Hoppin’ John Menu for 6
The Menu
Hoppin’ John
Hot, cooked rice
Cornbread and butter
Montgomery Mocha Tea Cakes
The Recipes
Why do they call it Hoppin’ John?
http://members.aol.com /RSRICHMOND/hoppingjohn.html
On New Years Day, people here and there all over the South, eat black eyed peas and rice and call the mixture "Hopping John" (often written "Hoppin' John".) Over the years I have eaten hopping John with good friends in the kitchen, been served it from chafing dishes by well-off San Antonio ladies three sheets to the wind, and walked into a roadside restaurant in Maryland with a can of black eyed peas and asked to be indulged. Somebody at the table always asks "Why do they call it hopping John?" and nobody ever knows why.
Hopping John seems long to have been associated with the meager cuisine of slavery. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the phrase is first attested in 1856 in A Journey in the Seaboard Slave States (page 506), one of a number of American travel books written by Frederick Law Olmsted, later to gain fame as the landscape architect who designed New York's Central Park and the great Biltmore House in Asheville NC. He wrote that "the greatest luxury with which they [presumably the slaves somewhere] are acquainted is a stew of bacon and peas, with red pepper, which they call "Hopping John".
Surfin' the Net, I find one plausible explanation: that "Hoppin' John" is an odd adaptation of the Creole French pois pigeons 'pigeon peas', pronounced pwah peeJON. It's not too far from that to "hoppin' John" (though why not "poppin' John", I wonder).
The OED offers some support for what I think is an equally likely origin of the word, recording a statement by an otherwise anonymous Hardy (not the novelist, who lived somewhat later) in 1843 that "These feasts, or as they are called elsewhere in Northumberland, hoppings, are held on the festival of the patron saint."
New Years Day follows less than a week after the feast of St. John the Evangelist (the traditional author of the Gospel and Epistles of John and of Revelation) on December 27th. The feast of the other Biblical John, St. John the Baptist, comes at the other end of the year, on June 24th. Thus marking the two solstices, the festivals of the two saints John are thought of in traditional calendar lore as the two supporting points of the year.
Some northern European peoples say that the Sun is seen to dance at the winter solstice, at the time when it is seen at the farthest point to the south, and begins its return northward. Could this dance have occasioned the name of this homely dish?
I think we shall never really know.
Hoppin’ John
(Bob and Leila Dailey of Bedford, Indiana)
(For vegetarian, leave out the chicken.)
2 T. vegetable oil
2 chicken breasts, de-boned and de-skinned sliced thinly into medallion sizes
2 large sweet onions-cut in narrow wedges
2 large green bell peppers-cut in narrow wedges
2 cans (undrained) black-eyed peas
2 cans diced tomatoes (undrained)
salt and pepper to taste
Place oil into large skillet. Sauté chicken medallions until no raw chicken remains. Add onions and peppers and continue sautéing until the raw vegetables are tender, but not browned. Add the black-eyed peas and tomatoes and stir well. Bring to a boil and then turn the heat to simmer. Simmer, covered, for at least 30 minutes so the flavors can meld and the peas can soften more.
Serve over hot, cooked rice.
A large slab of cornbread and butter is also served with this.
A Snack for Hard Times
http://www.mindspring.com/~t omc/cornbred.htm
When my mother was a kid, during the Great Depression, cornbread was a snack, she told me. I think she used to tell my sisters and me this to get us not to eat so many candy bars and drink so many Cokes. She said she just couldn't wait to come home from school in the afternoons and pour herself a tall glass of buttermilk and then dips a piece of cornbread in it. And then eat it! (I've even heard that some people put black-eyed peas, onions, and turnip greens down in a glass of buttermilk and stir up this noxious concoction before adding cornbread
Food of Princesses
But consumed as it was meant to be--piping hot and moist, buttered and slightly crispy--cornbread is the perfect complement to any meal. I can just imagine Princess Di in happier times at the table with Charles, Elizabeth, Philip, and the rest of the gang, saying,
"This pâté de foie gras simply cries out for cornbread! Haven't we any?"
Until recently--even though I had many times experienced the sheer culinary ecstasy of lightly browned, thick-crumbed, golden cornbread--I had never been able to successfully cook it myself. It would always turn out nicely crusted on the outside but soggy on the inside. After several failed experiments, I finally just assumed that the making of perfect cornbread was an art I was never to master. I just hadn't inherited the Cornbread Gene.
But when I was back home for Christmas this past year, my mother made us all a couple of batches of cornbread so fantastic that I just had to ask her to impart the secrets of this manna. Others have overcome more serious disabilities. Perhaps I could learn from her and thus no longer be cornbread-challenged.
"Sure," she said. "There's nothing to it."
Right.
Like there's nothing to hang gliding, or correctly setting the timer on the VCR.
The rest of the time I was at my parents' house, I kept forgetting to get her to write it down for me. When I got back to Atlanta, the weather turned cold, and with a big pot of lentil soup in the offing, I had to give cornbread another chance.
The Secret Is Revealed
I called my mother up, and she gave me the recipe over the phone.
I tried it.
You're not going to believe this, but it turned out perfectly the first time!
Perfectly. Well, almost.
But compared to my earlier pitiful flops, this seemed like perfection to me. It had a lovely crust, although a couple of shades too dark perhaps, with a finely pocked surface--the classic cornbread texture. It crumbled nicely, it was a lovely yellow on the inside, and it tasted...well, not too bad.
The problem was that I had been hoarding a limp bag of corn meal in the refrigerator for about two years, hoping that some divine force would smite me like a thunderbolt, rendering me suddenly and miraculously capable of cooking perfect cornbread. Until then, the bag would sit near the back of the second shelf.
So actually to call my first almost-perfect batch of cornbread "not too bad," would be a bit charitable. It was tolerable, but certainly not good. I learned a valuable lesson that day:
Stale corn meal doth not a perfect cornbread make.
I've made cornbread two or three times since then, and each time it's gotten a little better. I know I'll never be able to make it as well as my mother. But at least, in my little kitchen, I can now make cornbread that does melt in one's mouth.
Buttermilk Cornbread Recipe
You're going to be making this in a cast-iron skillet, so if all you have is one of those wimpy frying pans with a wooden or plastic handle, you've got to make a trip to the store.
Where can you find a good cast-iron skillet? According to alert reader Mike Moore of Delray Beach, Florida, you can buy one from any Ace Hardware store or a kitchen store. I guess you might find one somewhere else as well, like an enlightened kitchen equipment store (if they can carry devices to pit cherries and seed cucumbers, surely they can stock something as basic and necessary as a cast-iron skillet.
If you're really getting into this, you'll want to check out my basic information on the care and feeding of skillets. http://tomc.home.mindspring. com/skillets.htm
But wait a minute--we were about to fix some cornbread, weren't we? Okay, I'm going to give you proportions for two basic kinds of skillets:
• 9-inch divided skillet
• Big skillet (mine is 10 inches across and about 2 inches deep)
You might also be able to get your hands on a corn-stick pan--one of those little things that have a row of half-cylinders, possibly even shaped like corn ears. Those are not only cute, but they also have the practical advantage of providing more crust in each bite. Yum! If you have one of those, use the proportions listed for the 9-inch skillet.
9-inch Divided Skillet or Corn-Stick Pan
1/2 egg
9/10 cup buttermilk
2 tbsp. vegetable or olive oil
*1 scant cup self-rising cornmeal mix
1/2 tsp. salt (optional)
Big Skillet
1 egg
1 4/5 cups buttermilk
4 tbsp. vegetable or olive oil
*2 scant cups self-rising cornmeal mix—[This is Jiffy Cornbread Mix]
1 tsp. salt (optional)
*If you don't have self-rising cornmeal, you can use regular cornmeal plus 1/2 tsp. baking soda and 1 tsp. baking powder (double those amounts if you're making the Big Skillet quantity).
1. Pre-heat the oven to 500 degrees.
2. Beat the egg in a medium-to-large-sized bowl.
3. Add the buttermilk and oil. Mix.
4. Add salt (optional, and not at all necessary).
5. Gradually add the cornmeal, and stir just until blended.
6. Coat the inside of the skillet with about 1 tbsp. of oil. Heat it on an eye of the stove until it smokes. By now the oven should be good and hot, too.
7. Pour the batter into the skillet. It will give off a satisfying sizzle.
8. Put the skillet into the oven. (This is why you can't use one with a plastic or wooden handle.)
9. Check on the cornbread after about 15 minutes, and keep looking at it every minute or two. Opening the oven door lets out a lot of the heat really fast, so just look through the glass window if your oven door has one; if it's old and dingy like mine, use a flashlight.
When it's done the cornbread should be a lovely golden brown, and a knife inserted in it should come out clean. It should take 20 minutes at the most.
How to Consume Cornbread
Serve hot. Slather with butter or margarine. Best served with southern "soul food," pot likker, vegetables, or soup.
How to Consume Cornbread (Alternate)
Pour yourself a tall glass of buttermilk, dip the cornbread in, take a bite, and...
Still Haven't Had Enough?
My mother's is the only cornbread recipe you'll ever really need, but if you're compelled to try some other ones, check out these links:
Index of /recipes/cornbreads (FATFREE: The Low Fat Vegetarian Archive)
http://www.fatfree.com/recipes /cornbreads/
Cornbread Recipes from Veggies Unite! ("Your On-Line Guide to Vegetarianism"
http://vegweb .com/recipes/bread/index-bread-cornbread.shtml
Cornbread Recipes from About.com
http://southernfood.about.com/library/recipes/bl040697.htm?once=true&
Montgomery Mocha Tea Cakes
2 sticks margarine
2 cups flour
6 tablespoons milk
1 cup coffee
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
8 tablespoons cocoa
2 eggs
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup sour cream
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 box 10x powdered sugar
Boil margarine, coffee and 4 tablespoons cocoa. Don't let stick or burn. Take off stove. In bowl put 2 cups flour, 2 cups sugar, 1/2 teaspoon of salt. Blend and add to pot. Beat in 2 eggs, 1/2 cup sour cream, and 1 teaspoon baking soda. Grease sheet cake pan. Cook for 20 minutes at 350F.
Icing: boil in a pot, 1 stick margarine, 4 tablespoons cocoa, and 6 tablespoons milk. Take off stove and beat in 1 box powdered sugar, 1 teaspoon vanilla extract.
Spread icing over cooled cake and top with chopped pecans or cherry pie filling. Cut into small squares and put in fancy cupcake foils.
The Menu
Hoppin’ John
Hot, cooked rice
Cornbread and butter
Montgomery Mocha Tea Cakes
The Recipes
Why do they call it Hoppin’ John?
http://members.aol.com /RSRICHMOND/hoppingjohn.html
On New Years Day, people here and there all over the South, eat black eyed peas and rice and call the mixture "Hopping John" (often written "Hoppin' John".) Over the years I have eaten hopping John with good friends in the kitchen, been served it from chafing dishes by well-off San Antonio ladies three sheets to the wind, and walked into a roadside restaurant in Maryland with a can of black eyed peas and asked to be indulged. Somebody at the table always asks "Why do they call it hopping John?" and nobody ever knows why.
Hopping John seems long to have been associated with the meager cuisine of slavery. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the phrase is first attested in 1856 in A Journey in the Seaboard Slave States (page 506), one of a number of American travel books written by Frederick Law Olmsted, later to gain fame as the landscape architect who designed New York's Central Park and the great Biltmore House in Asheville NC. He wrote that "the greatest luxury with which they [presumably the slaves somewhere] are acquainted is a stew of bacon and peas, with red pepper, which they call "Hopping John".
Surfin' the Net, I find one plausible explanation: that "Hoppin' John" is an odd adaptation of the Creole French pois pigeons 'pigeon peas', pronounced pwah peeJON. It's not too far from that to "hoppin' John" (though why not "poppin' John", I wonder).
The OED offers some support for what I think is an equally likely origin of the word, recording a statement by an otherwise anonymous Hardy (not the novelist, who lived somewhat later) in 1843 that "These feasts, or as they are called elsewhere in Northumberland, hoppings, are held on the festival of the patron saint."
New Years Day follows less than a week after the feast of St. John the Evangelist (the traditional author of the Gospel and Epistles of John and of Revelation) on December 27th. The feast of the other Biblical John, St. John the Baptist, comes at the other end of the year, on June 24th. Thus marking the two solstices, the festivals of the two saints John are thought of in traditional calendar lore as the two supporting points of the year.
Some northern European peoples say that the Sun is seen to dance at the winter solstice, at the time when it is seen at the farthest point to the south, and begins its return northward. Could this dance have occasioned the name of this homely dish?
I think we shall never really know.
Hoppin’ John
(Bob and Leila Dailey of Bedford, Indiana)
(For vegetarian, leave out the chicken.)
2 T. vegetable oil
2 chicken breasts, de-boned and de-skinned sliced thinly into medallion sizes
2 large sweet onions-cut in narrow wedges
2 large green bell peppers-cut in narrow wedges
2 cans (undrained) black-eyed peas
2 cans diced tomatoes (undrained)
salt and pepper to taste
Place oil into large skillet. Sauté chicken medallions until no raw chicken remains. Add onions and peppers and continue sautéing until the raw vegetables are tender, but not browned. Add the black-eyed peas and tomatoes and stir well. Bring to a boil and then turn the heat to simmer. Simmer, covered, for at least 30 minutes so the flavors can meld and the peas can soften more.
Serve over hot, cooked rice.
A large slab of cornbread and butter is also served with this.
A Snack for Hard Times
http://www.mindspring.com/~t omc/cornbred.htm
When my mother was a kid, during the Great Depression, cornbread was a snack, she told me. I think she used to tell my sisters and me this to get us not to eat so many candy bars and drink so many Cokes. She said she just couldn't wait to come home from school in the afternoons and pour herself a tall glass of buttermilk and then dips a piece of cornbread in it. And then eat it! (I've even heard that some people put black-eyed peas, onions, and turnip greens down in a glass of buttermilk and stir up this noxious concoction before adding cornbread
Food of Princesses
But consumed as it was meant to be--piping hot and moist, buttered and slightly crispy--cornbread is the perfect complement to any meal. I can just imagine Princess Di in happier times at the table with Charles, Elizabeth, Philip, and the rest of the gang, saying,
"This pâté de foie gras simply cries out for cornbread! Haven't we any?"
Until recently--even though I had many times experienced the sheer culinary ecstasy of lightly browned, thick-crumbed, golden cornbread--I had never been able to successfully cook it myself. It would always turn out nicely crusted on the outside but soggy on the inside. After several failed experiments, I finally just assumed that the making of perfect cornbread was an art I was never to master. I just hadn't inherited the Cornbread Gene.
But when I was back home for Christmas this past year, my mother made us all a couple of batches of cornbread so fantastic that I just had to ask her to impart the secrets of this manna. Others have overcome more serious disabilities. Perhaps I could learn from her and thus no longer be cornbread-challenged.
"Sure," she said. "There's nothing to it."
Right.
Like there's nothing to hang gliding, or correctly setting the timer on the VCR.
The rest of the time I was at my parents' house, I kept forgetting to get her to write it down for me. When I got back to Atlanta, the weather turned cold, and with a big pot of lentil soup in the offing, I had to give cornbread another chance.
The Secret Is Revealed
I called my mother up, and she gave me the recipe over the phone.
I tried it.
You're not going to believe this, but it turned out perfectly the first time!
Perfectly. Well, almost.
But compared to my earlier pitiful flops, this seemed like perfection to me. It had a lovely crust, although a couple of shades too dark perhaps, with a finely pocked surface--the classic cornbread texture. It crumbled nicely, it was a lovely yellow on the inside, and it tasted...well, not too bad.
The problem was that I had been hoarding a limp bag of corn meal in the refrigerator for about two years, hoping that some divine force would smite me like a thunderbolt, rendering me suddenly and miraculously capable of cooking perfect cornbread. Until then, the bag would sit near the back of the second shelf.
So actually to call my first almost-perfect batch of cornbread "not too bad," would be a bit charitable. It was tolerable, but certainly not good. I learned a valuable lesson that day:
Stale corn meal doth not a perfect cornbread make.
I've made cornbread two or three times since then, and each time it's gotten a little better. I know I'll never be able to make it as well as my mother. But at least, in my little kitchen, I can now make cornbread that does melt in one's mouth.
Buttermilk Cornbread Recipe
You're going to be making this in a cast-iron skillet, so if all you have is one of those wimpy frying pans with a wooden or plastic handle, you've got to make a trip to the store.
Where can you find a good cast-iron skillet? According to alert reader Mike Moore of Delray Beach, Florida, you can buy one from any Ace Hardware store or a kitchen store. I guess you might find one somewhere else as well, like an enlightened kitchen equipment store (if they can carry devices to pit cherries and seed cucumbers, surely they can stock something as basic and necessary as a cast-iron skillet
.If you're really getting into this, you'll want to check out my basic information on the care and feeding of skillets. http://tomc.home.mindspring. com/skillets.htm
But wait a minute--we were about to fix some cornbread, weren't we? Okay, I'm going to give you proportions for two basic kinds of skillets:
• 9-inch divided skillet
• Big skillet (mine is 10 inches across and about 2 inches deep)
You might also be able to get your hands on a corn-stick pan--one of those little things that have a row of half-cylinders, possibly even shaped like corn ears. Those are not only cute, but they also have the practical advantage of providing more crust in each bite. Yum! If you have one of those, use the proportions listed for the 9-inch skillet.
9-inch Divided Skillet or Corn-Stick Pan
1/2 egg
9/10 cup buttermilk
2 tbsp. vegetable or olive oil
*1 scant cup self-rising cornmeal mix
1/2 tsp. salt (optional)
Big Skillet
1 egg
1 4/5 cups buttermilk
4 tbsp. vegetable or olive oil
*2 scant cups self-rising cornmeal mix—[This is Jiffy Cornbread Mix]
1 tsp. salt (optional)
*If you don't have self-rising cornmeal, you can use regular cornmeal plus 1/2 tsp. baking soda and 1 tsp. baking powder (double those amounts if you're making the Big Skillet quantity).
1. Pre-heat the oven to 500 degrees.
2. Beat the egg in a medium-to-large-sized bowl.
3. Add the buttermilk and oil. Mix.
4. Add salt (optional, and not at all necessary).
5. Gradually add the cornmeal, and stir just until blended.
6. Coat the inside of the skillet with about 1 tbsp. of oil. Heat it on an eye of the stove until it smokes. By now the oven should be good and hot, too.
7. Pour the batter into the skillet. It will give off a satisfying sizzle.
8. Put the skillet into the oven. (This is why you can't use one with a plastic or wooden handle.)
9. Check on the cornbread after about 15 minutes, and keep looking at it every minute or two. Opening the oven door lets out a lot of the heat really fast, so just look through the glass window if your oven door has one; if it's old and dingy like mine, use a flashlight.
When it's done the cornbread should be a lovely golden brown, and a knife inserted in it should come out clean. It should take 20 minutes at the most.
How to Consume Cornbread
Serve hot. Slather with butter or margarine. Best served with southern "soul food," pot likker, vegetables, or soup.
How to Consume Cornbread (Alternate)
Pour yourself a tall glass of buttermilk, dip the cornbread in, take a bite, and...
Still Haven't Had Enough?
My mother's is the only cornbread recipe you'll ever really need, but if you're compelled to try some other ones, check out these links:
Index of /recipes/cornbreads (FATFREE: The Low Fat Vegetarian Archive)
http://www.fatfree.com/recipes /cornbreads/
Cornbread Recipes from Veggies Unite! ("Your On-Line Guide to Vegetarianism"
http://vegweb .com/recipes/bread/index-bread-cornbread.shtml
Cornbread Recipes from About.com
http://southernfood.about.com/library/recipes/bl040697.htm?once=true&
Montgomery Mocha Tea Cakes
2 sticks margarine
2 cups flour
6 tablespoons milk
1 cup coffee
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
8 tablespoons cocoa
2 eggs
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup sour cream
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 box 10x powdered sugar
Boil margarine, coffee and 4 tablespoons cocoa. Don't let stick or burn. Take off stove. In bowl put 2 cups flour, 2 cups sugar, 1/2 teaspoon of salt. Blend and add to pot. Beat in 2 eggs, 1/2 cup sour cream, and 1 teaspoon baking soda. Grease sheet cake pan. Cook for 20 minutes at 350F.
Icing: boil in a pot, 1 stick margarine, 4 tablespoons cocoa, and 6 tablespoons milk. Take off stove and beat in 1 box powdered sugar, 1 teaspoon vanilla extract.
Spread icing over cooled cake and top with chopped pecans or cherry pie filling. Cut into small squares and put in fancy cupcake foils.
