Green Onion Tartar Sauce

March 2024. Spring in Memphis, and I am 65, watching the azaleas and dogwoods bloom along my neighborhood walk, the annual resurrection that makes the winter worth surviving. The smoker wakes up in spring the way the whole city wakes up — slowly, with a stretch, then fully, with purpose.

Rosetta beside me through the week, steady as ever, the woman who runs this household with the precision of a hospital ward and the heart of a mother who has loved fiercely for 40 years of marriage. The BBQ class at the community center continues — students of all ages learning fire and smoke, and me learning that teaching is its own kind of cooking: you prepare, you present, you hope something sticks.

I smoked a pork shoulder this week — the king, the classic, fourteen hours over hickory. The bark was dark and the smoke ring deep and the meat fell apart in my hands with the familiar magic of something that has been loved patiently. I served it on white bread with coleslaw and vinegar sauce, the way Uncle Clyde taught me, the way I teach everyone who stands next to my smoker, because the serving is the tradition and the tradition is the point.

The week ended on the porch with Rosetta, the evening settling over Orange Mound, the smoker cooling in the backyard. The fire was banked but not out — it's never out, just resting between cooks, holding the heat the way I hold the tradition: carefully, permanently, with the understanding that what Uncle Clyde gave me is not mine to keep but mine to pass, and the passing is the purpose.

Pork shoulder and catfish — in Orange Mound, they’ve always lived on the same table, just on different nights. After fourteen hours tending a hickory fire and thinking hard about what Uncle Clyde passed down and what I’m still responsible for passing forward, I found myself craving something that cooks in minutes but carries the same kind of weight: a good, sharp, green-onion tartar sauce, the kind that makes a golden slab of fried catfish sing. It’s the sauce Rosetta keeps asking me to write down, and this week — porch, evening light, smoker cooling in the yard — finally felt like the right time to do it.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 8 (about 1 cup)

Ingredients

3/4 cup mayonnaise
3 tablespoons dill pickle relish, drained
3 green onions, thinly sliced (white and green parts)
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon hot sauce (such as Crystal or Tabasco)
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

Combine the base. In a small bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, dill pickle relish, and Dijon mustard until smooth and evenly combined.
Add the aromatics. Stir in the sliced green onions, lemon juice, hot sauce, and garlic powder. Mix well so the green onion is distributed throughout.
Season and taste. Add salt and black pepper to taste. Taste the sauce and adjust — more lemon for brightness, more hot sauce for heat, more relish for sweetness and tang.
Rest before serving. Cover and refrigerate for at least 15 minutes before serving. This rest time lets the flavors settle and the green onion mellow into the sauce. Serve cold alongside fried catfish, hush puppies, or any simply fried fish.

Nutrition (per serving)

Green Onion Tartar Sauce — The Sauce That Belongs Beside a Cast-Iron Catfish