Black-eyed peas grace our New Year's table every year. Black-eyed peas and collard greens, too. Not only do I enjoy a particular fondness of these hallmarks of traditional southern cooking, I love myth and superstition and ritual. They promise good fortune, you see, and who am I to argue with that sort of age-old wisdom? I cling to old things, myth and ritual. And, for what it's worth, I never sweep on New Year's Day either, lest I sweep all our luck straight out the door.
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