FABLES OF THE RECONSTRUCTION

Word is luck's necessarily linked to few foodstuffs: Greens, peas, pork. Times are few when one’s charm is not only edible, but also shared by millions of people on very same day: New Year’s. Chalk this up to mass insanity. Or simply nothing better to do.

Heard stories what for? Some even make modest sense. Thing about black-eyed peas producing nitrogen, enriching the soil, allowing for fertile yield following year. Civil War story... On New Year’s Eve yesteryear and a week, Union soldiers raided Confederate food supply. Took everything save dried black-eyes, greens, salt pork. Come New Year’s Day, all Johnny Reb had to nosh were peas, greens, pork, and considered himself lucky for it. Finally there's the humility story: Eat poor today, so you can eat rich the rest of the year.

Nitrogen bit is true; don’t know 'bout Civil War bit. Take issue with the so-called humility story, I do. Greens and peas are “poor” food? Greens, dried peas, spot of smoked pork don’t cost a lot, sure. Not the point. Said foodstuffs are slow-cooked items. Take hours to prepare and it’s easy to mud up the making. Got to know what if you're to turn out a good batch of peas and greens. And this, friends, is where jowls come jigglin' in.

(Who wants to eat a "jowl?” Why is it fish eggs get to be called “caviar,” but jowls remain the same?It’s a goddamn shame. Good as Gideon and they have their own bit of lore attached.)

A hog’s jowls – and any other cut of pork – are popular as New Year’s is a time to look forward. South GA pig farmers will tell you for a penny and a pinch: A hog cannot look back. Seasoning up greens with bacon or salt pork can't cut it. Salt pork makes pot liquor too greasy. Bacon isn’t strong enough to season a deep pot of greens. Jowls are honest, logical choice.

Always determined to make the traditional spread and increase my chance for some good fortune. Everyone else in GA has the same idea, too. It's best to look often and look early to secure items. Found my hog jowl at Webb's Thriftown, Middle GA's de facto pork paradise. Sought greens at Piggly Wiggly. Lifeless, limp mess. I inquired. Produce manager whispered. I huddled with three negresses. They broke said huddle and gave produce manager what for. Thank goodness guns were far from the aisle as tempers flared and spat. A later drive secured two bushels greens, one hefty free-range, organic chick and a string of local sausages culled from hogs farmed and killed dead in Covington.

Procedure began last New Year's spent in Savannah. Long night at Pinky Masters and longer early morn spent with Maker's, Miller High Life, Waylon and Willie brought a need medicinal and psychological for cures what ails you. A prophetic stop 'n' shop at coastal grocer netted similar items and I spent the morning nursing two fingers of dog hair and stirring greens, peas. Chicken and sausage browned caramel and potted. Two cups long white rice over top. Handful of herbs over top: Whatever's at hand - parsely, dill, mint all good. Not water but cooking liquid from the greens added slow - ladle to ladle. Rice takes on taste of chicken, sausage. No better. Bowl games. Big, goosedown bed. More of the hair of that dog that bit you.

Remove chicken and sausage to platter. Serve rice separately. Greens, peas, jowls. Salt over shoulder, canned beer, hot sauce. A knod 'n' gesture - reconstruction of said fables.