Pot Liquor

Or pot likker, if you prefer a more Southern twist on something that is already twistedly Southern. We were having a New Year's lunch at my parent's house and I volunteered to make the Collard Greens and black eyed peas. Traditional holiday fare, and wanting to continue my cooking experimentation, I was anxious to give these two dishes a whirl.

For some reason a giant pot of collards seemed like no easy feat. Turns out the hardest part was buying the enormous bunches of greens leaves at the HT yesterday. And it wasn't even the collard's fault. Stella was on a get-away mission down the produce aisle, trying to push a cumbersome pick-up truck of a cart. Upon my return from the grocery store trip that took three times longer than it ever should, I Googled cooking collard greens. They all said the same thing.

Wash the leaves, repeatedly.
Water
Salt
Bring to a boil, then simmer on low for at least an hour

There were a few spins on the directions. Many included ham hocks. I chose to leave the pig, er, behind. Lots of them mentioned cooking the leaves in vinegar. I figured this was better left to the green eat-ee. And I stumbled across one that suggested sauteeing onions in the bottom of the pot, then adding the water and greens. This seemed like a tasty idea. I also enjoyed the fact that they had a delightful serving suggestion.

Apparently the liquid that is accumulated after cooking the greens is chock full of vitamins, taste bud tantalizing deliciousness, and has an extracurricular activity. The Pot Liquor, or Pot Likker, can be sopped up with corn bread. Upon first glance Mark and I may not seem like sopping up type of folk, but when I read the tip outloud, the girlish giggling delight that erupted from Mark would say otherwise. And I have to say, before I even knew it had a name, I already had visions of what I always do when the leaves have been consumed and all that is left is a pool of greenish, cidery, salty vinegar. I take a piece of corn bread. I stick it in the now-forever-named Pot Liquor. And I sop that shizzle up.

There was much banter about Pot Liquor all morning while the giant greens simmered in the pan. As we ran our morning loop around the neighborhood, I found my belly sloshing about, starving for the promised money and good luck of our New Year's Day lunch menu.

We arrived at my parent's house with hearty appetites and a whole mess of greens and black eyed peas. As I opened my Collard Greens dish out of the bag, I instantly noticed a distinct amount of liquid on the outside of the container. The Pot Liquor had leaked. Everywhere. Mark and I collectively gasped at the misfortune. Someone said don't worry, we'll clean it up. But it wasn't the mess of the spill I was concerned with, it was the fact that the Pot Likker had oozed out of the container, leaving us with what seemed like little to no chance of sopping anything up with corn bread. In fact, so much of the liquid was gone, it seemed there would be little point to try a sneaky plate licking, if one dared to be so crude.

Upon further investigation, and clean up, it turns out that we had enough good stuff to do whatever we wanted with the juices of our greens and vinegar and corn bread. We were all able to get plenty pot liquored up on good fortune for 2011. Mark consumed a a fair amount of pork roast, too, so I think we should be set.

Money. Check. Good fortune. Check. Prosperity. Check. A reason to say Pot Likker. Super Check.