I don’t usually eat anything with the name “pea” in it. It’s a leftover trauma from my childhood that has turned me against them. For some reason, though, I had bought a bag of dried black eyed peas. I think I was pretending that they could stand in for beans. I soak them and cook them and taste them. I am not impressed. Plus their cooking liquid looks like dark gray sludge. It is not a hopeful beginning. I bargain for time and ask if can’t we please have takeout Chinese for last night’s meal? Yes, I can. The Chinese food turns out to be not very good. I am hoping they have not changed chefs again.
Tonight we must eat the black eyed peas. I saute up a little turkey sausage and add the usual vegetables. I relieve the peas of their sludge and add chicken stock. I put in a fresno chile and a little vinegar for some zip and brightness. Voila, the stew is now better than just edible.
I do not think black-eyed peas will be on my regular rotation but with a loaf of crusty bread, some good olive oil and a glass of wine, I am definitely willing to eat them tonight.