It Must Be New Year's Somewhere

This week, I shook the dust of the small town from my feet and headed for the big city. San Francisco! The Golden Gate! The shops! The restaurants! The museums! Things that were once a daily experience have become an exciting adventure now that I'm retired.

The BART train was familiar, although now I was carrying my iPad and feeling very high techie as I scrolled through a downloaded book instead of my erstwhile paperbacks. The streets of the city haven't changed - most people still wear black, a conceit I have never understood when there is all that other rainbow of colors to choose from. I guess the people of San Francisco are rainbow enough.

And they certainly are. Living in a small town, one forgets the true meaning of "diversity," but I was joyfully reminded of it as I jaywalked my way toward the SFMOMA to see the Stein family exhibit. I have missed my city by the bay, I was just so content that I didn't realize it until I was there.

It was an interesting art show - if you live locally or are coming for a visit soon, you should go. It's so worth it, for the Matisses alone. That guy knew color with a capital C. Marvelous. The Picassos were interesting, too, but in my view he was a better sculptor than a painter and I think he was just kidding but no one got the joke, so he kept making more and more outlandish art and selling it for increasingly outlandish prices.

After the show, I met my pal Sari for a birthday lunch (hers) at the café in Nordstroms. When I was working, this was a favorite spot for me and My Beloved - very convenient after work, always a pleasantly restful atmosphere and really good food, reasonably priced. I showed Sari the pictures I took at Katie's wedding, she filled me in about her swoony boyfriend and we had lovely lunches. Mine was Hoppin' John, a surprise to me at this time of year, but I figure it's New Year's in some culture around the world, right?

Anyway, New Year's or midsummer, it was really good. You'll laugh, but this is the first honest-to-goodness Hoppin' John I've ever eaten. I have heard about it on the blogs and from my Southern friends. I have made a version myself, but it wasn't like this. This version was similar to risotto - the rice was a little gooey and flavored with Parmesan cheese - and the black-eyed peas studded it like sassy little winks throughout. A few fresh herbs were mixed in and it was topped with a sprinkle of finely grated lemon zest. Topped with crisp, salty lardons that added texture and a hint of richness to the dish. I scooped up every last grain and pea, boosting my good luck for the second half of the year.

Southern Comfort

I'm more or less a stranger to Southern cooking - most Southern dishes weren't served in my house when I was growing up and only recently have I gotten interested in trying some. You may have noticed, and even remarked upon, the number of grits posts I've written recently. Here's a new twist, Blackeyed peas.

Aren't they pretty? I thought I'd show them to you before they got cooked, as they changed to rather boring browneyed peas once I cooked them. Not pretty at all. But, really, quite delicious.

The package directions said to soak them for a long time before cooking but one of the character flaws my teachers always remarked upon was my lack of patience. "Pamela needs to learn to be more careful." "Pamela is impatient sometimes." You get the drift.

So, I just sautéed some chopped onion and sliced garlic in olive oil in the bottom of a big pot, added the rinsed peas to the pot, covered the veggies with a mixture of half water and half vegetable broth, and set them to boil. I had purchased a smoked ham shank the day before and asked the butcher to cut it into three pieces. When the beans reached a boil, I lowered the heat and added shank to the pot. All this simmered together for a couple of hours, the beans softening and losing their stark black "eyes," the ham slowly breaking apart to spread its smoky richness all through the pot.

Served over brown Massa rice, it was truly comfort food, solid, sustaining and deep-down warming. We did find it ever so slightly bland, even with black pepper added at the table, until My Beloved hit on the idea of adding a little of Chilebrown's fiery hot sauce, dot by dot, and that made all the difference. The slight hint of heat and the richness of flavor turned Southern comfort into something lively and unexpected.