Pea’s A Crowd

Staring down the bag labeled blandly as “field peas,” culled from the brightly lit grocery store shelf, I knew there was more to the story. Encompassing dozens of different legumes, field peas are a catch-all term for any Southern bean grown amongst the crops, as opposed to the home garden. That means you could grab a package of so-called field peas and find black-eye peas, lady peas, cream peas, purple hull peas, or zipper peas staring back at you, all under the same label.

This particular bundle was different though, which is why it caught my eye. Tiny as grains of uncooked brown rice, unlike any bean I had cooked before, I decided to buy first, ask questions later. Only after exhaustive research could I give my new prize a more accurate name: Crowder Peas.

What Exactly Are Crowder Peas?

As part of the field pea family, also known as cowpeas or Southern peas, crowder peas hail from Africa, brought to the US along with enslaved peoples. Through their skilled hands, agriculture thrived, using these heirloom beans to add nitrogen to the soil, enduring through extreme heat and drought alike.

Crowder peas come by their name quite literally, each pod being “crowded” with many peas as they grow. There are many varieties of crowder peas, too, including Mississippi Silver, Dixie Lee, Cream Peas, Zipper Peas, and more; some are rounded while others are fairly flat, varying from brown to white but shades may vary. If you’re looking for a single definitive example of the legume, you’re going to be disappointed. Harvested in the late summer, you’re unlikely to find them fresh, unless you live within a few miles of where they’re grown. More likely than not, you’ll find them dried year round, and occasionally canned.

Crowder Peas: Always In Good Taste

The mysterious crowder peas that I purchased reminded me visually of tiny tepary beans; dark, firm, and robust. They’re a bean-lover’s bean, loud and proud, earthy, starchy, sometimes nutty, and always savory. Where black-eyed peas can taste bright and grassy, crowders are deeper and more grounded. The rounder varieties may be a bit creamier, but all are built to withstand long stews and braises. That potlikker is a prize all by itself, slightly thickened and dark as red wine. Traditionally seasoned with a simple array of onions, garlic, paprika, and often ham, you’d be crazy to think about draining it away.

Crowder Pea Nutrition? Bean There, Done That

Between you and me, I wish we could skip the section on nutrition for these bean deep-dives because they’re all starting to read the same. Unsurprisingly, they’re high in protein and fiber, B vitamins, folate, magnesium, and iron. Spoiler alert: there is no such thing as an unhealthy legume. Next!

Cooking Crowder Peas

Dried crowder peas are a pantry gift, especially in cooler months when fresh produce feels scarce. Soaking them for several hours, or overnight, shortens the cooking time and encourages even tenderness, though it’s not strictly required.

  • Stove Top: If soaked in advance, crowder peas take about 1 – 1 1/2 hours to cook, covered by at least 1 inch of water and gently simmered. Check on the water level and add more if too much evaporates during the process. If unsoaked, it can take closer to 2 hours on the heat.
  • Pressure Cooker: This is my method of choice because it requires no soaking and is still done in less time. Cover crowder peas with at least 2 inches of water and cook on high pressure for 20 minutes. Allow the pressure to release naturally.

Only after cooking should you add salt. Drain or enjoy along with the potlikker, as is most traditional. Note that those who sometimes have trouble digesting beans would be better served to drain the liquid, which contains a considerable amount of the oligosaccharides (raffinose and stachyose) responsible.

Crowd-Sourcing Serving Suggestions

Crowder peas would be out of place on a complex plate. They’re at their best when seasoned simply, nestled besides humble staples like stewed greens, rice, mashed potatoes, cornbread, or even plain old buttered white bread. Made for big pots, long simmers, and recipes designed to stretch across days, they’re deeply rooted in Southern culture, especially in rural and agricultural communities where field peas were a staple crop. A few traditional uses include:

  • Field Peas & Snaps: Contrary to the modern interpretation that employs green beans, “snaps” refers to the whole pea pods that are too tender to shell, simply snapped in half and cooked together with the peas.
  • Hoppin’ John: While black-eyed peas have become the favored bean for this fortuitous dish, older recipes made no qualms about using whatever field pea was at your disposal. The beans are meant to represent coins, paired with the greens for money, coalescing into a blessing for wealth in the New Year. That wouldn’t change whether your beans had black eyes or not.
  • Chilled Summer Salad: Be it a picnic or potluck, the humble crowder pea will serve you well. Since they hold their shape after cooking, they’re prime candidates for the salad treatment, often tossed in a mustardy vinaigrette with tomatoes, bell peppers, onions, and more.

For more inspiration, look to the ever-popular black-eyed pea. It’s the most common field pea on the market, leading to a great wealth of recipe ideas. From soup and chili to more modern veggie burgers, meatless loaves, and stuffed peppers, there’s almost no preparation that wouldn’t welcome a swap. Crowder peas can step in seamlessly, bringing a slightly creamier texture and deeper, earthier flavor to the same familiar formats.

Playing the Field

Given that I don’t have access to fresh crowder peas and can only dream of snapping their delicate little pods in two, I did have to resort to using garden-variety green beans to make my own version of field peas and snaps. On the bright side, this approach is much less labor-intensive, since you can buy bags of cut green beans ready to go. Since we’re not prisoners of tradition here, I have no qualms swapping out the conventional bacon or ham hock for the one-two punch of mushrooms and liquid smoke. Meat was always meant to be the seasoning, not the focal point, in any event.

Between the onions and garlic, you’ve got a classic starter pack for “what smell’s so good in here?” before the umami mushrooms even enter the picture. The crowder peas, ever reliable, stay creamy at the center yet intact, thickening the broth ever so slightly as they simmer. Served with liquid and all, nothing goes to waste, especially the leftovers.


Join The Crowd

Crowder peas may not have the name recognition of their fellow field pea cousins, but that only means there’s more room on the table for discovery. Sturdy, soulful, and reliably versatile, they’re equally at home in a Southern stew or a weeknight plant meat remix. If anything, their underdog status works in your favor; they arrive without expectations and leave with converts. Next time you see that vague little bag labeled “field peas,” don’t walk past it. There’s a whole new crowd worth getting to know.

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Protein, Peas and Thank You

Not everything needs protein. Strange way to start a blog post about using protein powder, but hear me out. I’m well aware that protein, like its fellow macro-nutrients fat and carbohydrates, are essential for life. Protein helps with wound healing, muscle growth, skin elasticity, bone density, and so much more. These are solid facts. What isn’t beneficial, however, are the lower-quality proteins that manufacturers are cramming into every processed food and drink that crosses their paths. Collagen, for example, cannot be absorbed intact when consumed, making it a much less helpful protein than any plant-based option, despite the immense hype surrounding it.

Peak Protein

We have reached a fever pitch where protein is being shoehorned into sodas, water, and gummy bears. At this stage of peak protein, anything marginally consumable comes in a protein-enhanced version. As a proponent of balanced nutrition, protein absolutely has it’s place, but this litany of processed Frankenfoods is not it. I prefer to keep my protein at the center of the plate.

Naked Nutrition, Naked Truth

When I need a little extra boost, especially in gluten free baking or savory cooking, I look for actual food sources. This is where Naked Pea from Naked Nutrition comes into play. This is one of the few powders that makes sense in my kitchen because it is exactly what it says on the package, with nothing to hide.

100% yellow pea protein is the only ingredient. You won’t find any:

  • Sugar or alternative sweeteners
  • Added flavors
  • Thickeners or emulsifiers
  • Gluten
  • Soy
  • Dairy
  • Dubious health claims

Eat Real Food

Although you could absolutely mix it into smoothies or shakes, I see it more as a pantry staple, worthy of a place in your cabinet right next to the flour and spices.

Naked Pea unflavored protein powder has proven indispensable in everyday meals. There’s no need to drink meal replacement shakes when you can simply add a spoonful to soups, stews, even salad dressings. A light coating can replace flour or cornstarch when making crispy tofu or air-fried mushrooms, creating a golden, crunchy exterior that packs a protein punch. You can seamlessly slip a serving or two into your standard pancake or waffle batter without even picky eaters catching on. Such neutrality afford the cunning cook a nutritional boost, without sacrificing flavor.

Beyond the Blender

If you’re tired of slogging through chalky, cloying liquid meals to make your “gains,” Naked Pea is the way to get protein back on the table, where it belongs. Taking inspiration from the single-ingredient powerhouse, I turned to southern Peas and Dumplings to highlight the prowess of such a versatile powder. Similar to chicken and dumplings, it’s a thrifty answer to stretching a limited harvest, especially when meat was scarce. The most basic recipes simmer canned peas in bouillon and drop refrigerated biscuit dough on top for a quick, comforting, and hearty meal.

Every bit as easy to whip up from scratch without relying on store-bought shortcuts, a blend of chickpea flour and Naked Pea protein powder creates a soft, supple dough that practically melts in your mouth. No rolling necessary, you just drop dollops into the sea of simmering peas where it soaks in the buttery, lemon-flecked broth. A touch of fresh mint adds brightness, cutting through the savory richness for a finish that feels light despite being incredibly filling.

For all its verdant vibrancy, I’ll be the first to admit that this dish is not a looker. One could generously describe it as “rustic,” an underhanded compliment I loathe most in the food world. What it lacks in visual polish, it more than makes up for in flavor and substance. Each spoonful delivers tender dumplings, pops of sweet peas, and the undeniable satisfaction of a wholesome, high-protein meal.

Give Peas a Chance

By using the protein powder as a genuinely functional ingredient rather than a supplement, the push to get enough protein shifts from chore to culinary delight. Food is fuel, health is wealth, and all those other slogans; food is also flavor, joy, and comfort. Start with the right ingredients, and you can have it all.

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It’s Your Funeral

When in doubt, eat potatoes.

That’s the prevailing wisdom keeping Funeral Potatoes at the forefront of southern wakes. Despite the dire name, they’re not the cause of funerals, but solace for those attending them. Little more than a cheesy potato bake, they’re the epitome of comfort food. Simple flavors and soft, creamy textures make it easy to eat, especially for the bereft who may be struggling to find their usual appetite for life. Leftovers keep for days, reheat beautifully, and serve generously, which is why it’s also a favorite for meal trains, making sure everyone still eats when times are tough.

Chalk it up primarily to user error, but the first time I attempted a veganized, slightly healthier version of the concept, those poor potatoes needed their own funeral. It was essentially chunky potato soup in a casserole dish, sloshing dangerously against the sides of its ceramic coffin. Worse yet is the fact that after one bite, I knew they had died in vain. Bland as sin, unctuous in a bad way, delivering such a dish would only cause more grief rather than relieve it.

Back to the drawing board, using the basics as guidelines rather than rules, I created a version accidentally perfect for Halloween, decked out in brilliant orange and black. Sweet potatoes are the new featured spud, contrasted by the spicy kick of sriracha, enveloped in a creamy, cheesy foundation. Traditionally, corn flake cereal is sprinkled on top for a crunchy finish, but I wanted a more savory and substantial option, springing for crushed blue corn tortilla chips instead. Let’s be honest: the “blue” masa has always looked black, but it works in its favor here, at least when served as a festival fall feature.

You’ll want to be buried in these potatoes. They’re not quite spicy enough to raise the dead, but hopefully, at least buoy your spirits. Whether you’re mourning, celebrating, or just navigating the strange limbo of being alive, these potatoes are here for you.

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A Wealth of Flavor

New Year’s traditions are fraught with superstition. Grappling with the end of an era and beginning anew can be daunting, so it’s no surprise there are countless beliefs associated with easing the transition. If only there was a way to ensure good fortune for the next twelve months, surely that would provide a bit of comfort. Everyone has their own unique approach especially when it comes to guaranteeing good luck, though at the end of the day, it often comes back to the dinner table.

Black-eyed peas are famously linked with good luck, particularly in the southern states, sometimes causing a run on the humble staple in times of scarcity (otherwise known as supply chain disruptions in our modern day.) Native to West Africa, the dish began life as an all-purpose celebratory food without specific meaning, eaten for any joyous occasion. The peas could be seen as a charm to ward off the Evil Eye, and because they were numerous, growing in size when they cooked, they could represent growing fortunes or families.

Enslaved West Africans brought these traditions with them to the south, melding cultures to find New Year’s Day the best time for such an auspicious food. Their popularity spread just like the prolific field pea itself, spilling over into all households; good food is a universal language, after all. Some add greens into the mix to symbolize paper money, and the addition of cornbread is like gilding the bowl with gold leaf, in addition to simply being delicious. This is often known as Hoppin’ John, though the origin of the name is highly debated.

Considering such a wealth of historic flavor, I didn’t want to mess this up. I’ve made black-eyed peas before, but I never fully understood the significance. For an impoverished people that could count beans as currency, the tenacity, strength, and optimism it would take to proceed into another 365 days in good spirits is unimaginable. I have a hard enough time feeling positive about the future on a good day, and I’m aware of just how incredibly fortunate I am already.

In keeping with the spirit of the dish, I’m hoping that it will help increase my wealth this year, because I’m entering it in the Big Mountain Foods Recipe Contest! You can find out more about this dynamic meatless brand on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.

Taking the place of a customary ham hock or turkey wing, Lion’s Mane Mushroom Crumble adds an extra layer of umami along with a considerable protein punch. Though unconventional, I think it’s natural for the dish to continue to evolve as further cultural fusion occurs. Even before crafty cooks had access to a global palate of flavors, no two bowls of black-eyed peas would ever taste the same. Everyone has their own take on the concept, and of course, everyone’s own rendition is indisputably the best.

I need all the luck I can get heading into 2022, so I doubled up on auspicious offerings by putting cornbread right into the bowl. Rather than a fluffy square of golden corn, baked separately, I made mine as buttery dumplings that simmer right in the broth. It’s quicker, easier, and adds a satisfying heft and delightful chew, almost like fluffy cornmeal gnocchi.

No matter how you celebrate the coming New Year, I hope it’s full of pennies, dollars, and gold, literally and figuratively.

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Wordless Wednesday: Southern Comforts

Brenda’s Oakland – Blackened Tofu Hash + Bumper Crop Fried Veggie Sandwich

Vegan Mob – Smoked Brisket, Potato Salad, Coleslaw, Collard Greens

Upton’s Breakroom – Mac & Cheese, Brussels Sprouts, Loaded Potatoes

Citizen Eatery – BBQ Espresso Fried Hen of the Woods Mushrooms

Bouldin Creek Cafe – BBQ Tempeh

Chicago Diner – Chicken Fried Seitan

Candle Cafe – Mashed Potatoes & Grilled Seitan

Southern Fried with All the Fixin’s

Southern food is not a subject I can speak about with any authority, but I’d like to believe that I make up for such an absence in knowledge with enthusiasm and curiosity. Though I can count the number of times I’ve eaten the cuisine on one hand, thanks to the dearth of vegan options in general, the comforting, straightforward flavors always resonate. Given the opportunity to explore this uncharted culinary territory with the sage wisdom of The Southern Vegetarian Cookbook, it was an edible adventure I couldn’t resist. Though the pages are still packed with recipes calling for eggs, cheese, and butter, there are enough solid ideas here to provide the inspiration for vegan adaptations. Take, for example, the infamous Chicken-Fried Portobello with Mushroom and Shallot Gravy, originally appearing on the authors’ blog years ago to great acclaim. It’s no surprise; between the crisp, lightweight breaded exterior and the inherent umami depth of the mushroom, such a deceptively simple preparation can do no wrong. Similarly, that gravy could just as easy coat a used dish sponge, and I would happily wolf the whole thing down, as long as I could use a spoon to catch every last drop.

Swap out the egg for ground flaxseeds mixed with water, and the cream for any unsweetened non-dairy milk, and you’ll be in business too. Paired with sauteed, smoky beet greens and lightly charred corn, it was the perfect summer dinner, complete with a comforting southern accent.