Grouper with chives

The more complicated life gets, the simpler I want my cooking. Today is a day for simple meals.

My dog is lying on the floor pulling in one raspy breath after another. The air gurgles in his throat as his chest rocks up and down. There are three kids and a tangle of schedules and soccer games to consider. There are phone calls to the vet and conversations about who is going to dig the hole in the clearing on my in-law’s farm. There is a plane ticket waiting with a big question mark on it.

I am trying to plan, to make the phone calls that need to be made. But when I hear the voices on the other end of the line, I cannot speak. The silence hangs with my heavy breath like I am some kind of creepy prank caller.

Hello, I hear the voices ask. I try to answer, but I can’t make the sounds come out. I need to make plans. I need to figure things out. But I cannot will my words to steady.

Maybe I should make lunch. So I float upstairs and discover that I bought one piece of grouper at the fish market this morning. I cook for five, so this is a little weird, but there we go. Grouper it is.

Spring is the best time of year for simple cooking. My garden is yielding its first bounty, and after five months of scrounging around in the bottom of my vegetable drawer for some mostly tasteless greens, I can once again wander out to the yard and pick lunch. And yet, there are not a lot of choices. This time of year, you can have whatever you want as long as it's chives.

The Cousins Fish Market has wonderful grouper, and the only trick to cooking fish this good is to not screw it up. (A risk when you cook as I do with fistfuls of flair and little restraint.) I glance at the flour, the corn meal, the bread crumbs, the wine, the capers, the cumin and the tomatoes. My empty rattle of a brain is overwhelmed even looking at my pantry. Go to the garden. Chives. Yes, chives seem like the thing.

Simple. Olive oil, salt, pepper, chives. Keep it simple.

My mother shows up to say good-bye to my dog and give me a hug. I push half my fish onto her plate. I can’t talk, but I can cook. That is about all I’ve got right now.