Cheese Topped Swordfish

The yellowjacket nest by the corral had to come down. I waited until midnight when it was cool and the wasps were sluggish and I stood twenty feet back and put a stream of foaming spray into the entrance hole at the base of the fence post. It went quietly. By morning I dug out what was left of the nest with a shovel — a paper structure the size of a football, with a few stragglers crawling out who had no fight left in them. I burned the nest in the firepit with a small fire of pine kindling. Some pests you regret. Yellowjackets in August by a corral where horses are tied are not a pest you regret.

Patrick is having a stretch of medium days. Not bad enough to scare us, not good enough to ride. He sits on the porch most of the morning and reads or does not read but pretends to. Mom has been sitting with him for an hour after breakfast every day. She used to leave him to read and go to her own work in the garden — you do not, after fifty-three years, sit with each other for entertainment — but the last month she has been sitting with him, and he has been letting her, and there is something happening between the two of them that I am not equipped to comment on except to notice it and stay out of the way. Marriages have late seasons. This is one.

I shod six horses across three days. Long ones. The Lavina place, the Reagan place, and a new client out in Big Timber who had two paint geldings and a drafty mule. The mule was a problem. Mules are clever in ways horses are not, and a clever animal that has decided not to participate is an animal you cannot work with by force. We took breaks. I let him stand. I let him think. I came back. After two hours we had three feet done and the fourth foot was a negotiation that resolved itself when he decided he was bored of being uncooperative and just gave up. The owner had told me he was a tough one. I told him after, I have seen tougher, but not many. The owner laughed. He paid me three hundred for the mule alone and three hundred for the two geldings and I drove home in the dusk with money in my pocket I did not strictly need but had earned.

I cooked two trout from the river Wednesday. Caught them at six in the morning before farrier work, cleaned them on the bank, came home, put them in the cast iron with butter and lemon and parsley from Mom's garden, ate them at seven-thirty with toast and coffee, was on the road to Big Timber by eight-fifteen. Some breakfasts are events. Most breakfasts are not. The trout breakfast is the kind of breakfast that has no business being as good as it is, and yet, every time, it is a meal that will outlast many fancier ones in the memory. The fish was that morning out of the water. The butter was Mom's. The toast was Mom's sourdough. The recipe is no recipe, it is a sequence of luck and attention.

Cole called Saturday from Bozeman. Tara is pregnant. Ten weeks. Due in late February. He told me before he told Mom and Patrick because he wanted to know how to tell them, especially Patrick. I said, You just tell him. I said, Patrick has been waiting for some good news. I said, This is what good news is for. He came down Sunday and brought Tara and they told them at lunch. Mom cried. Patrick did the thing he does, which is to look at something on the wall behind the person who has just told him something for ten seconds before reacting, and then he reached out his hand to Tara — the hand was shaking — and she took it, and he said, A grandbaby. He said, A Gallagher grandbaby. He did not let go of her hand for a long minute. Tara cried. Mom cried more. Cole was wet around the eyes. I went out to the porch because I was not going to be useful crying in that kitchen, and I stood on the porch and cried for two minutes and came back in and helped clear the dishes. A grandbaby. Patrick will be alive for the birth. February is six months away. He will be alive. I am letting myself say that. The trajectory is what it is but February is six months and Patrick will be alive and he will hold this baby and I am banking that fact like firewood for whatever winter comes after.

That trout breakfast has been on my mind all week — the way a meal that asks almost nothing of you can still land like something ceremonial. I wanted to write down the closest thing to a recipe for it, but the honest version is just: fresh fish, hot butter, and attention. The Cheese Topped Swordfish below is that same spirit, dressed up only slightly — a skillet fish with a golden, savory crust that comes together before the coffee finishes brewing, and that you will remember longer than meals that cost ten times the effort. Make it on a morning that deserves it. After the week this ranch had, we needed one.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 swordfish steaks (about 6 oz each, 3/4 inch thick)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
Salt and black pepper to taste
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/2 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
3 tablespoons mayonnaise
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped (for garnish)
Lemon wedges, for serving

Instructions

Prepare the cheese topping. In a small bowl, stir together the cheddar, mayonnaise, Parmesan, garlic powder, and onion powder until combined. Set aside.
Season the fish. Pat swordfish steaks dry with paper towels. Season both sides generously with salt and black pepper.
Sear the fish. Heat butter and olive oil in a cast iron or heavy oven-safe skillet over medium-high heat. When butter is foaming, add swordfish steaks. Sear without moving for 4–5 minutes until a golden crust forms on the bottom.
Flip and add lemon. Flip each steak carefully. Squeeze lemon juice over the tops. Cook another 3–4 minutes until the fish is nearly cooked through (it should flake at the thickest point but still look slightly opaque at center).
Add the cheese topping. Turn your oven broiler to high. Spread a generous layer of the cheese mixture over the top of each steak. Transfer the skillet to the broiler and broil for 2–3 minutes, watching closely, until the topping is golden and bubbling.
Rest and serve. Remove from the broiler and let rest 2 minutes. Garnish with fresh parsley and serve immediately with lemon wedges and toasted sourdough if you have it.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cheese Topped Swordfish — The Fish Breakfast That Has No Business Being This Good