Flounder Florentine

The garden preparation begins. Mom and I spent Tuesday doing the bed renovation — adding compost, reordering the rows, expanding the herb section the way she planned in January. The medicinal herb section is in now: echinacea, calendula, valerian, lemon balm, the lavender we moved from the fence section. She has plans for each plant that are more specific than I can track. I do the digging and she does the knowing. That's a good division of labor.

The solitude essay is in the spring issue of the magazine. The response has been the largest for any single column in the series — twenty-seven letters, which the editor said was more than she'd received for any single piece in the magazine's history. The piece seemed to find people who were in the specific situation it described and who had never had language for it. That's what you hope for. That's exactly what you hope for.

Clare Whelan extended her visit by three days, which Tom didn't complain about, which I noted as a sign that the balance between his independence and his need for company has shifted slightly in the past six months. He told me privately that having her here was easier than he expected. I said: She loves you and you know how to accept that now. He said: I've always known how to accept love. I said: You've gotten better at it. He considered that and said: Maybe. That's eighty-two years of independent Montana man saying yes.

Made a spring vegetable soup — asparagus, peas, spinach, leek, a bright clear broth. The lightest thing I've made since October. April soup. The right food for the week the garden starts.

The soup I made that Tuesday was the lightest thing to come out of my kitchen in months — and I wanted to stay in that register for the rest of the week. Flounder Florentine felt exactly right: a pale, thin fillet over a bed of dark spinach, almost no weight to it, the kind of meal that doesn’t assert itself. The garden was just getting started, Mom’s plans were in the ground, Tom had said maybe to something important — everything felt like it was opening slightly, and this dish matched that. You cook what the week asks for.

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

Ingredients

4 flounder fillets (about 6 oz each)
10 oz fresh baby spinach
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup low-sodium chicken or vegetable broth
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan cheese
Lemon wedges, for serving

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 400°F. Lightly oil a large baking dish and set aside.
Wilt the spinach. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add garlic and cook 30 seconds until fragrant. Add spinach in batches, tossing until fully wilted, about 3–4 minutes. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Spread the wilted spinach evenly across the bottom of the prepared baking dish.
Season the fish. Pat flounder fillets dry with paper towels. Season both sides with salt, black pepper, and red pepper flakes. Lay fillets in a single layer over the spinach bed.
Make the pan sauce. In the same skillet, add remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil over medium-high heat. Pour in white wine and broth, bring to a simmer, and cook 2–3 minutes until slightly reduced. Swirl in butter and lemon juice until butter is melted and sauce is glossy.
Assemble and bake. Pour the pan sauce evenly over the fillets. Sprinkle Parmesan over the top. Bake uncovered for 12–15 minutes, until fish flakes easily with a fork and the edges are just beginning to turn golden.
Serve. Spoon spinach and sauce onto plates, top with a flounder fillet, and serve immediately with lemon wedges alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Flounder Florentine — The Lightest Thing I’ve Made Since October