May 2020. I am 61 years old, retired from the Postal Service, my days now belong to me and the smoker and Rosetta and the slow unfolding of a life without a mailbag. The week arrived the way weeks arrive in Orange Mound — carried by the rhythm of morning coffee and evening porch-sitting and the steady, patient work of being present in a life that doesn\'t require grand gestures to feel meaningful. Earl starts bbq classes at orange mound community center.
Rosetta beside me through all of it, as she has been for 36 years — steady, opinionated, correct about things I haven't admitted she's correct about yet. She is the constant. She is the foundation. She is the woman I married in a parking lot and have been trying to deserve every day since.
I smoked a pork shoulder this week — the classic, the king, fourteen hours over hickory, mopped with the vinegar sauce, pulled by hand when the meat surrenders to the touch. The bark was dark and crackled, the smoke ring a quarter-inch deep, and the meat came apart in my fingers with the familiar, miraculous tenderness of something that has been loved patiently for sixteen hours. Served on white bread with coleslaw and the sauce, because the serving is as traditional as the smoking, and tradition doesn't innovate — it deepens.
Rosetta came to the porch as the light faded and said, "Good week, Earl." I said, "Good week." And it was — not remarkable, not historic, just good, the way most weeks are good when you have a smoker that works and a wife who loves you and a family that shows up and a God who watches. Good is enough. Good is everything. Good is what you\'re left with when you strip away the noise and the ambition and the worry, and what remains is a man on a porch in Memphis, sixty-something years old, watching the dark come, full of food and gratitude and the quiet knowledge that he did his best today, and tomorrow he\'ll do it again.
The pork shoulder is my signature — sixteen hours, no shortcuts, no apologies — but when I walked into that community center kitchen for the first class and looked out at those faces, I knew I needed something that would teach without intimidating, something that carried the same soul in a fraction of the time. Fried catfish is Memphis to the bone, and this recipe has a secret that changes everything once you know it — the kind of thing you earn the right to pass along. That’s what I brought to the classroom, and that’s what I’m leaving here.
Secret Ingredient Fried Catfish
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 2 lbs catfish fillets, cut into serving pieces
- 1 cup buttermilk
- 2 tablespoons hot sauce (the secret ingredient —rsquo; don’t skip it)
- 1 cup yellow cornmeal
- 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
- 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
- 1 teaspoon black pepper
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
- Vegetable oil, for frying (about 2 inches deep in a cast-iron skillet)
- Lemon wedges and hot sauce, for serving
Instructions
- Soak the fish. Combine the buttermilk and hot sauce in a shallow dish. Add the catfish fillets, turn to coat, cover, and refrigerate for at least 15 minutes and up to 2 hours. The hot sauce tenderizes and seasons from the inside — that’s the secret.
- Make the dredge. In a wide, shallow bowl, whisk together the cornmeal, flour, salt, black pepper, garlic powder, smoked paprika, and cayenne until evenly combined.
- Heat the oil. Pour vegetable oil 2 inches deep into a large cast-iron skillet or heavy-bottomed pot. Heat over medium-high until the oil reaches 350°F. A pinch of dredge dropped in should sizzle immediately.
- Dredge the fillets. Remove each fillet from the buttermilk soak, letting the excess drip off. Press firmly into the cornmeal mixture on both sides, coating completely. Set on a wire rack while the oil finishes heating.
- Fry in batches. Working in batches of 2–3 pieces, carefully lower the fillets into the hot oil. Fry for 4–5 minutes per side, turning once, until deep golden brown and the fish flakes easily. Do not crowd the pan — that’s what ruins the crust.
- Drain and rest. Transfer finished fillets to a wire rack set over a baking sheet. Never drain on paper towels if you want to keep the crust crisp. Hold finished batches in a 200°F oven while you fry the rest.
- Serve. Plate with lemon wedges, extra hot sauce, and whatever sides your tradition calls for. In Memphis, that means white bread and slaw. Serve immediately.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 370 | Protein: 30g | Fat: 15g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 530mg