Cajun Pecan Catfish

March. Spring. The azaleas are beginning. Six years since the first blog post. Six years since I typed about the Cherokee Purples and the man in the recliner and the four hundred children at Hodge. Six years of food and grief and tomatoes and grandchildren and a book and a skillet and a question that has never changed: why do we cook?

We cook because we love. That's it. That's the answer. Six years of writing and that's the sentence I keep coming back to. We cook because we love and we can't always say it and the food says it for us. The shrimp and grits say it. The collard greens say it. The cornbread in the cast iron skillet says it louder than any word I've ever typed with my one finger on this iPad.

The cooking class is in week three — Frogmore stew this week. Thomas came back. He's been to every class. His technique is clumsy but his attention is fierce, and he told me this week that he made she-crab soup at home last weekend for the first time. By himself. In his kitchen. He said, "It wasn't as good as yours." I said, "It wasn't supposed to be. It was supposed to be yours." He smiled. First smile I've seen from him. The soup cracked him open.

The garden is planted. Cherokee Purples, Sapelo peppers, okra, herbs. The same every year. The same faith. Kayla helped — she's better at planting now, less careful, more confident, digging into the dirt with hands that know the soil isn't fragile. Soil is the opposite of fragile. Soil is what holds everything up.

Made Frogmore stew tonight — practice for the class and love for the tradition. Shrimp, sausage, corn, potatoes. The splash of vinegar. The kitchen smelled like September even though it's March, because some recipes carry their own season.

Now go on and feed somebody.

The Frogmore stew is already in this week’s lesson plan, and I’ll share that recipe here one day soon — but after watching Thomas finally smile, after planting the Cherokee Purples with Kayla’s confident dirt-covered hands, what I kept thinking about was the broader Southern table we’re all building together in that classroom. This Cajun Pecan Catfish has that same spirit: bold seasoning, humble fish, a crust that surprises you with how much warmth a simple thing can hold. It’s the kind of recipe that doesn’t ask you to be fancy — it just asks you to pay attention, same as Thomas does.

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

Ingredients

4 catfish fillets (about 6 oz each)
3/4 cup pecans, finely chopped
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons Cajun seasoning
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon onion powder
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 eggs, beaten
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
Lemon wedges, for serving
Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

Make the crust. In a shallow bowl, combine the chopped pecans, flour, Cajun seasoning, smoked paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, black pepper, and salt. Mix well until evenly blended.
Prep the fillets. Pat the catfish fillets dry with paper towels. Dip each fillet in the beaten egg, letting any excess drip off, then press firmly into the pecan mixture on both sides to coat.
Heat the pan. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, melt the butter with the olive oil. Once the butter is foamy and just beginning to brown, the pan is ready.
Pan-fry the catfish. Add the coated fillets to the skillet without crowding. Cook for 5 to 7 minutes per side, until the pecan crust is deep golden brown and the fish flakes easily with a fork. Work in batches if needed.
Rest and serve. Transfer the fillets to a plate lined with paper towels and rest for 2 minutes. Garnish with fresh parsley and serve immediately with lemon wedges alongside rice, greens, or whatever the table is calling for.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cajun Pecan Catfish — The South on a Plate, Just Like She Taught Us