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Pistachio Crusted Fish Fillets -- When the Salmon Arrives from Kodiak

June. The sun barely sets. The midnight sun season, when Alaska compensates for all that winter darkness by refusing to let the light go, the sky pale at midnight, the birds singing at 2 AM, the world refusing to sleep. The light is almost violent in its generosity — too much, too bright, the curtains useless, the sleep disrupted by the insistence of a sun that will not quit.

I'm finding a rhythm in the pandemic. Not a good rhythm — a functional one, the difference being that a good rhythm implies joy and a functional rhythm implies survival, and survival is what this is. Three shifts a week. Batch cooking on Mondays. Lourdes drop-offs on Thursdays and Saturdays. Blog posts on Tuesdays. Therapy on Wednesdays (telehealth, Dr. Reeves's face on my screen, the therapy that is not as good as in-person but is better than nothing, and better-than-nothing is the pandemic standard). The rhythm holds. The rhythm is the scaffolding. The building inside the scaffolding is me.

Joseph called from Kodiak. He's fine — fishing has continued through the pandemic because fish don't get COVID and the boats are essentially floating bubbles anyway, the crew isolated on the water, which is the safest place to be during a plague and the most dangerous place to be at all other times. Joseph is twenty-three and in love — he mentioned a woman named Suki, casually, the way Joseph mentions everything, as if love were weather, something that happens to you, not something you pursue. I filed this information for future Santos-sister analysis. Angela will want to know. Lourdes will want to know immediately. I will tell Angela first and let the auntie network do its work.

I made grilled salmon — not sinigang, not a Filipino preparation, just salmon rubbed with salt and garlic and lemon and grilled on the apartment's tiny balcony grill, the simplest preparation for the best fish, the Alaskan imperative to let the salmon be salmon. The salmon was Joseph's — caught by his crew, sent to me, arriving in a cooler that smelled like the ocean and brotherly love. I ate it on the balcony at 10 PM in the sunlight, because 10 PM sunlight is Alaska's summer gift, and gifts should be used, especially now, especially when the world is rationing everything else.

Joseph’s salmon deserved more than just salt and a grill, at least some nights — and when the second cooler arrived that summer, I wanted to do something that felt like a celebration, something with a little texture and intention to match the extraordinary ordinariness of a brother sending fish across the state because that’s just what Santos family love looks like. This pistachio crusted preparation was exactly right: it honored the fish without overcomplicating it, added a golden crunch that felt festive even eaten alone on a sunlit balcony at 10 PM, and came together fast enough that it fit the functional rhythm I was holding onto for dear life.

Pistachio Crusted Fish Fillets

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

Ingredients

  • 4 fish fillets (salmon, cod, or halibut), about 6 oz each
  • 3/4 cup shelled pistachios, finely chopped
  • 1/4 cup panko breadcrumbs
  • 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped
  • 1 teaspoon lemon zest
  • 2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • Lemon wedges, for serving

Instructions

  1. Preheat oven. Heat oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or lightly grease with cooking spray.
  2. Make the crust. In a shallow bowl, combine the chopped pistachios, panko breadcrumbs, parsley, lemon zest, garlic powder, salt, and pepper. Drizzle in the olive oil and stir until the mixture resembles coarse, slightly damp crumbs.
  3. Coat the fillets. Pat fish fillets dry with paper towels. Brush the top of each fillet with a thin, even layer of Dijon mustard — this acts as the binder for the crust.
  4. Press on the crust. Press the pistachio mixture firmly onto the mustard-coated side of each fillet, forming an even layer about 1/4 inch thick.
  5. Bake. Place fillets crust-side up on the prepared baking sheet. Bake for 12–15 minutes, until the crust is golden and the fish flakes easily with a fork. Thicker fillets may need the full 15 minutes.
  6. Rest and serve. Let fillets rest for 2 minutes before plating. Serve with lemon wedges and any simple green vegetable alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 340 | Protein: 36g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 8g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 390mg

Grace Santos
About the cook who shared this
Grace Santos
Week 215 of Grace’s 30-year story · Anchorage, Alaska
Grace is a thirty-seven-year-old ER nurse in Anchorage, Alaska — Filipino-American, single, and the person her entire community calls when they need a hundred lumpia for a party or a shoulder to cry on after a hard shift. She cooks to cope with the things she sees in the emergency room, feeding her neighbors and her church and anyone who looks like they need a plate. Her adobo could bring peace to a warring nation. Her schedule could kill a lesser person.

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