Pepper and Salsa Cod

Jasmine and David are expecting their second child. Earl Jr.'s daughter. The baby is due in October — another fall baby, another Henderson arriving in harvest season, which seems to be our season. We harvest in the fall. We produce in the fall. We add to the table in the fall the way the garden adds to the pantry: generously, abundantly, with no regard for whether there's room.

Earl Jr. called with the news. He was quiet about it — the Earl Henderson quiet, the quiet that contains multitudes but releases them slowly, like a pot that simmers instead of boils. "Mama," he said. "Jasmine's pregnant again." I said, "Boy or girl?" He said, "Don't know yet." I said, "When?" He said, "October." I said, "That's harvest season." He said, "Mama, everything with you is food." He's right. Everything with me is food. Food is the language. Food is the metaphor. Food is the way I understand the world: in seasons and harvests and the things that grow.

David Jr. — Jasmine's first, my third great-grandchild, now five years old — is apparently "excited to be a big brother," which is what all parents say about their firstborn when a second child is announced and which may or may not be true depending on the child's actual understanding of what "a new baby" means. At five, David Jr. probably thinks "a new baby" means "a new toy that cries." He will learn. They all learn.

The great-grandchild count will hit eleven when this baby arrives. Eleven. I am seventy-one years old with eleven great-grandchildren and the number is still climbing and the stove is still hot and the freezer is still full of meals waiting to be sent to wherever the next baby arrives. Atlanta. Jacksonville. Orlando. Savannah. The Henderson distribution network covers the eastern seaboard. I am not a grandmother. I am a logistics operation. Andre would understand.

Made chicken and rice tonight. The simple one-pot. The pot that stretches. The meal that says "we're growing and the food grows with us." One pot. One family. One line that doesn't end.

Now go on and feed somebody.

I reached for the cod instead of the chicken this time — same spirit, different pot. When the news is good and the family is growing and you just need something warm and ready without a lot of fuss, a skillet full of peppers and salsa does the same work: it stretches, it nourishes, and it asks nothing of you but a little time on the stove. Eleven great-grandchildren and counting calls for a recipe that can keep up.

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

Ingredients

4 cod fillets (about 6 oz each)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 red bell pepper, sliced thin
1 yellow bell pepper, sliced thin
1 green bell pepper, sliced thin
1 small yellow onion, sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 cups chunky salsa (store-bought or homemade)
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
Salt and black pepper to taste
Fresh cilantro or parsley, for garnish
Lime wedges, for serving

Instructions

Season the fish. Pat cod fillets dry with paper towels. Season both sides generously with salt, black pepper, cumin, and chili powder. Set aside.
Soften the peppers. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the sliced bell peppers and onion. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and beginning to color at the edges, about 6–8 minutes.
Add garlic and salsa. Stir in the minced garlic and cook for 30 seconds until fragrant. Pour the salsa over the pepper mixture and stir to combine. Let it come to a gentle simmer.
Nestle the cod. Lay the seasoned cod fillets directly on top of the pepper and salsa mixture. Reduce heat to medium, cover the skillet, and cook until the fish is opaque and flakes easily with a fork, about 10–12 minutes depending on thickness.
Finish and serve. Taste the sauce and adjust salt and pepper as needed. Scatter fresh cilantro or parsley over the top. Serve straight from the skillet with lime wedges and warm rice or crusty bread to catch every bit of that sauce.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pepper and Salsa Cod — The Pot That Stretches