Hoppin Scotch

Dear Maria,

Happy New Year! That first, of course. The roses bloomed—not much of a surprise—and are still alive and, well we shall see. The birds have been mobbing the feeder, and the female bluebird returned to the condo yesterday. Weeds are nicely green—my neighbor mowed her grass again, but I think that is only because she adores her new riding mower. The kind I might get if I had several acres or more to tend. Maybe some machine envy, but misplaced.

My roses are puny compared to what I see around town, but they are an experiment in less sun and so I am partial to their show. All the new ones in the ground at Publix are blooming with multiple flowers. They replaced the cypress trees that you may remember. Those trees were never a great choice for the space, but now the roses will thrive and make for a better landscape—well, too much of a word there, but you know what I mean.

While in the store yesterday, I nearly walked into the buggy of a former colleague. As matter of the chitchat, she asked if I would be making Hoppin John. “No” I answered. Or should have answered. What I really said was “No, just my own concoction”.

“You should make Hoppin John.”

“I’m making Hoppin Scotch.” Witty me.

“What’s that?”

Hoppin’ nothing, but here we go. “Field peas, snaps, onion, bell pepper, chicken broth, kielbasa, a bit of left over marinara, garlic, rice, and a tablespoon of scotch for good luck.”

“That’s not Hoppin John.” At that point I wanted to go back to square one: She asked, I did say no.

“Nope.”

“I don’t know what kind of luck that will get you.”

Well, I thought, you do that voodoo that you do so well, and I will conjure as I conjure. Besides, how many times have I said that luck’s got nothing to do with it. Whether I believe that or not is another question. Please, don’t ask.

So I have my pot of Hoppin Scotch, and we have a new year upon us—though I think our little wind-ups on the calendar like birthdays and the advent of a new year not much more than some accounting notice. I know, just check the Other box.

Yes, I brought it to a boil. Yes, I simmered it for a good bit. Yes, I put scotch in—about a tablespoon. Had to. A matter of conscience. Might throw in some green peas, too. At the last minute—like them to have that little pop. Maybe not.

As for you and your kin, here’s hoping for a fantastic year ahead.

Yours, yours, and yours, srk