I’ve loved black-eyed peas since I was very small. Their texture delights me — smooth and plump outside, but creamy inside, endowing their broth with a richness even though each pea holds its shape, distinctly marked with that elegant eye. I disliked butterbeans and limas, and found English peas pretty but not worthy of attention unless they were filling the mashed potatoe mountain we called a bird’s nest. Now I love all three of these fellow legumes, but black-eyed peas remain my favorite.
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