Birthday. Thirty-one. The first birthday as a divorced man (well, divorcing — the papers are not final yet). Mama called at midnight. Year seventeen. Same story. I will never not need it. Jerome and Darius took me to the bar. Same tradition. Hennessy and basketball and laughter. The laughter is the thing I need most. The ability to laugh, to be with men who know me, to be DeShawn at a bar instead of DeShawn the divorced single father who cooks. At the bar, I am just DeShawn. The simplicity is a gift.
The kids came for the weekend. Zaria presented me with a card she made (scribbles, glitter, and the word "DADA" in Brianna's handwriting, because Zaria cannot write yet but can supervise). Aiden gave me a drawing of a grill with smoke coming out of it and the words "Dady's Gril" which I framed and hung in the kitchen next to the "Best Grill Dada" card from last year. The gallery of my son's art is becoming a timeline of my cooking journey, documented through the eyes of a child who has watched his father transform.
I cooked my birthday dinner. For the first time, I chose the menu: smothered pork chops, mac and cheese, cornbread, and collard greens. The full meal. Mama's greatest hits, played by my hands. The pork chops were right. The mac and cheese was golden. The cornbread was dense and crumbly and exactly what it should be. The greens were slow-cooked for four hours, the pot liquor thick and rich. I served it to the kids and ate with them at the table — my table, my food, my family — and Aiden said, "Happy birthday, Daddy. This is the best dinner ever." He is five. Every dinner is the best dinner ever. But this one was.
Thirty-one. A year ago I was thirty and married and the marriage was ending. Now I am thirty-one and divorced and the cooking is beginning. The trading — the loss of the marriage for the gain of the kitchen — is not a fair trade. But it is the trade I made, or the trade that was made for me, and I am living inside it, and the food is good.
The birthday dinner was the full spread — smothered pork chops, collard greens slow-cooked for four hours, golden mac and cheese, dense cornbread — and what it taught me is that I want to cook like that every week, not just on special occasions. This Black-Eyed Peas ’n’ Pasta is my weeknight answer to that same impulse: Southern soul in a form I can put on the table on a Tuesday when the kids are with me and I need something warm and honest. Black-eyed peas carry the same memory as a pot of greens — slow, earthy, the food of people who know how to make something out of something — and pairing them with pasta makes it weeknight-fast without losing that grounded feeling. It’s the kind of dish Aiden calls the best dinner ever, and on the nights I need to believe him, this is the one I make.
Black-Eyed Peas ’n’ Pasta
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 5
Ingredients
- 12 oz penne or rotini pasta
- 2 cans (15 oz each) black-eyed peas, drained and rinsed
- 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, with juices
- 1 medium yellow onion, diced
- 1 green bell pepper, diced
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 cup low-sodium chicken broth
- 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
- 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper, or to taste
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- 2 green onions, sliced, for garnish
Instructions
- Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water, then drain and set aside.
- Saute the vegetables. Heat olive oil in a large skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion and bell pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5–6 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
- Season and build the base. Stir in smoked paprika, thyme, cayenne, salt, and black pepper. Add the diced tomatoes with their juices and the chicken broth. Stir to combine and bring to a gentle simmer.
- Add the black-eyed peas. Stir in the drained black-eyed peas. Simmer uncovered for 8–10 minutes, until the liquid reduces slightly and the flavors meld together. Taste and adjust seasoning.
- Combine with pasta. Add the cooked pasta to the skillet and toss to coat evenly. If the mixture looks dry, add reserved pasta water a splash at a time until you reach your desired consistency.
- Serve. Plate and garnish with sliced green onions. Serve hot.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 420 | Protein: 18g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 72g | Fiber: 11g | Sodium: 480mg
About the cook who shared this
DeShawn Carter
Week 225 of DeShawn’s 30-year story
· Detroit, Michigan
DeShawn is a thirty-six-year-old single dad, auto plant worker, and a man who didn't learn to cook until his wife left and his five-year-old asked, "Daddy, can you cook something?" He called his mama, who came over with two bags of groceries and spent six months teaching him the basics. Now he's the dad at the cookout who brings the ribs, the guy at the plant whose leftover gumbo starts fights, and living proof that it's never too late to learn.