Blackened Tilapia With Zucchini Noodles

Christmas. Noche Buena at the Mountain View house, and the table has grown — Lourdes, Angela, James, Jason, and me. Five people now. The apartment in Mountain View was designed for a family of six and has never complained about hosting fewer, but tonight it felt full in the way it used to, when Reynaldo was alive and four children filled the rooms with noise and the kitchen was the center of everything.

The food was the same. It's always the same. The lechon kawali shattered. The ham glistened with pineapple glaze. Angela's fruit salad sat in its bowl like a sweet, condensed-milk monument. The queso de bola was sliced into orange wedges. My leche flan trembled on its plate. And the salmon sinigang — Reynaldo's recipe, always — steamed in the center, the tamarind broth sour and the salmon pink and the kangkong wilted and the whole pot a memorial in liquid form.

Jason gave Lourdes the apron. She held it up and read "Ate Lourdes" and her face went through several expressions in quick succession — surprise, confusion, understanding, and then something softer, something wet around the eyes that she immediately covered by saying, "It needs to be longer. I'm short, not invisible." She put it on immediately. She cooked the rest of the evening in the Ate Lourdes apron. When she thought no one was looking, she touched the embroidery with her fingertips. I was looking. I'm always looking.

Midnight mass at St. Patrick's. The church was full. Lourdes sang the hymns. Jason stood next to me in the pew, his shoulder against mine, solid and warm and here. Reynaldo's absence was present — it's always present at Christmas, the chair, the voice, the man who would have been sixty-three and who would have eaten three servings of everything and complained that the sinigang needed more tamarind. He would have liked Jason. I know this the way I know the recipe: in my bones, below thought, in the place where the dead and the living share a kitchen.

After mass, tsokolate and bibingka at the Mountain View house. The batidor whirred. The chocolate was thick. The night was holy in the way that Filipino Christmas nights are holy — with food and family and the particular sacredness of a kitchen where the dead are remembered through the recipes they left behind. Three Christmases since the floor. Each one a little fuller. Each one a little warmer. The light is returning. It always returns.

Salmon sinigang has always been Reynaldo’s dish — the one we don’t touch, don’t substitute, don’t improve. But on the ordinary weeknights between Christmases, when I want that same feeling of a fish centered on the table and the family gathered around it, I come back to this blackened tilapia. The spice crust is not tamarind, and the zucchini is not kangkong, but there’s something in the heat of the pan and the smell of the fish that brings me back to the Mountain View kitchen — to Lourdes in her apron, to Jason’s shoulder in the pew, to the particular holiness of a table that has learned to be full again.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 tilapia fillets (about 6 oz each)
2 medium zucchini, spiralized into noodles
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
2 teaspoons smoked paprika
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Lemon wedges, for serving
Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

Make the blackening spice. In a small bowl, combine smoked paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, cayenne, thyme, oregano, salt, and black pepper. Stir until evenly mixed.
Season the tilapia. Pat the tilapia fillets dry with paper towels. Press the spice mixture firmly onto both sides of each fillet, coating evenly.
Blacken the fish. Heat olive oil and 1 tablespoon of butter in a large cast-iron or heavy skillet over medium-high heat until the butter is melted and the pan is very hot. Add tilapia fillets and cook undisturbed for 3 to 4 minutes per side, until the crust is deeply charred at the edges and the fish flakes easily with a fork. Work in batches if needed to avoid crowding. Transfer to a plate and tent loosely with foil.
Saute the zucchini noodles. In the same skillet over medium heat, melt the remaining 1 tablespoon of butter. Add the spiralized zucchini and toss for 2 to 3 minutes until just tender but not mushy. Season lightly with salt and pepper.
Plate and serve. Divide the zucchini noodles among four plates and lay a blackened tilapia fillet over each portion. Garnish with fresh parsley and serve immediately with lemon wedges for squeezing over the top.

Nutrition (per serving)

Blackened Tilapia With Zucchini Noodles — The Fish Dish That Carried Us to the Table