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- Just for the Halibut
Just for the Halibut
Missives from a messy kitchen, Issue #5
Hello, friends.
How’s your week been? Hopefully less traumatic than mine. We discovered a leak in the roof—cue drywall carnage—and all three of our beloved, overindulged four-legged children had vet visits. One of them? A late-night emergency. I’ll spare you the gory details, but I do still have to clean what appears to be a murder scene off one wall. Everyone’s fine… I think.
After that kind of emotional fallout, I needed comfort food.
Originally, I’d planned to make a whole red snapper dish from Les Halles. But no snapper to be found locally. I ventured into the wilds of seafood subscription box sites, only to learn that red snapper is overfished and hard to come by. Alrighty then.
Would Anthony have bought one anyway? Probably. And he would have made sure none of it went to waste. But would he opt for frozen, shipped from a mystery company across the country, and dropped on a sunlit south-facing porch?
So: menu change.
I still wanted fish. Fish is good for you. Healthy. So naturally, I chose Halibut Poached in Duck Fat (Appetites, pg. 150). Yes, really. Like a fish confit.
Had I ever cooked with duck fat before? Nope. Did I know where to get it? Also nope. But Google did.
Along with the duck fat, I ordered cardamom seed pods—apparently as scarce as red snapper around here. The fish marinates in cardamom seeds, fennel seeds, garlic, lemon zest, and oil. I raised an eyebrow at the chunky “marinade.”
“Just trust me,” I heard the ghost whisper.
Yes, chef.
The duck fat is delicate, buttery, and borderline ridiculous in the best way. This is quintessential Bourdain: take simple ingredients, treat them like royalty, and don’t you dare flinch at the fat.
To serve alongside? Mashed potatoes, kind of Robuchon style (Appetites, pg. 196). “Kind of” being key here. According to Anthony, if he shared the actual Joël Robuchon recipe, he’d have to kill us.

The recipe might do that anyway. I don’t have a culinary school diploma, but I do have two pounds of potatoes, one pound of butter, heavy cream, and a questionable sense of restraint. If you’ve read Les Halles, you know Anthony treated mashed potatoes like religion—sacred, sensual, not to be messed with.
These are the kinds of dishes that whisper “just this once” while you use every pan you own chasing impossible texture. They’re not about convenience. They’re about ceremony.
And that’s the thing about cooking this way. It slows you down. It makes you pay attention—to ingredients, to technique, to yourself. By the time I plated this meal, I felt honed and sharpened.
Anthony’s ghost was in the kitchen, no question. I’d spent an hour or two watching A Cook’s Tour before dinner. His presence was tangible. His attitude? Fully absorbed.
I know how to do this. I know when the potatoes are done. I know how to not overcook the fish.

Duck fat, butter, and some other stuff
I probably love cooking even more than eating—but this meal was excellent. The fish? Creamy. The potatoes? Like butter. Literally. I’d make both again in a heartbeat.
The vegetables? Look, I made green juice earlier. Full servings of fruit and veg. So don’t come at me about balance. I can feel his influence creeping into the whole “vegetables matter” thing. Salad? Sure. But make it with plenty of pancetta and bleu cheese. The stinkier the better.
Next week, I’m flirting with Osso Bucco (if I can find veal shanks), Korean Fried Chicken, French omelettes, or maybe Chicken Satay with Fake-Ass Spicy Peanut Sauce.
What do you want to see? Drop me a note—email or comments both work.
And as Anthony said in the opening of A Cook’s Tour:
“Chocolate tart, please.”
P.S. Did you know that if you have access to Kindle Unlimited books, you too can cook from Appetites? Or if you’re fancy, get the spiral bound version. But, I almost always recommend buying used books.
P.P.S. Some Amazon links might toss a few cents my way if you buy. It doesn’t cost you anything extra—but it might pay for more butter and keep the ghost well fed. Everybody wins.
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