Just had lunch at my desk, which included various odds and ends from meals past, putting me in mind of an observation of Huck Finn’s:
The widow rung a bell for supper, and you had to come to time. When you got to the table you couldn’t go right to eating, but you had to wait for the widow to tuck down her head and grumble a little over the victuals, though there warn’t really anything the matter with them, — that is, nothing only everything was cooked by itself. In a barrel of odds and ends it is different; things get mixed up, and the juice kind of swaps around, and the things go better.
In my barrel, or rather on my microwaveable Corelle plate, I had some bits of fried catfish, some steamed broccoli, several slices of fried squash, and a ground turkey patty.
But the item that held it all together and combined so well with all of it was a bed of white rice topped with field peas. And not your mean, ordinary field peas that you can buy in any store, but the very finest, the kind your quality eat (or would, if they knew what was good for them): Dixie Lee field peas. As you should know, the pea liquor from Dixie Lees is the finest kind of juice to have swapping around amongst your odds and ends. (I remember being told as a child about a relative from way back who wanted to be enbalmed with pea liquor when his time came. I’ve always assumed that he meant Dixie Lee pea liquor, because nothing less would inspire such a wish.)
These were made better by the fact that they were cooked by my Mama, who treated my wife and me to dinner last night to give us a break after our trip over the last few days. These were the leftovers — or rather, some of them. I save some for tomorrow, to have with the rest of the leftover fried catfish. That will some more get you through the working day.
This was a rare find on my mother’s part. Previously, we had only found Dixie Lees at produce stands in our native Pee Dee. But she got these at the Farmers Market, according to my Dad, whom I just spoke to, because Mama was taking a nap.
But this taste has made me greedy, and I was wondering — does anybody know where I can get some plantable Dixie Lees that I can grow in a home garden? I’d be much obliged.