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Fish Taco Bites -- Because Seven-Year-Olds Are Always Hungry, and Hunger Is the Life Force

Elijah turns seven. June 15th. The birthday that comes two weeks after his first pet death. The birthday that I was worried would be: sad. It was not sad. It was: LOUD. Because Elijah Mitchell is seven and seven is LOUD and the loudness is: the grief processed, the loss absorbed, the boy who buried a fish and then decided — on his own, without prompting — that the best way to honor Blaze Three is to live LOUDLY in his absence. The boy is: a grief counselor for himself. The boy is: resilient. The boy is: seven.

The birthday gift: Blaze Four. Another betta fish. Orange, obviously. Purchased at PetSmart with Jayden, who accompanied Elijah on the fish-selection mission with the seriousness of a military adviser choosing equipment. They stood in front of the betta fish display for twenty-three minutes. Twenty-three minutes of evaluating orange levels. "That one's more red than orange." "That one's too pale." "THAT ONE." The chosen fish: a deep, vivid orange betta with fins that fan out like a sunset. Blaze Four. The successor. The dynasty continues.

Elijah's first words to Blaze Four: "Hello. You are Blaze Four. I will tell you that you are a good fish every day. Because I know now that you might die. But I will love you anyway." I will love you anyway. My seven-year-old. The boy who learned that love doesn't prevent loss and decided that the response to that lesson is: love anyway. I will love you ANYWAY. The sentence is: the thesis of my entire life. Love anyway. Marcus left — love anyway. Danny left — love anyway. The AC broke — love anyway. The money ran out — love anyway. Love anyway. The Mitchell family motto, spoken by a seven-year-old to an orange fish in a PetSmart parking lot. I am: undone. I am: proud. I am: raising a philosopher who eats mango and talks to fish.

Birthday party at the restaurant. Theme: ocean (because of the fish, because the fish is the new center of Elijah's universe, because when a Mitchell loses something they don't turn away from the thing — they dive deeper into it). Blue decorations. Blue tablecloths. Chloe made an ocean-themed cake: blue frosting with orange fish made of fondant swimming across the top. Five orange fish on the cake. One for each year of knowing Blaze. The cake was: beautiful and heartbreaking and exactly right.

Terrence came. He brought Elijah a ukulele (the man cannot stop bringing instruments — the keyboard, the guitar, now a ukulele, Elijah is accumulating a one-man-band setup one birthday at a time). The ukulele is: orange. The ukulele is: small enough for seven-year-old hands. Elijah played it immediately and the sound was: chaos. Beautiful, orange, seven-year-old chaos.

Birthday dinner: fish tacos. Not because the fish reminded anyone of Blaze Three. Because fish tacos are delicious and Elijah asked for them and the asking was: normal. The normal is: the healing. The normal is: the boy who grieved and then chose a new fish and then ate a fish taco and the eating was: not ironic, not sad, just: hungry. Seven-year-olds are always hungry. The hunger is: the life force. The taco is: the fuel. Amen.

Elijah asked for fish tacos for his birthday dinner, and I want to be clear: there was no irony in that request. There was no sadness. There was just a seven-year-old who loves tacos and was hungry after twenty-three minutes of very serious fish evaluation at PetSmart. These fish taco bites are exactly what that night called for — small enough for little hands, crispy enough to feel like a celebration, and simple enough that the real centerpiece of the evening could be a boy, an orange ukulele, and a brand-new betta fish named Blaze Four. I’ll be making these every June 15th from here on out.

Fish Taco Bites

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 lbs white fish fillets (cod, tilapia, or mahi-mahi), cut into 1-inch pieces
  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon chili powder
  • 1 teaspoon cumin
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 2 eggs, beaten
  • 1 cup panko breadcrumbs
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil (for pan-frying) or cooking spray (for baking)
  • 24 small corn tortillas or tortilla chip scoops
  • 1 cup shredded purple cabbage
  • 1/2 cup pico de gallo or fresh salsa
  • 1/4 cup sour cream or Mexican crema
  • 2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped
  • 1 lime, cut into wedges
  • Hot sauce, to serve

Instructions

  1. Season the flour. In a shallow bowl, whisk together the flour, chili powder, cumin, garlic powder, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper.
  2. Set up the breading station. Place beaten eggs in a second shallow bowl and the panko breadcrumbs in a third. Line them up: seasoned flour, egg, panko.
  3. Bread the fish. Working in batches, dredge each fish piece in the seasoned flour, shaking off any excess. Dip into the egg, then press into the panko until fully coated.
  4. Cook the fish. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Cook fish bites in a single layer, 2—3 minutes per side, until golden brown and cooked through. Work in batches to avoid crowding. Alternatively, arrange on a greased baking sheet and bake at 425°F for 15—18 minutes, flipping once halfway.
  5. Warm the tortillas. Heat small corn tortillas directly over a gas burner or in a dry skillet for 30 seconds per side until pliable and lightly charred at the edges.
  6. Assemble the bites. Place one or two fish pieces onto each tortilla. Top with a pinch of shredded cabbage, a small spoonful of pico de gallo, and a drizzle of sour cream.
  7. Finish and serve. Scatter fresh cilantro over the assembled bites. Arrange on a platter with lime wedges and hot sauce on the side. Serve immediately while the fish is still crispy.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 24g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 420mg

Sarah Mitchell
About the cook who shared this
Sarah Mitchell
Week 475 of Sarah’s 30-year story · Nashville, Tennessee
Sarah is a single mom of three, a dental hygienist, and a Nashville girl through and through. She started cooking at eleven out of necessity — feeding her younger siblings while her mama worked double shifts — and never stopped. Her kitchen is tiny, her budget is tight, and her chicken and dumplings will make you want to cry. She writes for every mom who's ever felt like she's not doing enough. Spoiler: you are.

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