Stone Soup for a Rainy Day

Today was not a good "solar day".  Meaning it was cloudy, so not much solar radiation reached the panel. Sprinkles of rain came and went, the typical brief showers that occur out here.  This is a desert, but it does still rain.  Often the rain passes quickly and all traces of moisture vanish within the hour.  Today there were periodic brief showers, starting in the late morning.  All day the sky was overcast, a flat gray light covering the landscape and making it seem like the hour was later than it really was.

Raindrops dashing against KD's back window.

I felt like staying in bed, but I'd slept a long, hard sleep and I had somehow promised to make black eyed peas for a four o'clock supper for some of our group.  I had intended to make them on the first day of the year so we could eat them for luck like you are supposed to, but I got that dang virus and just wasn't in any kind of shape to cook then.  Last night at the fire I mentioned I was thinking about cooking them up before I left, asking around to see who would eat them if I did them vegetarian style.  We have a couple of vegetarians in our group and one of them is allergic to onions, so I was trying to figure out how I could make black eyed peas palatable with no ham hock and no onion.  Part of that problem got solved when Seann, who gets sick unto death if he eats onions, told me he hated black eyed peas.  I figured at least that meant I could use onions.

I was thinking out loud about how I would make them, regretting throwing out that last quarter of a fresh onion I'd had and wondering what I could use instead of ham for flavoring.  Aaron piped up that he had an onion I could use and some meatless imitation bacon bits.  Chili Bob said he would fry up some of the big sack of red potatoes he had to add to the meal, and before I knew it I was committed to cooking those peas.  Everybody seemed excited about it and somebody said "Stone Soup!"

So I had to get up and get going, because around here four o'clock comes a lot sooner than you think.  I made coffee, put the bed away and tidied things up a bit.  Had some cereal, swept the floor, and switched the pump back onto the tank.  Biela and Luo took the 55 gallon water drum with them when they left, and I'd been drawing water off a couple of 7-gallon jugs.  Those didn't have enough left for a shower, so it was time to start drawing off the trailer tank again.

I took a conservative shower.  Without that 55 gallons out there I need to be a little more careful of water use.  I don't want to have a lot of water left when I leave, but I want it to stretch over the next few days.  I can still get more, but I don't want to be making multiple water runs in my few remaining days out here.

I needed to pick up a few things for this evening's dinner as well as get rid of garbage and make one final water run, so I checked to see if anyone needed a ride to town or needed anything brought back, then mounted up.  I managed to make efficient use of time, grabbing a couple more 7-gallon water carriers, which I've been meaning to buy, and another 10-foot freshwater hose so I didn't have to detach my other one from the auxiliary water intake.  Fresh ice for chilled drinks and a few other necessities, and I was heading back to the Two Rivers rest area to water up for perhaps the final time.  Pelicans were wheeling overhead in great flocks, residents of the nearby wildlife refuge.  They are huge birds.  The sight of pelicans soaring on their enormous wings inspired Tere Rios to write The Fifteenth Pelican, the book that was the basis for The Flying Nun TV show.  I watched them while the jugs slowly filled and they did make me think of the cornets of the Daughters of Charity.

I stopped for ice at the Market Square grocery store in Calipatria, then hurried home to start those black eyed peas cooking.  The day was dreary but a hole must have opened up in the clouds over a section of the Chocolate Mountains, because suddenly what looked like a wide plateau was hanging there in the brilliant sunlight.  It looked like a mysterious, hidden land made momentarily visible, an Asgard or Shangri La shining in the golden light, framed between frowning peaks on either side that jutted up like shadowed teeth.  I watched it all the way to Slab City, seeing a fiery road, gleaming fields and a forbidden, immortal city.  It stayed visible all the way through Niland and down Beal Road until I turned away down the canal road.  By the time I had Goose tucked in close to the trailer it had disappeared back into the dim mutter of vague tumbled shapes, dark and indistinct again in the gloomy afternoon light.

It started to rain in earnest as I got out of the truck, and then the air was filled with that marvelous sweet and spicy fragrance of a rainstorm in the desert.  The drops were fat and warm as they struck me and I realized I didn't mind them at all.  Rain is such a blessing in the desert, all the surrounding creation seems to turn up its face gladly to the sky to receive it.

It's been a while since I've made black eyed peas.  The conventional method is to simmer them slowly over many hours, but I am too impatient for that.  Besides, I have a pressure cooker.

 Unsoaked black eyed peas cook in about 6 to 7 minutes under high pressure, though it's best if you can let the pressure fall naturally after the timer goes off.  That allows the peas to continue to cook in the residual heat and spares them the shock of an abrupt pressure change that happens when you suddenly release the vent, which could cause them to burst their skins and turn to mush.  There are opinions on both sides about whether it is necessary to presoak them before cooking.  My pressure cooker goddess, Lorna Sass, reassures us that the peas are so small they don't really need to be soaked.  Aside from soaking them overnight, there are ways to speed soak beans using the pressure cooker.  This just seems like more work to me, so I haphazardly rinsed the bag of dried peas and pawed them over to remove any obvious debris, then threw them in the pot with 8 cups of water.  I diced up about half a large yellow onion, several ribs of celery including some of the tender leaves, and chopped up about a dozen baby carrots.  I usually buy peeled baby-cut carrots when I'm camping for convenience sake, but you could obviously use regular carrots and just peel and slice them any way you want.  I also added 2 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil.  The oil is important to keep the beans from foaming up and going crazy in there, possibly blocking the steam vent and causing bad things to happen.  I've read a lot of dire warnings about beans and peas in the pressure cooker.  Apparently there is the risk that a bean skin can catapult up there and block the steam vent, causing an explosion to rival the Tunguska Event.  But I've never had that happen.  Add some oil to prevent foaming, don't overfill your cooker and everything will be fine.  Besides, that's what safety release valves are for.

I shook in some dried onion flakes just for good measure, and a generous handful of Aaron's imitation bacon bits.  My original idea had been to get some liquid smoke and add that to make up for the lack of ham or salt pork, but I thought this might work as well.

I added a little salt and pepper (best to save the final seasoning adjustment until the end so you don't accidentally overdo) and was valiantly resisting the urge to sneak in my favorite chicken bouillon cube for a flavor boost since that would violate Aaron's strict vegetarian requirement.  Just then Aaron himself showed up to see how things were going.  He came bearing a little jar of Marmite.  He suggested I try adding about a teaspoon for flavor.  I have to confess I was a little dubious about Marmite.  I've certainly heard about it.  Usually the person mentioning it has to suppress a shudder when describing it, a thick, salty yeast-based concoction beloved by British cooks and useful for vegetarian dishes in place of the usual meat stock concentrates.

I sniffed it and it didn't smell bad.  Seemed like it might be just the thing to calm down my chicken stock withdrawal jitters, so I promised to add some during the finishing stages.

I remembered I had a cornbread mix in the cupboard, so while I was waiting for the pot to come up to pressure I mixed it up and poured it into my trusty cast-iron skillet, well buttered, then put it into the hot oven. 

When the timer went off after six minutes I turned off the heat on the peas and let the pressure fall.  It takes a long time for that big 10-quart pot to drop pressure though, and eventually I couldn't stand it and had to move the valve over to the release position.  All Abooooooarrd!  Steam blew out in a long whoosh, and then it was time to see how things turned out.  If you've never used a pressure cooker before, one important safety tip is to open it facing away from you.  Just tilt the lid up like a shield between you and all that billowing steam coming up out of the pot.

The peas did great.  They were fully cooked and the broth looked rich and brown.  I added a teaspoon of Aaron's Marmite, adjusted the salt and pepper, and threw in a bit more imitation baco-bits for fun.  It tasted surprisingly authentic.  The cornbread came out of the oven and then people were at my door, dancing around and offering to help me carry things over to Chili Bob's Bounder.  It wasn't cold exactly, but rain kept threatening and it just seemed like a good idea to eat in the cozy, dry Bounder.

Chili Bob's fried up red potatoes and onions were AWESOME!  I would have been content to just fall face down in the bowl, but I figured I should probably at least eat some of the black eyed peas.  We ate til we were ready to burst, then Chili Bob broke out beer and ice cream.

I wish I had taken a picture of the pot of black eyed peas or the skillet of cornbread, but I didn't think of it until it was too late.  I made it clear I didn't really want to take home any leftovers so Chili and Aaron divided them up.  They'll be even better tomorrow.  Maybe I didn't think that whole no-leftovers things through too well.  On the other hand, Aaron looked so happy bearing away his big container that it was worth it.

Chili Bob agreed with me those black eyed peas came out good, but they might have been a tiny bit better with real ham.

Oh, and we polished off the corn bread too.