Here in the South New Year's Day means black-eyed peas. Even if you don't particularly care for them, you eat a few anyway, just for good measure. Kind of like knocking on wood. You know it's a silly superstition, but what if Mama was really right? I have a little pot on the stove right now. As I stood and stirred them, watching them gently roll around in their hot soup, I thought about all the New Years of my past eating black-eyed peas at the tables of the wonderful cooks in my life.
Particularly I think of my mother-in-law, who always called on the morning of January 1st and said, "Come by when you can today. I have a pot of black-eyed peas, a mess of greens, and some cornbread. You need to eat a bite for good luck". And we always stopped by.
And you know what? Some years were better than others, but we've always had pretty good luck.
Now she isn't able to cook the peas anymore, but I will take her some today and feel blessed and hopeful for the New Year.
