Lemon-Parsley Tilapia

Valentine's Day. Eduardo and I do not do Valentine's Day, mi amor, and we have not done Valentine's Day since 1992. Let me explain the history, because everyone asks.

1992. I was pregnant with Rosa. Miguel Jr. was two. Eduardo brought home a dozen roses and a box of chocolates and I was so tired and so nauseated that I looked at the flowers and burst into tears and said, "What do I need roses for, Eduardo, I need you to take Miguelito for an hour so I can take a bath." Eduardo, who is a quick learner, handed me the roses, took Miguelito, gave me ninety minutes in the tub, and never bought Valentine's roses again.

From then on, February 14 in our house is a day when Eduardo does a household task that has been waiting and I make us a dinner that is specifically his favorite and nobody buys anything and there are no cards. Monday he regrouted the bathroom tile — a task that had been on the list for six months — and I made bacalaítos.

Bacalaítos. Salted cod fritters. Thin, crispy, fried in hot oil until they puff at the edges, served hot with a little squeeze of lime, eaten standing over the kitchen counter because they are not a sit-down food. They are a Friday-night-at-the-beach-kiosk food, a food I ate as a teenager in Bayamón wrapped in wax paper, hot enough to burn your fingers, and they are a food Eduardo fell in love with on our first date in San Juan in 1985 at a beach shack in Isla Verde, which is also where he fell in love with me. One leads to the other. I do not separate the bacalaítos from the romance.

Tuesday was calmer. Mami came over and she was having a good day — lucid, present, telling me stories. She asked about Héctor. I said, "Mami, Héctor died in 2003." She said, "I know. I was asking if you remembered what he liked to eat." And I said, "Arroz con pollo, the way you made it on Saturdays." And she said, "Yes. I made it yesterday for him." And I did not correct her. She had made it in her mind. That was enough.

Wednesday I started packing for Puerto Rico. My annual February trip. Marisol is expecting me the 21st. I pack light — a carry-on, nothing more, because I fly in with nothing and fly out with sofrito ingredients, coffee from Yaucono, sazón packets in the particular color Goya sells only on the island, three bottles of Bayamón vanilla for the flan, and culantro seeds Marisol's neighbor saves for me from her garden. My suitcase on the way down is half full. On the way back it weighs fifty pounds and every pound is evidence.

Eduardo sees the empty suitcase and knows. "Bring me sazón," he says. "I always bring you sazón," I say. "I know," he says. Marriage. Wepa.

I know bacalaítos are not tilapia, and I know tilapia is not salted cod — but when the mood in the kitchen is the same, when you want something fast and bright and finished with citrus, a good piece of fish cooked simply is not so far from where you started. If you don’t have salt cod soaking and the oil heating, this lemon-parsley tilapia is the weeknight version of that same love: a little acid, a little herb, heat from the pan, and someone in the next room who already knows you’re making it for him.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 20 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 tilapia fillets (about 6 oz each)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (about 1 large lemon)
1 teaspoon lemon zest
3 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
Lemon wedges, for serving

Instructions

Season the fish. Pat tilapia fillets dry with paper towels. Season both sides evenly with salt, pepper, and garlic powder.
Heat the pan. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, warm the olive oil and 1 tablespoon of butter until the butter is melted and the pan is hot but not smoking.
Sear the fillets. Add the tilapia in a single layer. Cook without moving for 3–4 minutes until the edges are opaque and the bottom is golden. Flip carefully and cook another 2–3 minutes until cooked through. Transfer to a plate and tent loosely with foil.
Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter to the same pan. Once melted, add the minced garlic and cook for 30 seconds, stirring, until fragrant. Pour in the lemon juice and zest, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan.
Finish with parsley. Stir the fresh parsley into the sauce and cook for 30 seconds more. Taste and adjust salt if needed.
Serve. Spoon the lemon-parsley butter sauce over the fillets. Serve immediately with lemon wedges alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Lemon-Parsley Tilapia — The Fish That Tastes Like February in Our Kitchen