In honor of the season, I have decided to appropriate for my own use our governor’s spiffy campaign slogan, “On Day One, Everything Changes,” because hell, *he’s* certainly not doing anything with it.
Gosh, you’re up bright and early and sound unnaturally cheerful. Pass the Hoppin’ John.
heeeee. Hoppin’ John is for later. I just made a batch of coffee-hazelnut scones. And I put a LOT of coffee in ‘em. ;)
Whoo baby, those are some nice peas. :) I love seeing all the different versions that people make. Yours are definitely a whole different animal than mine are, but yours are simply gorgeous. And you *will* be taking pictures of that bread, right?
sure, it’s still rising, put it on when i put the peas on around eight last night, lessee, that’s about 2? no, wait, maybe it was earlier...oh hell. i’ll take pictures.
do tell your recipe, yankee.
Recipe? Ahh, there’s the tricky bit. I don’t really have a recipe so much as a series of techniques and ingredients cobbled together from lots of sources. Much of what I know about hoppin’ John comes from a terrific book by Karen Hess, The Carolina Rice Kitchen: The African Connection. But let’s see if I can put a rough guide together…
Blackeyed peas, unsoaked. (For real. In general I’m nervous about not soaking, particularly since a batch of baked beans I made last month never got past al dente—I am NEVER quick-soaking Swedish brown beans again—but for reasons I’ve yet to ascertain, I can take blackeyed peas from dry to tender in less than 2 hours. Go fig.) Cover ‘em with about 2 1/2 inches of water, throw in a bay leaf and a pork product of some kind—a ham hock is best, but they’re hard to find in my neighborhood, so I usually use a piece of pancetta, which is both easy to find and cheap to buy in my nabe. Boil, uncovered, until tender. Add an equal weight of rice to beans—I usually use basmati rice—cover and steam until the rice is done. This makes a hoppin’ John that is dry, not soupy, with both the beans and the rice maintaining their structural integrity. I usually use a pound each of rice and beans, which makes an *enormous* pot that feeds us forever, but I have never, ever, ever had to throw out leftovers that have grown too old. :)
no no no, not in the same pot???? basmati rice? and no seasoning? what kind of damned black yankee plot is this??? (didn’t we do this last year?)
Honey, that’s what hoppin’ John *is*, beans and rice together—and no, this is no Yankee plot, but rather a recipe based on one shared with Karen Hess by a Geechee cook. And no, no other seasoning, because the ham seasons the beans.
Edit: I use basmati rice because most of the recipes I’ve read specify long-grain rice. Basmati is the long-grain rice I have on hand, because, again, it’s cheap and plentiful in my neighborhood, thanks to the presence of some swell little Indo/Pak groceries.
Seriously, e, if you can find The Carolina Rice Kitchen at your library, please do check it out. It will give some context to what, apparently, sounds like sheer madness. :)
no thanks, and that’s not what hoppin’ john “is”, mr. clinton. par example:
‘Hopping John seems long to have been associated with the meager cuisine of slavery. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the phrase is first attested in 1856 in A Journey in the Seaboard Slave States (page 506), one of a number of American travel books written by Frederick Law Olmsted, later to gain fame as the landscape architect who designed New York’s Central Park and the great Biltmore House in Asheville NC. He wrote that “the greatest luxury with which they [presumably the slaves somewhere] are acquainted is a stew of bacon and peas, with red pepper, which they call “Hopping John”.
Surfin’ the Net, I find one plausible explanation: that “Hoppin’ John” is an odd adaptation of the Creole French pois pigeons ‘pigeon peas’, pronounced pwah peeJON. It’s not too far from that to “hoppin’ John” (though why not “poppin’ John”, I wonder).’
it’s the peas, see. they’re always served with rice, of course, because what isn’t? and yes, i definitely rememer this from last year now. bon apetit!
Actually, e, the “pois pigeons” theory is controversial among culinary historians. But I’m not in the mood to argue with you about this, or about the merits of my own rice and peas, since they obviously offend your sensibilities so. I’m done. Happy New Year.
ah yes, there’s the yankee part.
I’ll settle this: ham hocks go with everything.
Heh heh. Happy New Year!
I’ll drink to that. :) Happy New Year, sir.