the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

down home foodstuffs

'Cause baby it's cold outside.

In order to prepare this dish, you'll need a cheap bag of frozen purple hull peas. Buy it a year ago in a fit of healthfulness, then use it multiple times to ice wounds. Just refreeze it each time. It's okay. Promise. When those who share your home begin to look askance at it, you're about ready to cook it.

My cheap bag was about 14 oz. All the recipes I looked at said to cook with two 10-oz bags. I don't know where those people are shopping, frankly. And who buys two bags of peas, anyway?

You'll also need a few strips of bacon. When I get bacon, I usually get it thick. This was about half a pound, I guess. It's been in the fridge for a couple of weeks, so it was time to cook the rest before it turned.

Put the bacon in a deep-dish pan and cook. Slowly, though. The trick to perfect bacon is to warm it slowly and cook it on almost the lowest heat setting possible. And watch it, of course. Burnt bacon isn't nearly as tasty.

You'll naturally need a few extra strips to munch when you're finished, and to compensate for those freeloaders who like to meander through the kitchen and "taste" stuff while you're cooking. Since bacon is a food that beckons anyone with a working nose, I recommend you go ahead and cook a full pound of the stuff.

OK. When it's done, drain it on a paper towel and pour off (into a container of some sort) all but about two tablespoons of bacon drippings. This is what the recipe I started with calls for, but you know you're going to need more than that. All the same, take that leap of faith and start with the amount they suggest. Humor them.

It should still be sizzling. Toss in about 3 tablespoons of minced garlic. Most people would say "3 cloves," I guess, but I have two problems with this: (1) cloves are different sizes, and (2) if you use as much garlic as I do, you buy it minced by the quart, anyway. If 3 tablespoons doesn't seem like it'll be enough, add a bit more. It's hard to overdo garlic in my world.

At this point, you'll realize that you probably should have already chopped an onion, but you haven't. You're already running behind. Well done.

Turn off the heat and fetch an onion. Throw away the rotten one from the pantry, too.* Chop half of it. In case you didn't watch this the first time I posted it, watch it now: madd onion-cuttin skilz can B urs. Not only is this a wonderful skill to have if you cook, but the guy has a lovely British accent. I've never done the vertical cuts he does, but I can see how that would render nearly flawless chopped onion.

* What is it with those yellow onions, anyway?

I've mentioned this before but I'll mention it again: If you're going to chop onion, do it sober. Drinking and dicing do not mix. Here's a pic of what I'm calling my "Thanksgiving thumb," when I chopped right through my thumbnail. Lovely, huh? It's at the point of growth that I constantly fear getting the cut part caught on something and ripping it off.

Don't try this at home. I'm a professional.*

* Something.

Allrightythen. Put the onion in the skillet with the browned garlic and turn it back on. It needs more bacon drippings already, doesn't it? That's why we saved them. Pour another couple of tablespoons in, stir it a bit, then let it simmer.

OK. Break up the peas. They're bricklike by now, so you may need an ice pick. Or just a hard counter with some well-aimed karate chops.

When the onions start to turn transluscent, dump the peas in. Put in about a cup of chicken bullion. And mince up all the bacon and dump it in, too. Now add some rough ground black pepper (to taste), and a couple of tablespoons of ground, dried sage. Put a lid on it and walk away.

The recipe I was consulting says it should be done in about five minutes, so go back in about five-ten minutes and taste the fare. Those peas are crunchy, aren't they? Dump in another cup of chicken broth and leave it lidded to cook again. Repeat in about thirty minutes.

After about an hour, you should have the most amazing peas you've ever tasted.

d