Black-Eyed Pea Tomato Salad

Fourth of July. Third in the Cascade Heights house. The cookout has become the neighborhood event — word has spread, the way word spreads in Cascade Heights: through church, through Mrs. Henderson, through the smell of ribs that travels three blocks and serves as its own invitation. This year: twenty-two people. Our seven, Curtis, Claudette, Vanessa (with baby Elijah, born in March — a fat, happy boy who Vanessa describes as "Brian in miniature" and who I describe as "perfect"), Brian, Darnell and family, the Hendersons, and various church members who appeared with side dishes and the particular confidence of people who know they're welcome at any table where Tamika Washington is cooking.

I grilled ribs and Derek grilled burgers and Claudette commandeered her corner and Isaiah made his chicken tenders and Jasmine made cornbread and Marcus made his salsa and Zoe made a triple-layer cake that drew actual gasps from the Henderson children. Curtis sat in his chair and surveyed the backyard like a king observing his kingdom: satisfied, proprietary, asleep by the third plate. The backyard held twenty-two people and the food held six traditions and the traditions held each other and the line — the long, unbroken, garlic-scented line from rural Alabama through Cascade Heights through a Folgers can through a church kitchen through a pandemic through a wedding through a house through this backyard — the line held. The line will always hold.

When you’re feeding twenty-two people and every cook in the family has claimed a corner of the grill, what you need is a dish that doesn’t ask for a burner, doesn’t compete with the ribs, and still carries the weight of where you come from — and this salad does exactly that. Black-eyed peas go all the way back to rural Alabama for us, the kind of ingredient that showed up at every table where someone was cooking with love and not much else, and pairing them with bright summer tomatoes felt right for a day that was equally about roots and celebration. I make a big bowl, set it on the table, and it disappears — every time, without fail — the same way the line always holds.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes (plus 30 minutes chilling) | Servings: 10–12

Ingredients

3 cans (15 oz each) black-eyed peas, drained and rinsed
2 cups cherry tomatoes, halved
1 large red bell pepper, diced
1 medium green bell pepper, diced
1/2 medium red onion, finely diced
1 jalapeño, seeded and minced (optional)
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
3 green onions, thinly sliced
1/3 cup olive oil
3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon honey
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Instructions

Prep the peas. Drain and rinse the black-eyed peas under cold water. Shake off excess moisture and transfer to a large mixing bowl.
Add the vegetables. Add the cherry tomatoes, red bell pepper, green bell pepper, red onion, jalapeño (if using), garlic, parsley, and green onions to the bowl. Stir gently to combine.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the olive oil, apple cider vinegar, honey, smoked paprika, salt, and black pepper until emulsified.
Dress the salad. Pour the dressing over the black-eyed pea mixture and toss thoroughly so everything is evenly coated. Taste and adjust salt and vinegar as needed.
Chill and serve. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before serving to allow the flavors to meld. Serve cold or at room temperature. The salad keeps well for up to 3 days in the refrigerator.

Nutrition (per serving)

Black-Eyed Pea Tomato Salad — The Dish That Holds the Line at the Cascade Heights Cookout