By Joseph came to Anchorage this week. He doesn't come often — Kodiak is a plane ride away, and commercial fishing doesn't respect family visit schedules — but he had a few days between trips and he showed up at Lourdes's door with a cooler full of halibut and a sunburn that made Lourdes gasp and immediately apply aloe vera to his face as if he were five instead of nineteen. That's Lourdes with Joseph. He could be forty and she'd still check behind his ears.
Joseph is different from the rest of us. Mark is structured, military, calls on schedule. Angela is warm and practical, the family anchor. I'm the ate — the eldest, the one who holds everything. Joseph is none of these things. Joseph is quiet, physical, happiest on the water with salt in his hair and the particular calm of a person who has found the thing they're supposed to do and is doing it. He talks about fishing the way some people talk about religion — with reverence, with gratitude, with the occasional terror of something larger than yourself.
He doesn't know about the breakdown. None of my siblings do, except Angela. Lourdes knows — you can't hide a breakdown from a Filipino mother; they have radar — but Joseph and Mark don't. I stood in Lourdes's kitchen next to my baby brother, who towers over me now, and we cooked his halibut together and I thought about telling him and didn't. Not because I'm ashamed. Because Joseph worries about the ocean and the weather and the catch, and he doesn't need to worry about his ate too. Letting people not worry is its own form of care.
We made the halibut Filipino-style — pan-fried in garlic and butter with a squeeze of calamansi, simple and clean, the fish so fresh it tasted like the ocean was still in it. Joseph caught this fish yesterday. Yesterday it was alive in the Gulf of Alaska and today it's on Lourdes's table and we're eating it with rice and sinigang and the particular noise that a Filipino family makes when the food is good, which is a noise somewhere between a sigh and a prayer.
After dinner, Joseph and I sat on Lourdes's porch in the ten PM light and he told me about a storm last month that scared him — genuinely scared him, waves higher than the wheelhouse. I listened. I didn't say, "I sat on a kitchen floor for three hours." I said, "I'm glad you're safe." He said, "I'm always safe, Ate." He isn't. Neither am I. We're Santos kids. We survive. That's not the same as safe, but it's close enough for porch conversations.
The halibut Joseph brought was so fresh it almost felt wrong to do too much to it — and we didn’t. But if you’re making this at home without a brother who fishes the Gulf of Alaska, this lemon-glazed preparation is exactly the spirit of what we made that night: bright, clean, a little garlic, a little butter, fish that tastes like itself over a bowl of rice. It’s the kind of recipe that doesn’t ask much of you, which is exactly what you need when the evening is already full of something bigger.
Lemon-Glazed Swordfish Skewers Over Rice
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 lbs swordfish (or firm white fish such as halibut), cut into 1 1/2-inch cubes
- 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (about 2 lemons)
- 1 teaspoon lemon zest
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 1 teaspoon honey
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped
- 2 cups long-grain white rice, cooked, for serving
- Lemon wedges, for serving
Instructions
- Prepare the fish. Pat the fish cubes dry with paper towels. Season evenly with salt, pepper, and smoked paprika. If using skewers, thread the fish onto metal or pre-soaked wooden skewers, leaving a little space between each piece.
- Make the lemon glaze. In a small saucepan over medium-low heat, melt the butter with the olive oil. Add the minced garlic and cook for 1 minute until fragrant but not browned. Stir in the lemon juice, lemon zest, and honey. Simmer for 2–3 minutes until slightly thickened. Set aside, reserving half for serving.
- Cook the fish. Heat a large skillet or grill pan over medium-high heat and lightly oil the surface. Add the skewers and cook for 3–4 minutes per side, brushing generously with the lemon glaze as you go, until the fish is opaque through the center and caramelized on the outside. Do not overcook — the fish should just flake when pressed.
- Rest and finish. Remove the skewers from heat and brush once more with the remaining glaze. Let rest for 2 minutes. Sprinkle with fresh parsley.
- Serve. Arrange the skewers over bowls of warm white rice. Spoon any pan juices over the top. Serve with lemon wedges on the side.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 420 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 38g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 390mg