Baked Fish with Cheese Sauce for Two

Termination dust on the Chugach. The body still in winter mode. Two trauma cases stayed with me through the weekend. I cooked through them.

Lourdes is 76. She is slower. She still cooks. She still tells me to find a husband even though I have one. Joseph called from Kodiak Sunday. The fishing is good. The boats are running. He is fine.

I made arroz caldo Saturday. The rice porridge, the soft food, the dish for the body in transition.

The blog post on arroz caldo got picked up by a Filipino-American newsletter. Traffic doubled for two days. The traffic was the surprise.

Angela came over Saturday with the kids. We cooked. We argued about pancit proportions — she uses more soy, I use more calamansi. We are both wrong, according to Lourdes.

I sat at the kitchen table Sunday night with the bowl in front of me. The bowl was warm. The bowl was the prayer.

The light was good Saturday morning. I sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched the inlet for forty minutes. The watching was the small therapy. The therapy was free.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

I made coffee at six AM. The coffee was the start. The start was always the same.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced the Saturday gathering. I will be on lumpia duty. I am always on lumpia duty.

The break room had cake Tuesday. Someone's birthday. We ate the cake. We did not ask whose birthday. The cake was the cake.

Angela texted me a photo of the kids. I texted back a heart. The exchange took thirty seconds. The thirty seconds was the keeping.

I drove the Glenn Highway out to Eklutna on Saturday. The mountains were the mountains. The lake was the lake. The body needed the open road. The open road did its work.

Auntie Norma called Sunday to ask if I had a recipe for a particular merienda from Iloilo. I did not. I said I would ask Lourdes. I asked Lourdes. Lourdes had it. The chain.

I had a long phone call with Dr. Reeves on Wednesday. We talked about pacing and rest and the way the body keeps a log of what it has carried. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The body remembers. The mind forgets. The cooking is the bridge." I wrote the line down. The line is now on a sticky note above the kitchen sink.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced a fundraiser for typhoon relief in Samar. I committed to making three hundred lumpia. The number is the number. The number has always been the number. Three hundred is what I make. The math has stopped surprising me.

The neighbors invited us over for a small dinner Thursday. They are an Iñupiaq family — Aana and her grandson Joe. We ate caribou stew and rice. I brought lumpia. The kitchens of Anchorage have always been the small UN. The food is the proof.

I taught a Saturday morning Kain Na class on basic adobo proportions for new cooks. Eleven people in the kitchen. Half of them had never cooked Filipino food before. By eleven AM the kitchen smelled the way it should smell. By noon they were all eating. The eating was the lesson landing.

A reader from New Jersey wrote in about her grandmother's adobo, which used pineapple. I had never heard of pineapple in adobo. I tried it. It was strange. It was also good. The strange and the good are not opposites.

Joseph called from Kodiak to say the fishing was good, and I thought about that when I pulled the fish from the freezer Sunday night — the boats running, the fish coming in, the water doing what water does. I had made the arroz caldo for the softness of it, but I wanted something for Pete and me that felt like a real dinner, something quiet and warm without asking anything of either of us. Baked fish with a cheese sauce is exactly that kind of meal: it has no argument in it, no strong opinions, nothing to negotiate. It is just the table, the light, and the bowl doing its work.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 22 min | Total Time: 32 min | Servings: 2

Ingredients

2 white fish fillets (6 oz each), such as cod, halibut, or rockfish
1 tbsp olive oil or melted butter
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
1/4 tsp paprika
For the cheese sauce:
1 tbsp unsalted butter
1 tbsp all-purpose flour
3/4 cup whole milk, warmed
1/2 cup sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
1/4 tsp garlic powder
1/4 tsp dry mustard
Salt and white pepper to taste
1 tbsp fresh parsley, chopped (optional, for garnish)

Instructions

Preheat. Heat oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a small baking dish just large enough to hold the two fillets in a single layer.
Season the fish. Pat fillets dry with paper towels. Brush both sides with olive oil or melted butter, then season evenly with salt, pepper, and paprika. Arrange in the prepared baking dish.
Bake. Bake uncovered for 18–20 minutes, until the fish flakes easily with a fork and the center is opaque. Thicker fillets may need the full 20 minutes.
Make the cheese sauce. While the fish bakes, melt butter in a small saucepan over medium-low heat. Whisk in flour and cook for 1 minute, stirring constantly, until the mixture smells slightly nutty. Gradually pour in warm milk, whisking continuously to prevent lumps. Cook 3–4 minutes, stirring, until sauce thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon.
Finish the sauce. Remove from heat. Stir in shredded cheddar, garlic powder, and dry mustard until the cheese is fully melted and smooth. Season with salt and white pepper. If the sauce thickens too much, whisk in a splash of milk.
Plate and serve. Transfer fillets to plates or serve directly from the baking dish. Spoon the warm cheese sauce generously over each fillet. Garnish with chopped parsley if using. Serve immediately with steamed rice or crusty bread.

Nutrition (per serving)

Baked Fish with Cheese Sauce for Two — The Bowl Was Warm, the Bowl Was the Prayer