By The summer solstice came and we marked it with a fire and the people who were available: Caleb, River, Lucia, Art and his wife Carmen, a couple from the ninth cohort who'd asked if they could visit the land. We ate outside, everything from the garden at its peak — tomatoes just beginning, the last of the spring greens, summer squash, fresh beans cooked simply with good oil and herbs. Art brought wine as always. The cohort couple brought a pie that was good and technically precise, which made me happy because it meant they'd been practicing.
Art is seventy-four and doesn't move the way he used to but his mind is exactly what it's always been, which is sharp and opinionated and curious about everything. He sat next to River all evening and they talked about construction — River's interested in natural building, wants to understand earthen structures and timber framing, sees it as connected to his land management work. Art showed him photos on his phone of a building he'd done in 1991 using rammed earth and he was more animated talking about it than I'd seen him in months.
Carmen told me quietly that Art had been having a hard spring, some health things, nothing specific but a tiredness that concerned her. She said evenings like this helped. I told her they helped me too. She said she knew. She's known Art for forty years and me for thirty and she said it with the authority of someone who has been watching two men navigate the same need for a very long time.
After everyone left I sat by the dying fire and thought about the years accumulating. Thirty years on this land. The fire in the same pit where I built the first one the winter I arrived. The table grown larger. The family grown beyond what I could have imagined from that first year alone.
That meal — the beans cooked simply with oil and herbs, the tomatoes just beginning, everything at its peak — is the kind of eating that stays with you. When I think about what to make for evenings like that one, I come back to this black eyed pea salsa: it’s garden food at its most honest, the kind of thing you can set on the table and let people find their own way into. It works as a dip, alongside grilled things, or just eaten from a bowl while the fire dies down.
Black Eyed Pea Salsa
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 2 cans (15 oz each) black eyed peas, drained and rinsed
- 1 cup cherry tomatoes, quartered (or 2 medium tomatoes, diced)
- 1 cup corn kernels, fresh or thawed from frozen
- 1/2 red onion, finely diced
- 1 jalapeño, seeded and minced
- 1/2 cup fresh cilantro, roughly chopped
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 3 tablespoons olive oil
- 3 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 2 limes)
- 1 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 3/4 teaspoon kosher salt, or to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Instructions
- Prep the beans. Drain and rinse the black eyed peas thoroughly under cold water. Shake off excess moisture and transfer to a large mixing bowl.
- Add the vegetables. Add the diced tomatoes, corn, red onion, jalapeño, and garlic to the bowl with the peas. Stir gently to combine.
- Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the olive oil, lime juice, cumin, smoked paprika, salt, and black pepper until well combined.
- Dress and toss. Pour the dressing over the bean and vegetable mixture. Fold everything together gently so the peas don’t get mashed.
- Add the herbs. Stir in the fresh cilantro. Taste and adjust salt, lime, or heat as needed.
- Rest before serving. Let the salsa sit at room temperature for at least 10 minutes before serving, or refrigerate for up to an hour to let the flavors develop. Serve with tortilla chips, alongside grilled vegetables, or as a side dish.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 145 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 19g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 310mg