God, hes left as on aur oun.
Hoppin’ John.
Honestly, the dish being as Southern as it is, I find it much easier to believe it’s an elision of pois pigeons rather than a Northumbrian “hopping” held in honor of St. John the Evangelist. Charming though the latter undoubtedly would be.
I did finish something in 2006, and we did not look about last night and say, anything’s got to be better than that. (Which only means we now have somewhere from which to fall.) —This year? This year, I’m going to start to crack. This year, I will sell something.
Hop in, John.
