Parmesan Baked Cod — When the Lake Provides, You Cook Simply

The kitchen is the room I live in. The other rooms are storage for memories — the dining room with its china cabinet, the living room with Paul's shipwreck books, the upstairs bedrooms where the kids grew up and which I have not entered (except to dust) in years. The kitchen is where the present happens. The kitchen is where the food is made and the dog is fed and the morning begins and the evening ends. The kitchen is the entire territory of my daily life now, and I find that this is enough. Karin and I talked Sunday. Stockholm in winter is dark. Duluth in winter is dark. We compared darknesses. We laughed. Karin said: "Linda, do you remember the time Pappa drove us to Two Harbors in a blizzard because Mamma wanted lutefisk?" I said yes. The story unspooled across the phone for twenty minutes. I had forgotten half of it. Karin remembered all of it. The memory was, briefly, complete between us. Mamma's hands shake more than they did last month. I do not point it out. I notice. I notice everything. The shake is small — barely visible when she is at rest, more visible when she lifts her coffee cup, most visible when she is trying to thread a needle. She still threads needles. She still bakes. She still calls me on Tuesdays at 10. The hands shake. The shaking does not stop the doing. The doing is what Mamma is. I cooked Beef bourguignon (Paul's favorite) this week. The French stew Paul learned to love when we honeymooned at the cabin and I bought a Julia Child book at a roadside stand. Beef chuck, bacon, mushrooms, pearl onions, red wine, beef stock, a bouquet garni of thyme and bay and parsley stems, three hours of low oven. Served over buttered noodles. Paul ate three plates the first time I made it. He proposed marriage retroactively. Thursday at the Damiano Center: I made an extra pot of pea soup, the way Mamma taught me — yellow split peas, ham hock, onion, the whole of Sunday afternoon dedicated to its slow simmer. Gerald said, "Variety. We approve." The regulars approved too. One older woman ate three bowls and asked if she could take some home. I sent her home with a quart in a glass jar. She is bringing the jar back next Thursday. We have an arrangement. I walked to the lake on Saturday. I stood at the spot where Paul and I used to walk — the bench at the end of the lakefront trail, the one with the brass plaque about a different Paul who died in 1972. I told my Paul about the week. About the kids. About the dog. About the soup. I do not feel foolish doing this. The lake is patient. The lake has, in some real sense, become my husband by proxy. I would not have predicted this in 1988. It has turned out to be true anyway. It is enough. It has to be. And on a morning like this, with the lake doing what the lake does and the dog at my feet and the bread on the counter and the kitchen warm enough to live in, it is. It is enough.

The week had its long simmers — the bourguignon in the oven for three hours, the pea soup stretching across a Sunday afternoon — but not every evening calls for that kind of patience, and the night after I walked to the lake I wanted something gentler. This Parmesan Baked Cod is what I made: flaky white fish, a simple golden crust, dinner ready before the dog had finished his supper. Paul loved his bourguignon above all things, but he also believed a good piece of cod done plainly was its own kind of gift, and living this close to the water, I have come to agree with him. Some nights the kitchen just needs to be warm and the food just needs to be honest.

Parmesan Baked Cod

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 4 cod fillets (about 6 oz each), patted dry
• 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
• 2 tablespoons mayonnaise
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped, for garnish
• Lemon wedges, for serving

Instructions

1. Preheat. Heat your oven to 400°F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with aluminum foil and give it a light coat of cooking spray or a thin smear of butter.
2. Season the fish. Lay the cod fillets on the prepared baking sheet. Season the tops lightly with salt and pepper.
3. Make the Parmesan topping. In a small bowl, stir together the Parmesan, melted butter, mayonnaise, lemon juice, garlic powder, paprika, salt, and pepper until it forms a thick, spreadable paste.
4. Top the fillets. Divide the Parmesan mixture evenly among the four fillets and spread it in an even layer across the top of each one, going all the way to the edges.
5. Bake. Transfer to the oven and bake for 12–15 minutes, until the fish flakes easily when pressed with a fork and the Parmesan crust is set and lightly golden. If you’d like more color, run the pan under the broiler for 1–2 minutes at the end, watching carefully.
6. Rest and serve. Let the fillets rest on the pan for 2 minutes. Scatter chopped parsley over the top and serve immediately with lemon wedges alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 285 | Protein: 35g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 2g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 430mg