April. The garden is the saving grace. While the world is locked inside, I'm outside every morning at 6 AM, before the kids wake, watering and weeding and talking to tomato plants that don't care about pandemics. The pandemic garden is bigger than any previous year: six raised beds now, planted with everything I can grow — lettuce, spinach, peas, radishes, kale, tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, squash, herbs. It's not about hobby anymore. It's about food security, about knowing that if the supply chain breaks (it won't, probably, but the cancer survivor in me plans for worst cases), my family can eat from our own dirt.
Mason has become my full-time garden assistant. He weeds with precision. He waters with care. He labels every row with handwritten stakes. He's started a garden journal, documenting growth rates and weather conditions, turning the garden into a science project because Mason turns everything into a science project. The garden journal has columns: "Date," "Plant," "Height," "Observation." Under one entry: "Basil is growing faster on the south side. Hypothesis: more sun." He is nine. This is normal Mason.
Lily's riding lessons resumed — outdoor only, masked, one-on-one with Janet. Lily galloped into the arena on Pepper and Janet said, "She hasn't lost anything. Three weeks off and she's exactly where she was." Lily's response: "I practiced at home." She means she practiced on the couch, straddling the armrest, holding imaginary reins. Couch riding. The pandemic edition of equestrian training. Whatever works.
Tom brought groceries on Thursday. Not just his groceries — mine. He went to the store for both of us, masked and gloved, because he says, "You see dozens of animals at the clinic. The less you're in the store, the less risk." This is care. This is love expressed through grocery bags. This is a man who shows up with milk and eggs and the quiet certainty that taking care of someone is not a grand gesture but a Tuesday-with-groceries gesture, and the Tuesday gestures are the ones that matter.
I made a big batch of minestrone from the first spring harvest — lettuce, spinach, peas, radishes. Garden to pot, dirt to dinner. The soup was green and bright and tasted like the opposite of fear. Fear tastes like metal and hospitals and 3 AM Google searches. This soup tasted like sun and dirt and the defiant act of growing food when the world is growing crisis.
The minestrone that came out of that first spring harvest tasted like proof — proof that the ground still works, that seeds still keep their promises, that something good can come from tending to the things in your care. That soup became a weekly ritual, and it taught me that a pot of something made from scratch is never just dinner. This fish stew captures that same energy: bright, garden-forward, built from honest ingredients, and the kind of thing that feels like a Tuesday gesture — quiet, necessary, and full of love.
Fish Stew
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 lbs firm white fish fillets (cod, halibut, or tilapia), cut into 1 1/2-inch chunks
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 medium yellow onion, diced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 stalks celery, sliced
- 2 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into rounds
- 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
- 3 cups low-sodium vegetable or fish broth
- 1 cup dry white wine (or additional broth)
- 1 cup fresh or frozen peas
- 2 cups baby spinach, loosely packed
- 1 teaspoon dried thyme
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- Salt and black pepper, to taste
- 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped, for serving
- Crusty bread, for serving
Instructions
- Saute the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
- Build the base. Add carrots, diced tomatoes (with their juices), broth, and white wine. Stir in thyme and smoked paprika. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a gentle simmer. Cook uncovered for 12–15 minutes, until carrots are just tender.
- Add the fish. Season fish chunks with salt and pepper and gently nestle them into the simmering broth. Cook for 8–10 minutes, stirring gently once or twice, until the fish is opaque and flakes easily with a fork. Do not overcook.
- Finish with greens. Stir in peas and spinach during the last 2 minutes of cooking. The spinach will wilt quickly. Taste and adjust seasoning with salt and pepper as needed.
- Serve. Ladle into deep bowls and top with fresh parsley. Serve with crusty bread for soaking up the broth.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 235 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 14g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 420mg