Mahi Mahi with Chimichurri Sauce & Broccolini

Puerto Rico. With Eduardo. First trip together in nine years. We arrived at SJU Tuesday afternoon. Marisol picked us up. The air hit us on the jet bridge. Eduardo closed his eyes and inhaled for maybe ten seconds. He said, "I had forgotten." I said, "That is why we are here."

Wednesday we went to Old San Juan. We walked the colonial streets. We ate pastries at La Bombonera — Eduardo had a mallorca, the sweet egg-washed bread, dusted with powdered sugar, stuffed with ham and cheese and pressed — and I watched him eat it and he watched me watch him and we did not say anything because we did not need to. He was home. He had not been home in a long time. Puerto Rico is home for both of us, differently. He left as a young man. I left as a young woman. We have been away different amounts of time. The island is the same.

Thursday Marisol drove us to Ponce to see Eduardo's cousin Luisito, who is seventy and runs a small hotel. We stayed two nights. Ponce has a seafood kiosk street that Eduardo had been telling stories about for thirty years, and on Friday night we ate at three different kiosks — empanadillas at one, pinchos at the second, a plate of whole fried red snapper at the third — and we walked between them with our hands full and we laughed and Eduardo was forty years old in his face, even though he is sixty, and I was thirty, even though I am fifty-eight.

Saturday we went to the beach at Boquerón. The water was the color of a blue I cannot describe without crying. We swam for an hour. Eduardo is not a strong swimmer but he is a dedicated one, and in the warm Caribbean he floated on his back and looked at the sky and said, "Carmen, this is what I remember." I said, "Me too." We ate snapper for lunch at a beachfront place.

Sunday we went back to Marisol's in Bayamón. I made a mofongo for Marisol — with the island ingredients, in her pilón — and Eduardo watched me work and he said, "Your hands are faster when you are on the island." He was right. My hands knew the geography. The ingredients cooperated differently. Marisol ate her mofongo and said, "Carmen, you do not make this for me when you come alone. Why Eduardo gets mofongo?" I said, "Marisol, I cooked you dinner twenty times last year." She laughed. Eduardo laughed. The three of us sat at Marisol's kitchen table, the three of us who had been boricua children once, who are now boricua adults with the wrinkles to prove it, who have outlived some siblings and will outlive others, and we ate mofongo in the winter afternoon and we were home. Wepa.

We ate so much fish on that trip — fried snapper at the Ponce kiosks, grilled snapper on the beach at Boqueórón — and when we got home I did not want to let go of that feeling, the salt air and the brightness and the way fish tastes when you are somewhere you love. I made the mofongo on the island, in Marisol’s pilón, where everything cooperated. Back home, this mahi mahi with chimichurri is how I hold onto it: the fresh herbs in the chimichurri are green the way the island is green, and the fish is light and bright the way that week was light and bright, and when I cook it I can still hear Eduardo saying, Carmen, this is what I remember.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 mahi mahi fillets (6 oz each), patted dry
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 teaspoon kosher salt, divided
1/2 teaspoon black pepper, divided
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 pound broccolini, trimmed
2 garlic cloves, minced (for broccolini)
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
For the chimichurri:
1 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, packed
1/4 cup fresh cilantro, packed
3 garlic cloves
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil

Instructions

Make the chimichurri. Combine parsley, cilantro, garlic, red wine vinegar, oregano, red pepper flakes, and salt in a food processor. Pulse until finely chopped. With the motor running, drizzle in the olive oil until just combined — you want the sauce slightly chunky, not smooth. Taste and adjust seasoning. Set aside to let the flavors develop while you cook the fish and broccolini.
Blanch the broccolini. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add broccolini and cook for 2 minutes until bright green and just tender. Drain and transfer immediately to a bowl of ice water to stop cooking. Drain again and pat dry.
Season the fish. Brush mahi mahi fillets with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil. Season both sides with 3/4 teaspoon of the salt, 1/4 teaspoon of the black pepper, and the smoked paprika.
Sear the mahi mahi. Heat a large cast-iron or stainless skillet over medium-high heat until very hot. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil. Place fillets in the pan and cook undisturbed for 4 to 5 minutes until golden brown on the bottom. Flip carefully and cook another 3 to 4 minutes until the fish is opaque and flakes easily with a fork. Remove from heat and rest for 2 minutes.
Finish the broccolini. In the same pan (or a separate skillet), heat a drizzle of olive oil over medium heat. Add minced garlic and red pepper flakes and cook 30 seconds until fragrant. Add the blanched broccolini, remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon black pepper, and toss to coat. Cook 2 to 3 minutes until heated through and lightly charred at the edges.
Serve. Divide broccolini among four plates. Place a mahi mahi fillet alongside. Spoon chimichurri generously over the fish and let a little run onto the greens. Serve remaining chimichurri on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Mahi Mahi with Chimichurri Sauce & Broccolini — The Island Came Home With Us