Pea ’n’ Peanut Salad — The Side That Shows Up Every Time the Cast Iron Does

Fourth of July. Cookout in the backyard. Ribs on the smoker since 6 AM. Burgers on the kettle. Watermelon on ice. The kids in the yard with sparklers at dusk. The neighbors brought a dish each. The block was the block.

Pop's tireder. Sugar runs low some days. Mama monitors. Pop complains. The system holds. Sunday at Mama's. She made greens with hambone the way she has since 1985.

Fish fry Friday. Catfish. Seasoned cornmeal. Cast iron at three-seventy-five.

Aiden's 11. The youth basketball league. I'm coaching. He's the best player on the team and he knows it. Zaria's 8. Helps me cook on a step stool. Has opinions about the seasoning.

I sat on the back porch with a beer and looked at the smoker and thought about nothing for an hour.

The custody calendar holds. Aiden and Zaria alternate weeks. Brianna and I co-parent without drama now. We do not always have to like each other to do this right.

Filled the propane tank Wednesday. The smoker is the only appliance I baby. Wiped it down. Checked the gaskets. Checked the temperature gauge. The smoker is mine the way Pop's torque wrench was his.

The kids next door knocked over my trash cans Tuesday night. Their dad made them help me clean up Wednesday morning. Good man. The kids apologized. I gave them each a Capri Sun. Cycle complete.

I took a walk around the block Sunday morning. The neighborhood was quiet. The trees were the trees. The light was good. I waved at three porches. The porches waved back. Brookline holds.

Drove past Jefferson North on Tuesday. The plant is still the plant. The trucks coming out. I waved at the gate guard out of habit. He waved back even though he didn't know me. The plant is its own neighborhood.

I made grocery lists on the back of envelopes the way Mama did. The list this week was short — onions, garlic, half-and-half, cornmeal, a pound of bacon. The list is the recipe of the week before it happens.

Stopped at Eastern Market Saturday. Got chicken thighs, bacon, a watermelon, and a pound of greens that I did not need but bought anyway. The vendors know me by name now. Three of them asked about the family.

Truck needed an oil change Saturday. Did it myself in the driveway. Took an hour. The neighbor across the street gave me a thumbs-up from his porch. I gave him one back. Detroit men do not waste words on car maintenance.

The block had a small drama Tuesday. Somebody parked in front of Ms. Diane's driveway. Ms. Diane addressed it directly. The car moved within the hour. The neighborhood polices itself on small things.

I read for an hour Sunday night. A book about the auto industry. Half memoir, half history. Made me think about Pop and the line and the fragile contract that built the middle of this country. I underlined the parts that hit.

A song came on the radio Tuesday — old Stevie Wonder — and I had to sit in the truck for the rest of it before I went into the store. Some songs do that. Detroit is a city of songs that do that.

I cleaned the smoker Sunday morning. Brushed the grates. Emptied the ash. Wiped down the body. The smoker repays attention. So does most everything that matters.

Mama left me a voicemail Wednesday. She said, "DeShawn. Don't forget Sunday." I had not forgotten Sunday. I have not forgotten Sunday in twenty years. The reminder is the love. I called her back.

Fish fry Friday at three-seventy-five in cast iron doesn’t need much company — but it needs something cold, something that can sit on the counter while the catfish finishes, something Zaria will eat without negotiating. This Pea ’n’ Peanut Salad is that dish. I started making it because it uses what’s already in the cabinet, it comes together fast, and it tastes like the kind of thing somebody’s auntie brought to the Fourth of July and didn’t leave with any left over.

Pea ’n’ Peanut Salad

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes (plus 30 minutes chilling) | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 1 (16 oz) package frozen sweet peas, thawed
• 1 cup dry-roasted peanuts
• 1/2 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
• 1/3 cup finely diced red onion
• 1/2 cup sour cream
• 2 tablespoons mayonnaise
• 1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon sugar

Instructions

1. Drain the peas. After thawing, spread the peas on a clean towel or paper towels and pat dry. Excess moisture will thin the dressing and make the salad watery.
2. Make the dressing. In a large bowl, whisk together the sour cream, mayonnaise, apple cider vinegar, garlic powder, salt, pepper, and sugar until smooth and combined.
3. Combine. Add the peas, peanuts, cheddar, and red onion to the bowl. Fold gently until everything is evenly coated in the dressing. Avoid overmixing — you want the peanuts to keep their crunch.
4. Chill. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before serving. This lets the flavors settle and the dressing firm up slightly.
5. Serve cold. Taste and adjust salt and pepper just before serving. This salad holds well for up to 24 hours in the refrigerator — stir gently before serving if it’s been sitting.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 290 | Protein: 12g | Fat: 20g | Carbs: 16g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 380mg