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Chunky Cod Stir-Fry — When You Cook for Seventy and Then Cook for One

The week after Bernice's funeral. The house is quiet in the way it gets after a death — not empty, just heavier. Grief adds weight to rooms. You walk in and the air is denser. The chair where you sit is lower. The food on the plate is more solid. Everything has gravity after a death, because the world is reminding you that it's real, and real things have weight, and weight is what keeps you here when part of you wants to float away.

I called Clarence — my brother, the fifth sibling, seventy-two, in Macon. He sounded old on the phone. Not old the way I sound old — which is, I'm told, like a woman who is done tolerating nonsense. Old the way tired people sound. He said, "Dot, I don't want to be next." I said, "Clarence, nobody wants to be next. That's why we eat our greens and take our medicine and stay close to the people who love us." He said, "You sound like Mama." I said, "Thank you." He said, "It wasn't entirely a compliment." I laughed. He laughed. Laughing after a funeral is not disrespectful, baby. It's proof of life.

I called Ruthie Mae in Augusta. She's seventy-one, the baby of the family, and she sounded different too — not grief-different, but confused-different. She asked me the same question twice. She told me a story about Mama that she told me last week. I noticed. I didn't say anything. But I noticed, and I will keep noticing, because some changes are gradual and the people closest to them don't see them and the people at a distance do.

I made catfish and hushpuppies tonight — Bernice's funeral food, her favorites, which I cooked for seventy people and now I'm cooking for one. The catfish was golden. The hushpuppies were crisp. I ate them at the table with hot sauce and I thought about Bernice in her kitchen reaching for peaches on the top shelf, and I thought: the shelf was too high. Everything we lose, we lose because something was just out of reach.

Now go on and feed somebody.

I didn’t go back to catfish right away — I couldn’t. But a few days later I needed a fish skillet, something with heft and warmth and a reason to stand at the stove, because standing at the stove is how I stay tethered. This chunky cod stir-fry isn’t Bernice’s catfish, but it’s close enough in spirit — golden, savory, something real on a plate — and sometimes close enough is all you’ve got. Cook it for yourself, or cook it for somebody who needs feeding. Either way, get to the stove.

Chunky Cod Stir-Fry

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 18 min | Total Time: 28 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 lbs cod fillets, cut into 1 1/2-inch chunks
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
  • 1 medium yellow onion, sliced thin
  • 1 red bell pepper, seeded and sliced
  • 1 green bell pepper, seeded and sliced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
  • 1 tablespoon low-sodium soy sauce
  • 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
  • 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
  • 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped
  • Salt to taste

Instructions

  1. Season the cod. Pat cod chunks dry with paper towels. Season on all sides with smoked paprika, black pepper, and a pinch of salt. Set aside.
  2. Sear the fish. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large skillet or wok over medium-high heat. Add cod chunks in a single layer and cook undisturbed for 3 minutes until golden on the bottom. Gently flip and cook another 2–3 minutes. Transfer to a plate and tent loosely with foil.
  3. Cook the vegetables. Add the remaining tablespoon of olive oil to the same pan. Add onion and bell peppers and stir-fry over medium-high heat for 4–5 minutes until just softened and beginning to char at the edges.
  4. Add aromatics. Push vegetables to the side and add garlic to the center of the pan. Cook 30 seconds until fragrant, then stir everything together.
  5. Add tomatoes and sauce. Stir in cherry tomatoes, soy sauce, lemon juice, and red pepper flakes if using. Cook 2–3 minutes until tomatoes begin to release their juices.
  6. Return the fish. Gently nestle the seared cod back into the pan. Spoon the vegetables and pan juices over the top. Cook 1–2 minutes just to warm through — do not stir hard or the fish will break apart.
  7. Finish and serve. Remove from heat, scatter fresh parsley over the top, and serve immediately over rice or with crusty bread to catch the juices.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 230 | Protein: 32g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 9g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 380mg

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?