Seared Scallops with Citrus Herb Sauce

Daffodils in the front yard. The shiso starts pushing up. Amazon this week. Sprint planning Tuesday. Two hours of meetings I could have been a Slack message.

Hana, 1, a small loud animal. She mostly eats rice and bananas. Jisoo FaceTimed Tuesday. We made doenjang jjigae together — me in Wallingford, her in Haeundae. Eleven thousand miles. The same soup.

Noodle bowls all week. The simple weeknight meal.

Drove to Bellevue Saturday. Karen was tired. I brought soft food. She ate.

James fell asleep on the couch with the kids climbing on him. The household was the household.

Sunday farmers market on Wallingford Avenue. The kabocha at the Asian vendor's stall. The shishito peppers. The brokered conversation. We bought too much. We always do.

A blog reader wrote about her own adoptee experience. We exchanged three emails this week.

I texted Jisoo a photo of the kimchi in the new onggi pot. She replied with the thumb-up emoji and a Korean-language critique. The duality is the gift.

Yoga Tuesday morning at the studio. The forward fold released something I had been carrying in the shoulder. The mat is the mat.

David came over for Sunday dinner. He brought some tomatoes from the Bellevue garden.

Rain on the porch all afternoon Saturday. The Wallingford rain is its own weather. I sat with a book and a tea and did not move for two hours.

The newsletter went out Sunday morning. The opening sentence took an hour. The piece took five. The piece was what it needed to be.

Therapy Tuesday with Dr. Kim. We talked about the parents — the two sets, the one living, the one gone, the one who became real after thirty years and the one who was real my whole life and is now gone. The work is the layered work.

Sprint review at Amazon Friday. Two hours. I could have been on a podcast.

The Capitol Hill apartment kitchen is small. We make it work.

The kimchi crock was bubbling Saturday morning when I checked. The bubbling is the right bubbling. The fermentation knew what it was doing.

I sat at the kitchen counter at six AM with a notebook and a cup of green tea. Writing time before the house wakes. The pre-light hour is the only writing hour I trust.

The shiso on the south fence is fragrant and unruly. I brushed past it taking the compost out and the smell stopped me. The smell is the country. The smell is Jisoo's apartment.

Hana left a Lego on the kitchen floor. I stepped on it at two AM. Standard.

Jisoo sent a photo of the dol the kids did for our visit last summer. The photo went on the fridge.

Reading at night. A novel by a Korean-American writer about a family in 1990s LA. I underlined four sentences. The underlining is the marking-of-the-territory of the soul.

I read a thread on the Korean Adoptee subreddit Saturday. Some posts brought up old anger. Most are people figuring it out in real time. We are not unique. We are a community.

James and I had date night Friday. Indian restaurant on 45th. We ate too much. We sat in the car after talking about nothing for an hour. The marriage is the marriage.

My Korean is improving. Slowly. Painfully. Conversationally adequate now. I can argue about kimchi proportions in two languages, which is a milestone in any marriage between mother and daughter.

I made coffee at seven. Hana ate cereal at seven-fifteen. Min wandered down at seven-twenty-five. James left for work at eight. The morning was the morning. The standard.

We ate noodle bowls most of the week — easy, reliable, the kind of food that holds a busy household together — but by Sunday I wanted something that asked a little more of me. Not complicated. Just careful. The farmers market had put me in a particular mood: the slow conversation at the kabocha stall, the rain on the porch, the hour I spent not moving with a book. Seared scallops felt right for that energy — a meal that rewards attention and patience, that goes golden and still in the pan if you let it, and asks you, briefly, to be present.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 12 minutes | Total Time: 22 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs large sea scallops (about 16–20), side muscle removed, patted very dry
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons neutral oil (such as avocado or grapeseed)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/3 cup fresh orange juice (from about 1 large orange)
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 tablespoon fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
1 tablespoon fresh chives, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
Flaky sea salt, for finishing

Instructions

Dry the scallops thoroughly. Pat scallops completely dry on both sides with paper towels — this is the most important step for a proper sear. Season evenly with kosher salt and black pepper.
Heat the pan. Place a heavy stainless steel or cast-iron skillet over high heat for 2 minutes until very hot. Add the oil and swirl to coat. The oil should shimmer immediately.
Sear without moving. Add scallops to the pan in a single layer, leaving space between each one. Do not touch them for 2 to 2 1/2 minutes, until a deep golden crust forms on the bottom. Flip once and cook 1 1/2 to 2 minutes more. The center should be just barely opaque. Transfer to a plate and tent loosely with foil.
Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium. Add 1 tablespoon butter to the same pan. When melted, add the garlic and cook 30 seconds, stirring, until fragrant but not browned. Pour in the orange juice and lemon juice, scraping up any browned bits. Simmer 2 minutes until slightly reduced.
Finish and brighten. Remove pan from heat. Swirl in the remaining 1 tablespoon butter until glossy. Stir in lemon zest, parsley, chives, and thyme. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Plate and serve. Spoon the citrus herb sauce onto warmed plates. Nestle scallops on top, seared side up. Finish with a pinch of flaky sea salt and serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Seared Scallops with Citrus Herb Sauce — When the Week Asks for Something Careful and Beautiful