“Eat it. Eat now. It is just one bite,” said the Garbageman’s Wife.
“No. The smell is killing me,” I replied.
“Now! You need it for good luck,” insisted the Garbageman.
“No. I am good with bad luck,” I said.
“Now. Your brother and sister already had theirs. You’ll sit here all day,” he said.
Three hours later, I held my nose and swallowed the sauerkraut in hopes that my newly digested good luck would come in the form of a boyfriend, front-page placement in the school newspaper and an “A” in math class. This tradition continued every year until I graduated from college and moved far enough away to not smell the annual stench of rotten cabbage that wafted across three state lines.
Living in Texas where they eat black peas and cabbage (the non-kraut, non-rotten still edible variety) on New Year’s Day, I no longer had to engage in the Pennsylvania Dutch Tradition of sauerkraut, pork, mashed potatoes (yet another food with a bizarre unappealing consistency that caused me to sit hours at the dinner table) and dumplings. Finally, I could eat pork and dumplings without them being tainted by lumps and putridity. Or, so I thought until my then boyfriend now husband decided that he wanted to go Pennsylvania Dutch for the New Year.
So for the past fifteen years, I have been stinking up my kitchen for my Texan and my half-Texan, half-Pennsylvanian children who mostly love sauerkraut. This year will be no different; I will throw two pork roasts into a pan loaded with lots of sauerkraut. Once the pork becomes tender and juicy, I will toss a Bisquick mixture over the bubbling juices to create fresh dumplings. Potatoes will be loosely mashed and mixed with butter and heavy cream on the stove-top. A small pot of black-eye peas will be warmed for the Texan by marriage. Much like the amalgamation that occurs when cornbread dressing and bread stuffing both appear on our table on Christmas Day; our New Year’s Day meal is truly a unification of cultures and childhood traditions.
After the New Year’s Day feast is complete, the family will commune at the table in a stench-filled dining room for a lucky meal. My boys will beg for more sauerkraut and mashed potatoes, and once again, I will hold my nose and digest a mouthful of stinky, rotten good luck. If sauerkraut is the taste of good luck, what is the taste of bad luck?
