Black-eyed success

The okra worked out nicely in the black-eyed peas. My return to recession (not a depression YET) cooking is off and running.

I soaked a pound of dried black-eyes (two pounds was going to be too big a batch). They really soak up the water fast and don't require an overnight soaking, like beans do. I chopped three lean pieces of bacon, barely covered the bacon with water, and placed the pot on medium-high heat until the water had boiled away and the bacon was starting to sizzle. I added a large chopped onion, salt, and a half-teaspoon of pepper and cooked until the onion was soft, and a nice, dark, almost-burned sheen appeared on the bottom of the pot. I poured in half a cup of leftover coffee and "deglazed" the bottom of the pan. Added the black-eyes and water just to cover.

I thin-sliced six pods of okra and threw that in. I didn't want "black-eyed peas and okra;" I only wanted to see what the okra's natural viscosity would do to thicken the pot liquor. Usually, the thickening takes place when you mash a cup or so of hot black-eyes and stir that back in.

Plus I was looking for something else; a flavor twitch. I am a lifelong fan of the "meat and three" menus served in Southern cafes. You choose a meat (braised, baked, smothered, or fried), and then three sides: potatoes, macaroni and cheese, pinto beans, green beans, black-eyes, turnip greens, etc. I don't think you can eat any better than that. In addition to "recession cooking," I could call this cuisine "meat and three at home."

I think these black-eyes met the meat-and-three standard. Dried black-eyes are more intensely savory than fresh; the sappy okra juices did their thickening job nicely; and that country twitch, which I have found that only okra can provide, was present. I wish I had jotted down prices (I am making a note to myself), but these ingredients, yielding a couple of quarts, could not have cost more than two or three dollars. We have eaten some of it, and have four more containers in the freezer.

I moved on to spaghetti casserole. In good times (gas under $2.25 a gallon, the dollar worth 85 cents), standard practice is to make spaghetti for dinner, then turn the leftovers into spaghetti casserole. I have always liked spaghetti, but I like spaghetti casserole even better, so it was a simple choice to recessify it.

It is simply a matter of skipping the "spaghetti as dinner" stage, which stretches the sauce, which permits inclusion of more spaghetti into the casserole. I browned a pound of seasoned hamburger, chopped a large onion, let it brown and the pot scorch a little, as with the black-eyed peas. Deglazed with half a cup of coffee, added a teaspoon of chopped garlic, a cup of chopped mushrooms, and a 15-oz. can of diced tomatoes and enough water to rinse out the can. I let this simmer for an hour to cook down the tomatoes. Then I added a jar of Barilla spaghetti sauce (tomato and basil flavor) and simmered this for an hour.

Then I added 15-oz. cans of corn and sliced black olives. I didn't have any jalapenos (in the jar), but if I had, I would have diced a tablespoonful and added that. I boiled half a package of spaghetti, drained it, and stirred it into the sauce. Freeze in containers. To serve, bake in the oven (350) for half an hour. In the last 10 minutes, top with some grated cheese.

Next: tuna casserole, or maybe a kind of chile verde.