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Seafood Pizza — When the Salt Cod Brings You Back to Ponce on a Monday

Spring is arriving and the baby is coming and everything is growing — the forsythia, the daffodils, Jenny belly, my excitement. I have started a list of things the baby will need to eat. Not now — the baby is not born yet, the baby is still inside Jenny, growing on whatever Jenny is eating, which I hope includes the sofrito I have been cooking for her every Sunday. But when the baby is ready for food, real food, the first thing that baby will taste is my arroz con pollo. This is not negotiable. This has been decided by Carmen Delgado-Ortiz, grandmother-in-waiting, and the decision is final.

Mami has settled into her Hartford routine. Novelas in the morning. Nap in the green recliner at noon. Walk to my house at 5:30. Dinner. Criticism. Cafe. Walk home at 8. Repeat. This is the rhythm of Luz Maria life in Hartford, and the rhythm is good, and the rhythm includes my cooking every night, which is what I was put on earth to do — feed my mother, feed my family, feed anyone who walks through my door.

But the memory thing is starting. Small things. She called me Marisol on Tuesday. Not a mistake — she looked at me and she saw her daughter Marisol, my sister, who lives in Bayamon. She called me Marisol and then she corrected herself and said, Carmen, I mean Carmen. But the correction came a beat late, the way corrections come when the fog is settling, and I smiled and I said, Yes, Mami, Carmen, and I made her cafe and I did not mention it again because mentioning it would make it real and I am not ready for real. I am ready for close. I am ready for almost. I am not ready for real.

At the hospital, spring menu is rolling out. Lighter soups, more salads, citrus chicken. The cafeteria feels brighter when the menu changes, the way a room feels brighter when you open the curtains. Food sets the mood. Food tells the body what season it is. Food says: the cold is ending, the green is coming, the world is waking up. Trust the food, mi amor. The food knows.

Made a light ensalada de bacalao tonight — salt cod salad with olive oil and onions and avocado and tomato. Cold, bright, spring on a plate. Eduardo ate it and said, This tastes like Saturday in Ponce. That is the highest compliment Eduardo gives food — comparing it to his hometown on his favorite day of the week. Saturday in Ponce. Twenty years ago we went to Ponce and ate this exact salad at his mother table and the taste traveled through time and landed on a Monday in Hartford and that is the magic, mi amor. That is always the magic.

Eduardo said the ensalada de bacalao tasted like Saturday in Ponce, and that compliment stayed with me all night—the way good food always does, sitting in my chest like a small warm light. I wanted to keep that feeling going, to stretch the coast a little further into the week, so the next evening I made this seafood pizza: the brine of the sea, the brightness of good olive oil, something that says the water is not so far away, mi amor. With Mami’s fog settling at the edges and Jenny’s belly growing rounder and spring pushing through the Hartford sidewalks, I needed a dish that tasted like possibility—and this one always does.

Seafood Pizza

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 lb prepared pizza dough, room temperature
  • 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
  • 4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
  • 1/2 cup crushed San Marzano tomatoes
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
  • 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
  • Salt and black pepper to taste
  • 6 oz medium shrimp, peeled, deveined, and patted dry
  • 4 oz bay scallops, patted dry
  • 4 oz calamari rings
  • 1 cup shredded low-moisture mozzarella
  • 1/4 cup thinly sliced red onion
  • 2 tablespoons capers, drained
  • 1/4 cup pitted kalamata olives, halved
  • 1/4 cup roasted red pepper strips
  • Fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped, for finishing
  • 1 lemon, cut into wedges, for serving

Instructions

  1. Preheat the oven. Place a pizza stone or heavy baking sheet on the center rack and preheat oven to 475°F. Let the stone heat for at least 30 minutes while you prepare the toppings.
  2. Bloom the garlic. In a small saucepan over medium-low heat, warm 2 tablespoons of the olive oil with the sliced garlic. Cook gently, stirring, for 3–4 minutes until the garlic is fragrant and just barely golden. Remove from heat.
  3. Make the sauce. Stir the crushed tomatoes, oregano, and red pepper flakes into the garlic oil. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Set aside.
  4. Prep the seafood. Toss the shrimp, scallops, and calamari rings with the remaining tablespoon of olive oil and a pinch of salt and pepper. Because the seafood finishes cooking on the pizza, keep pieces small and uniform so they cook through in the oven’s heat.
  5. Shape the dough. On a lightly floured surface, stretch or roll the dough into a 12-inch round or rustic oval. Transfer to a piece of parchment paper.
  6. Build the pizza. Spread the tomato-garlic sauce evenly over the dough, leaving a 3/4-inch border. Scatter the mozzarella over the sauce. Arrange the seasoned seafood, red onion, capers, olives, and roasted red peppers evenly over the cheese.
  7. Bake. Slide the parchment with the pizza onto the hot stone or baking sheet. Bake for 12–15 minutes, until the crust is deep golden, the cheese is bubbling, and the shrimp are pink and opaque. Watch the calamari—it should be just tender, not rubbery.
  8. Finish and serve. Remove from oven and let rest for 2 minutes. Scatter fresh parsley over the top and cut into slices. Serve immediately with lemon wedges on the side for squeezing—the lemon is not optional. The lemon is everything.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 480 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 44g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 890mg

Carmen Delgado-Ortiz
About the cook who shared this
Carmen Delgado-Ortiz
Week 105 of Carmen’s 30-year story · Hartford, Connecticut
Carmen is a sixty-year-old retired hospital cafeteria manager, a grandmother of eight, and a Puerto Rican woman who survived Hurricane María in 2017 and rebuilt her life in Hartford, Connecticut, with nothing but her mother's sofrito recipe and the kind of determination that only comes from watching everything you own get washed away. She cooks arroz con pollo, pernil, and pasteles for every holiday, and her kitchen is always open because in Carmen's world, nobody eats alone.

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