My Grandpa was exactly like Doc "Moonlight" Graham in Field of Dreams.  Same genteel mannerisms, calm demeanor, warm disposition and oh yeah - they wore the same type hat.  When I got into Southern Cooking, after I read "The Witching Hour" by Anne Rice in my early twenties (a book which also inspired me to change my major from Lit to History), I started making black-eyed peas on New Years Day for Grandpa.  He was from Texas, but Oklahoma and Kentucky are in there somewhere.  He loved southern food and added Tabasco to everything...everything.  My husband does the same.  That vinegary, eye watering smell doesn't lure me to top all of my food with heat, but it smells familiar and American.

So, I made black-eyed peas for the better part of ten years before Grandpa died.  Pete (hubby) loved them so much, and I believe in starting the new year off with a little luck, so I kept making them.  Why not?  Grandpa is still here in spirit, Field of Dreams is always on during the holidays, and southern cooking just feels right.  I frequent bistros, I adore trattorias - but nothing says home like low country food.  I wish I could send some to the men and women serving far, far away.

So anyway, I have always followed black-eyed pea recipes from my two hundred southern cooking cookbooks or downloaded something with five stars next to it on the recipe websites.  But two days ago when we went to the grocery store, those f*****s that call themselves savvy retailers were all sold out of bags of black-eyed peas.  Way to be prepared! I muttered under my breath in aisle fourteen.  Shit.  Plan B.

Grabbed three cans of black-eyed peas.  Improvisation is the test of a skilled home cook, and I could do this - although I was teary eyed the rest of the shopping trip because the savvy retailer f*****s had failed me, my Grandpa, hubby, and put a glitch in my family tradition.

("Never, NEVER **** with a winning streak") ~ Crash Davis.  I digress.

When I grabbed two packages of pancetta for the tomato soup I planned on making, I had a great idea for the peas.  I decided to follow my home cooking instinct.  Create a new dish...I thought, refine an old tradition, you won't negate the luck scenario, you'll probably end up with a new, personal recipe that will be all yours, and the tradition will remain intact.  Although I wanted to mutter a few expletives at the front end manager, I was infused with hope and vigor as I waited for New Years Day to make black-eyed peas the 2007 I waited to long to shop way.

After I looked through one of my new cookbooks while drinking my coffee this morning and my husband yelled at the Auburn quarterback, Zoe and I sauteed pancetta in extra virgin olive oil.  Then we added diced sweet onion.  Then freshly minced garlic, a heaping tablespoon of tomato paste, a bay leaf, and the three cans of peas with two cups of chicken broth.  We brought the peas to a boil then simmered for ten minutes.

Grandpa would have loved them!  I don't usually eat them but Pete and I have each had two bowls, I ran some over to the neighbors, my picky son ate a bowl (with Tabasco =), and the baby ate two helpings after her nap.  I've learned a thing or two in the kitchen and the best results occur when I follow my instincts. 

This year, with a little luck, my instincts won't be wrong.