Ringin' in the New Year Right!

I'm sure every culture in the world has a way of celebrating the start of a new year, but here in the South, we like to ring it in with food, steeped in tradition and seasoned with a dash of superstition. As a child, I was told that midnight could not come and go without black-eyed peas, collard greens, and hog jowl. It sounds like a pretty weird combination, and it's one my mom desperately tried to avoid. That's why we, like many modern Southerns, usually ended up  with a combination more akin to cooked spinach, black-eyed peas, and ham. That's close enough and absolutely essential for starting the year right.

It’s interesting how these traditions started. Some stories say that Union soldiers looting their way across the South left only “animal fodder,” such as peas and greens, to sustain man and beast alike. Somewhere along the way, greens became symbolic of dollars and peas of coins, edible talismans for financial prosperity in the year to come.

Hog jowl is a fatty cut of pork from the cheek of a pig. Smoked or cured, it can be used to flavor both peas and greens or fried like bacon. The only honest to goodness hog jowl I've ever eaten was at Lambert's Cafe in Sikeston, Missouri (http://www.throwedrolls.com/), and it was pretty tasty. Eating rich pork products, like jowl, on New Year’s Eve is supposed to bring good luck for the future.

Another superstition is that cornbread should be eaten with the above meal to represent gold and further prosperity. I didn't hear this part of the New Year's tradition until I was grown, but as it happens, cornbread is the perfect complement to peas and greens. Lucky or not, it's welcome on my table any time.

New York can have their lighted ball and Pasadena their roses. Give me a bowl of hot greens and a kiss at midnight, and I’m set for another great year!

Happy New Year!

A Flippin' Good Time

I was standing over my stove this morning making pancakes and drinking my Ozark Float Trip coffee when I started thinking about the first time I ever made pancakes. I was in elementary school, and I was allowed to cook on the stove top for the first time. I remember standing on a stool and peering down on the griddle, counting the bubbles as they rose up through the batter. I can still feel myself staring so intently, trying to calculate exactly how many bubbles would mean a perfectly golden pancake and a mess-free flip. I also remember scraping the last few drops of batter from the bowl to make a scant mini-pancake for our family dachshund. (As a vet, I can't condone this now, but it seemed perfectly reasonable at the time.)

I'd like to believe that my cooking prowess has expanded somewhat since that first solo flight in the kitchen, but pancakes are still one my favorite comfort foods. Today's batch was particularly fun because it meant the debut my latest canning endeavor (homemade blueberry syrup) as well as my husband's venison breakfast sausage. The whole combination made for a perfect morning, but it also reminded me of the real beauty of pancakes. They are such a simple food, and yet, there are probably as many versions as there are families on planet earth. Even at my house, it's always changing....over-ripe bananas? Banana pancakes. Fresh blueberries in the freezer? Blueberry pancakes. Wanting something rich and decadent to start the day? Buttermilk pancakes. What? You don't keep buttermilk on hand? Meet my favorite baking cheat:

Evaporated buttermilk is a small miracle of modern cooking. One canister lasts for ages in your fridge, and you can pull it out any time a recipe calls for buttermilk. Just mix with water according to the ratio on the canister, and you're good to go. It isn't going to hit the spot if you're wanting to drink buttermilk, but baked into anything, it gives richness and flavor without pesky leftovers. (A shout-out to my mom for this tip!)

With the holidays upon us and pancakes on my mind, I thought I would share a great recipe for a potato pancakes. They are a fun, different item for breakfast, and the first time I made these for my husband said they were "what leftover mashed potatoes were meant to be." I'm guessing more than one person out there is going to end up with leftover mashed potatoes this Christmas, and this might come in handy.

Potato Pancakes
1 cup grated raw potato
1 cup leftover mashed potatoes
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
2 tsp salt
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 cup milk
1tsp dried rosemary, finely ground

Squeeze the raw potato in a clean tea towel to remove excess water. Mix all ingredients and spoon a scant 1/4 cup of the mixture into a hot, greased skillet, pressing out flat. Allow to cook until the bottom is golden brown and lifts easily from the pan. Turn the cake over. When both sides are browned, remove the cake from the skillet and place on a paper towel to drain. Serve potato cakes with honey for breakfast or with stew.

 Photos by Jenn Ballard