The black-eyed variety. In our neck of the Hill Country, it's a long-standing rule that the natives must eat black-eyed peas between midnight on the first day of the new year and 11:59 PM of the same day. This is to ensure that we all have good luck for another 12 months -- at which time, we must again immunize ourselves against the funky fickle finger of fate with another oral dose of black-eyed peas.
Naturally, if good luck isn't a concern for you, there's no point in forcing yourself to swallow. (After all, those little black eyes watch you the whole time you scoop them up and shove them in. Once, I think I even heard them scream.) And if, like me, you're not really a native, but a transplant, then you must weigh the folklore for yourself and decide if it's worth the possibility of fracturing that mirror just when you got all your bills paid. The redneck jury is still out on whether seven years of bad luck can be trumped by legumes with peep holes, but why take chances?
Me, I generally follow the rules, if not the superstitions (unless I don't like them). So today, as I do on this day every year, I will eat my black-eyed peas. It's an acquired taste that's taken me, oh, about 20 years to acquire. To prevent gagging (and feeling guilty), I enjoy my good-luck fiber in a savory dish called Texas Caviar. It's actually quite tasty, and since one can never be too careful with lucky breaks, I won't be shy about getting seconds.
What about you? Double or nothin'? Or shall I pass the black-eyed peas?
Fire nipples
1 day ago
