Recipe of the Week; BAKED TILAPIA

I'll cut right to the chase. I adore Leah Chase. Truly one of America's culinary heroes. An inspiration for many a Creole dinner in my house.

Years ago, I came across a recipe of hers for baked fish. It was actually trout, I believe. Through the many moves and sorting out of old cookbooks and recipe snippets, the recipe has gotten lost. I've searched for it online, and still it eludes my finding. One of these days I'll have to break down and buy her cookbook to reclaim this delicious recipe.

In the meantime, I've somewhat invented my own version, except I use tilapia. I always seem to have it on hand, and it works out OK. It's not nearly as rich and grand as Leah's, but cutting back on the mayonnaise (yes this fish is coated with Mayo!) is necessary for me, primarily because my husband is not so much of a fan of it. I could eat it with a spoon (and do upon occasion). Her recipe also included fresh artichokes. Personally, I think they're a lot of work with little reward, so I just pick up a jar of marinated ones. The marinade adds an extra level of twang as well.

INGREDIENTS

approximately 2 lbs. tilapia fillets, or trout (skin on, if possible)

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese
4 tablespoons softened butter
4 tablespoons mayonnaise
3 tablespoons chopped scallions
1/2 teaspoon Old Bay seasoning (I do NOT encourage substitutes here)
fresh ground black pepper, to taste
dash or so of hot sauce, recommend Louisiana Hot Sauce
1 jar marinated artichokes, drained

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a buttered glass baking dish, lay fish in a single layer. Brush with lemon juice.

In a bowl, combine cheese, butter mayonnaise, onion, and seasonings. Mix well with a fork.

Bake the fish 10 to 20 minutes, or until the fish starts to flake. Remove from oven, spread with cheese mixture. Spread artichokes around the fish. Bake another 5 to 10 minutes or until golden brown.

Delicious when served with dirty rice and fried okra.

Summer Reflections

It's what? July 26th? REALLY? {Insert dramatic wide eyes here}

Yes, it is. More than halfway through the summer, and what have I done so far? A lil' bit of everything I suppose. Sweat, swim, stay up really late a few weekends, and indulge in a little libation here and there. And of course enjoy my Pirate games.

I like to reminisce of leisurely summer days of old, when the tips of my toes would find themselves dangling off the pool deck into the cool water. Or when I'd be munching on tea berries, lounging in my favorite patch of moss and staring blankly at the puffy white clouds in the sky. Or a lazy afternoon swinging on the porch swing. My Dad had ours hung under a massive grape vine arbor.

Summers as a child were particularly special when I was growing up. My Mom stayed home with us, and from the moment the sun was up we were out- riding our bikes, picking berries off in the woods somewhere, or out in the sand, playing with our Dukes of Hazzard cars. (I had Daisy's little white jeep.) I remember the sun, especially. It never seemed unbearably hot. It just felt so warm on my skin. I loved watching it set, it was a bright orange ball descending behind the lush green hills in the Pennsylvania country side.


We practically lived outside, even at night. We had a tent we pitched right in our back yard. We'd light a campfire, and it seemed we had hot dogs and mountain pies for dinner just about every night. We'd catch fire flies.

That's what summer was to me. Now, well... it's different. I go to work. I try to pack as much fun as I can into the weekends. I forgo housework. It's not quite the same, but I'm not complaining. It's just a fact of life, I suppose.

I pass a billboard on my way into the office every morning that reads "Expect everything out of life". I think it's for life-insurance. I guess I do expect everything, and occasionally that leads to dissatisfaction or frustration. When your and adult, your problems become more than worrying about running out of fudgesicles or having a flat tire on your bike.

So, especially during the summer, when the monotony of every day or the aggravations of life try to take over, I'll sit back. I'll close my eyes, envision that bright-orange sunset and smell the freshly cut summer grass. I know I can't physically relive those days. But I can always go back there, forever thankful that I have the memories.