The Whole Hog: Starting the New Year Right with Hoppin' John

As a native Bay Stater, daughter of a 15th generation Yankee father and a German immigrant mother, black-eyed peas did not figure prominently in my food experience. In fact, it was not until an accidental delivery of frozen hog jowls that I gave them much thought at all.

After finding the perfect recipe for Spaghetti Carbonara alla Romana, which calls for the cured but unsmoked Italian bacon called guanciale, (ooh, do you sense a future post coming on?) I ordered some from the Niman Ranch website. But what arrived was raw, frozen hog jowls - 20 pounds of them! When the nice customer service rep arranged to send me the missing guanciale, she declined to take back the (rapidly thawing) package of raw jowls. I seasoned them, Joel smoked them on the Weber, and I began asking around. What do you do with a windfall of smoked hog jowls?

That's when I learned from our neighbors, Betty and Jimmy, about Hoppin' John, a dish of black-eyed peas, stewed with smoked pork and served over rice. Betty and Jimmy are southern transplants, where eating this dish on New Year's Eve or Day is said to bring you good luck. Although you can make it with ham hocks, salt pork, or slab bacon, smoked hog jowls is traditional in Alabama, where Betty and Jimmy grew up. More recently, I learned from my friend Nina, who grew up in North Carolina, that you really need to eat this dish with stewed greens, because that will bring you "folding money" in the new year.

Hoppin' John is a dish which originated in the African-American community, with former slaves. The origin of the name "Hoppin' John" is quite obscure; many legends abound involving one-legged men named John, enthusiastic diners hopping to the table and the like, but the most compelling explanation I have come across involves the Haitian Creole word pois à pigeons (pigeon peas.)

There are many recipes out there, from the very simple to the not-quite-as-simple, and I have found all the different versions I have made to be tasty. However, this year's version, using part of a meaty smoked jowl from our pig, along with leftover ham and a ham-bone from last year's pig, was the tastiest I've made yet. The recipe has plenty of room to improvise, so please fee free.


Hoppin' John

(It goes without saying - although here I am saying it! - that as many of these ingredients should be organic as possible.)

1 lb (2 1/2 cups) black-eyed peas, picked over and rinsed
1 large bay leaf
1 small dried hot red chile, or 1/4 tsp red pepper flakes (or more to taste)
A ham bone - if you have one, ham removed and reserved
2-4 oz smoked hog jowl, chopped into 1/4" dice, or bacon
2 medium onions, chopped
4+ cloves garlic, minced (it's hard to add too much)
2-4 medium carrots, peeled and chopped
2-4 stalks celery, diced
Leftover ham, if you have it, chopped into nice chunks
Plenty of freshly ground black pepper, and salt to taste
1 TB Worcestershire sauce
1 TB Hot sauce
Cayenne to taste


(If you don't have any leftover ham or a bone, a nice big smoked ham hock brings a lot to the party. Many food-centric towns have meat artistes who are dedicated to sustainably raised meats; Fatted Calf of Napa sells at Berkeley and SF farmer's markets, e.g. Ask around.)

Serve with: cooked rice, a nice vinegary hot sauce (like Tobasco), collard, mustard or turnip greens, or kale, cooked separately.

Oh, and hot corn bread with butter! (I guess that needs to be the next post....)


A note on the rice: in general, I am a brown rice enthusiast. However, for this recipe, we splurged and had white rice, which has a much more neutral flavor. And you're already getting a ton of fiber from the peas...


If time permits, begin soaking your black-eyed peas the night before, or first thing in the morning, in water to cover by two inches. Or, use the quick-soak method: cover with two inches of water in a five or six quart, heavy stock pot, bring to a boil, boil for two minutes, then turn off the heat, cover the pot and let sit for an hour.

(If you will be using a ham hock, be aware that they take longer to cook than the peas do. You'll need to start cooking the hock separately in water 1 1/2 to 2 hours before you start cooking the peas, and then use the broth as your soup base. Then let them cool, remove and chop the meat, and discard the skin, bones and cartilage. Drain your peas, and add the broth and meat to the pot of peas, and begin following from the next steps.)

When your peas are ready to go, drain them (for sure if you are following the hock recipe, optionally if you are not.) Then cover them with water, and add the bay leaf, pepper, and ham bone if you have it. Bring it to a boil, then lower heat, cover, and simmer while you work on the other ingredients. If things get too dry, add a little more water.

Heat up a good sized frying pan over medium heat (cast iron is the best; throw away that toxic non-stick stuff!) and add your chopped hog jowl or bacon. When it's getting all nice and golden and rendering up some nice fat, add the onions and saute, stirring often, until they begin to get a little golden, too. Now add the carrots and celery and garlic, and do the same for them. Make sure they don't burn! Sprinkle on some salt to taste. When everything is beginning to turn a nice color and get tender, scrape the whole thing into your peas, and stir well. Now simmer it all until the peas are tender and the flavors are beginning to meld. Now would be a good time to add your chopped leftover ham, and the two sauces, and then let it all heat up and the flavors meld some more. Now taste it; does it need more salt, pepper, a shake or two of cayenne? Is it a little too thick? Add some water. Too thin? Take out a cup or so of the peas and mash them with the back of a fork, then add them back to the pot. When it's all just the way you like, take out the bay leaf and the ham bone - save it for your favorite dog - put a serving of rice in everyone's bowl, then a nice big helping of the black-eyed peas. When I made this on New Year's Day, everyone loved it, from my father in-law, who gave it his highest compliment: "I might not need to add any salt to this!" to our daughter, who ate the leftovers at every possible meal until it was gone.