 1/4 cup) but it won’t be as good.  Keep an eye on it and cook for 30 minutes, uncovered, stirring occasionally.

• Add 2 teaspoons of balsamic vinegar and stir through.  Cook another 15 minutes.

• Before serving, add 1 more teaspoon (making a tablespoon of vinegar total) and stir through.

Totally Authentic Southern Cornbread
grandma always used Albers cornmeal, and always used the Albers recipe.

1 C. cornmeal
1 C. flour
1/4 C. sugar
1 Tbsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt
1 C. whole milk
1/3 C. vegetable oil
1 egg

• Preheat oven to 400°.  Oil an 8 or 9-inch cast iron skillet with a few spoonfuls of canola or other unflavored oil.

• In a bowl, mix together the cornmeal, flour, sugar, baking powder and salt.  Add the milk, vegetable oil and egg.  Stir together until combined and pour into pan and bake for 20-25 minutes.

• When top of the cornbread is puffed and golden brown, remove from oven and serve immediately.

• Note: my grandmother preheated the cast iron pan in the oven as it warmed, pouring the cornbread batter into the sizzlin’ hot pan and then putting the whole burn-bomb back into the oven.  This made a really crispy, practically deep-fried bottom to the cornbread that is a Southern specialty.  I liked this as a child, but I find it to be unnecessary as an adult.  She also greased the pan with a few big spoonfuls of Crisco, which I don’t recommend for those who value their health.

¹ This is terribly redundant.  All holidays are Feasting Holidays to a Southerner.