April 2021. Spring in Memphis, and I am 62, watching the azaleas and dogwoods bloom along my neighborhood walk, the annual resurrection that makes the winter worth surviving. The smoker wakes up in spring the way the whole city wakes up — slowly, with a stretch, then fully, with purpose.
Rosetta beside me through the week, steady as ever, the woman who runs this household with the precision of a hospital ward and the heart of a mother who has loved fiercely for 37 years of marriage. The BBQ class at the community center continues — students of all ages learning fire and smoke, and me learning that teaching is its own kind of cooking: you prepare, you present, you hope something sticks.
I made smoked chicken this week — a simple cook that belies its depth. Rubbed with salt, pepper, garlic, and paprika, smoked at 275 over hickory for three hours. The skin was mahogany, the meat juicy, and the first bite carried the kind of flavor that makes you close your eyes, which is the highest compliment food can earn: the involuntary closing of the eyes, the body's admission that what it's tasting is too good to see.
Another week in the book. Another seven days of tending fires — the one in the smoker, the one in the marriage, the one in the family, the one in the church. Each fire needs something different: wood, attention, food, faith. But the tending is the same for all of them: show up, add what's needed, wait patiently, trust the process. Low and slow. Always. Low and slow.
Not every night belongs to the smoker. Rosetta’s the one who reminded me of that, years ago — she’d let me have my weekend fires and my hickory smoke, but come a Tuesday in April when the week had already asked plenty of everyone, she wanted something lighter, something the kitchen could offer without a three-hour wait. This broiled fish with tarragon sauce became that dish for us: quick enough for a weeknight, good enough to feel like you meant it, and elegant in the way that simple things are elegant when you don’t overthink them. Same principle as the smoker, really — good heat, good seasoning, and the patience to let the thing finish on its own terms.
Broiled Fish with Tarragon Sauce
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 22 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 4 firm white fish fillets (such as catfish, tilapia, or cod), about 6 oz each
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1 lemon, half sliced for serving, half juiced for sauce
- For the Tarragon Sauce:
- 1/2 cup mayonnaise
- 2 tablespoons fresh tarragon leaves, finely chopped (or 1 teaspoon dried tarragon)
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
- 1 small clove garlic, minced
- Salt and pepper to taste
Instructions
- Make the tarragon sauce. In a small bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, tarragon, lemon juice, Dijon mustard, and minced garlic until smooth. Season with salt and pepper. Cover and refrigerate until ready to serve — the sauce improves as it sits.
- Preheat the broiler. Set your oven broiler to high and position a rack about 6 inches from the heat source. Line a rimmed baking sheet with aluminum foil and lightly coat with cooking spray or a thin layer of oil.
- Prepare the fish. Pat fillets dry with paper towels — this is the step most people skip, and it’s the one that matters most for getting a good broiled surface. Brush both sides with olive oil and season evenly with salt, pepper, and garlic powder.
- Broil the fish. Arrange fillets in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Broil for 8–12 minutes, depending on thickness, until the tops are lightly golden and the fish flakes easily with a fork at its thickest point. There is no need to flip — the radiant heat does the work from above.
- Serve. Transfer fillets to plates immediately. Spoon the chilled tarragon sauce alongside or directly over each fillet. Garnish with lemon slices and a few extra tarragon leaves if you have them.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 295 | Protein: 31g | Fat: 17g | Carbs: 2g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 390mg