Black-Eyed Peas and a wink to the North

I'm officially a Southerner. Not just a Texan, but a Southerner because I'm making black-eyed peas for tomorrow.

This is something I really didn't understand when I first met The Dave. Even before we were married, he insisted we go to his parents' on January first and eat black-eyed peas. I was clueless. And hungover. And confused. Mostly hungover.

To sum up, everyone "down here" eats black-eyed peas on New Years' Day. It's a superstitious thing, but no one will say so. They just say it's "tradition" and "it's just what we do" but it's a good old pagan thing, as far as I'm concerned.

I love all things pagan. I also love my in-laws, who reject all outward signs of religion--their Christianity, specifically. There are no crosses displayed in their home. The only angels displayed are usually playing violins and usually a gift from my mom. For the record, there's also no crosses in their church. It's part of their dogma. Which they insist isn't dogma. But I won't get dogmatic at you right now.

This black-eyed pea thing--it represents abundance, or wealth, or fruitfulness or whatever in the coming year. I guess we're supposed to also eat collard greens, which represents folding money, but I don't quite picture myself making collard greens so I'll just eat some romaine lettuce instead. Oh, there's supposed to be pork, too, so the peas will be made in stock from the ham bone from Christmas. If the peas are the coins and the greens are the dollars, I don't know what the pork is supposed to be, but I know the peas would taste really bland without it.

It's really funny how my in-laws, with a very deliberate avoidance of any outward representation of their religion, always faithfully participate in this annual pagan ritual that's all about money.

So I'm making black-eyed peas. Because it's just what we do down here.