As a chef, I usually have an image in my mind of what I want to create before I know exactly how I’m going to get there.
This one started almost entirely in color and texture.
I could see white fish against a delicate white sauce—something silky and elegant, almost monochromatic. But I didn’t want delicate to mean boring. I wanted a pop of flavor, some acidity, something fresh and green, and what my friend Heather likes to call “toasty bits” to tie the whole thing together.
Then I started working backward.
A few years ago, I bought a first-edition copy of Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking.
Then I did something Julia probably never anticipated: I started converting recipe after recipe to vegan.
What I discovered was that removing the butter, cream and animal proteins didn’t mean I had to abandon the thing I loved most about French cooking—the technique.
The browning. The braising. Building fond. Deglazing. Reduction. Layering flavor deliberately. Understanding that the liquid left behind in a pan isn’t something to throw away; sometimes it’s the most important ingredient in the entire dish.
Now that I’ve added seafood back into my diet occasionally, I’ve found myself returning to those techniques again.
But I don’t really want to go backward.
I want to take them somewhere else.
And that became Orange Roughy à la Fenouil: pan-seared orange roughy with caramelized braised fennel, red pearl onions and cannellini beans in a lime-miso cashew velouté, finished with pistachio-fennel gremolata.
It begins in France.
It just doesn’t stay there.
The architecture is French: caramelization, braising, fond, reduction, a velouté-inspired sauce and a carefully composed plate.
But it’s French without the heaviness.
Instead of building the sauce around dairy and roux, raw cashews give it body and silkiness. White miso brings Japanese fermentation, salinity and umami—not enough to announce itself, but enough to provide the bass note the sauce needs.
Lime replaces the expected lemon with something brighter and more aromatic. Cannellini brings Mediterranean earthiness. Pistachio brings richness and crunch.
And fennel ties the entire plate together in three forms: caramelized bulb, concentrated braising liquor and fresh frond.
And there are Heather’s toasty bits: the golden crust on the fish, the caramelized edges of the fennel and those roasted pistachios scattered across the top.
That’s the kind of fusion I love.
Not fusion for fusion’s sake. Not piling cuisines together simply because you can.
Each tradition solves a different problem on the plate.
Fennel and fish are the story. French technique is the grammar. Cashew is the body. Miso is the bass note. Lime is the high note. Pistachio is the punctuation.
And because every story deserves an ending, I poured a 2025 Domaine Salmon Sancerre from Bué in the Loire Valley.
The Sauvignon Blanc brought acidity against the cashew cream, minerality against the miso and beans, and citrus and herbal notes right back toward the lime and fennel.
So the dish started as an image in my head: white fish, white sauce, something bright, something green and, of course, some toasty bits.
Then it started in France, wandered through Japan and the Mediterranean, passed through the plant-forward kitchen I’ve lived in for the last few years…
…and the Sancerre brought it home.
L’accord mets-vin parfait. 🇫🇷🥂
****This recipe is written in order of operation, because that’s how we actually cook.
We’re starting with the fennel because its braising liquid becomes the backbone of our velouté. While that reduces, we’ll make the gremolata. Then we’ll build the sauce and get everything else ready.
The fish goes into the pan last.
I want it going from pan to plate with that beautiful golden crust intact—not sitting around dying while we’re still fucking around with the sauce.
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Orange Roughy à la Fenouil
Description
Orange Roughy à la Fenouil
French technique without French heaviness.
Global influence without culinary clutter.
Ingredients
1. BRAISE THE FENNEL & RED PEARL ONIONS
- 1 large fennel bulb, fronds reserved
- 8–10 red pearl onions, peeled
- 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
- ½ cup good vegetable stock
- Kosher salt
- Freshly cracked black pepper
MAKE THE PISTACHIO-FENNEL GREMOLATA
While that braising liquid is reducing, make the gremolata.
- ¼ cup roasted pistachios
- 1½ tablespoons finely chopped fennel fronds
- Zest of ½ lime
- 1–2 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil
- Flaky sea salt
Lime-Miso Cashew Velouté
- ½ cup raw, unsalted cashews
- ⅓–½ cup very hot water
- 2–3 tablespoons reduced fennel braising liquor
- 1 teaspoon white miso
- Zest of 1 lime
- 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice, divided
- 1 teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil
- Freshly cracked black pepper
- Kosher salt, only if needed
Pan-Seared Orange Roughy
- 2 orange roughy fillets, 5–7 ounces each
- 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
- 1 tablespoon plant-based butter
- Zest of ½ lime
- Kosher salt
- Freshly cracked black pepper
- 1 teaspoon fresh lime juice
Instructions
FENNEL & RED PEARL ONIONS
- Trim the fennel and save those fronds. We’re going to use them in the gremolata and again when we finish the plate.
- Cut the fennel vertically into substantial wedges, leaving enough of the core attached that the wedges hold together while they cook.
- Heat the olive oil over medium-high heat in a wide, heavy skillet or enameled cast-iron braiser.
- Add the fennel and pearl onions and season lightly with salt and pepper.
- Now leave them alone.
- Give them a good 3–4 minutes before you start moving things around. We’re looking for real caramelization here—not beige fennel.
- Turn and caramelize the other side.
- Once you’ve developed those gorgeous dark edges, add the vegetable stock and scrape up all the fond from the bottom of the pan. That’s flavor. Don’t leave it behind.
- Reduce the heat, cover and gently braise for approximately 8–10 minutes, until the fennel is tender but still has structure and the onions are soft, sweet and glossy.
- Remove the fennel and onions and keep them warm.
- And whatever you do: DO NOT THROW AWAY THE BRAISING LIQUID.
- Return the pan to the heat and reduce that liquid, uncovered, until only 2–3 intensely flavored tablespoons remain.
- That’s liquid gold. And it’s about to become the backbone of our sauce.
PISTACHIO-FENNEL GREMOLATA
- While that braising liquid is reducing, make the gremolata.
- Chop the pistachios by hand.
- We’re looking for little irregular pieces—not pistachio dust and definitely not pistachio butter.
- Combine with the chopped fennel fronds and lime zest.
- Add just enough olive oil to barely bring everything together and finish with flaky sea salt.
- Keep it loose and textural. This is not pesto.
- This is where we get what my friend Heather calls the “toasty bits.”
- Set it aside while you finish the rest of the dish.
LIME-MISO CASHEW VELOUT
- Into a high-speed blender go the cashews, ⅓ cup hot water, reduced fennel braising liquor, white miso, lime zest, half the lime juice, olive oil and several cracks of black pepper.
- Blend for 60–90 seconds until completely silky. Now look at it.
- Don’t blindly follow a measurement here. The sauce tells you what it needs.
- Add additional hot water one tablespoon at a time until you have a light velouté consistency—fluid enough to pool beautifully in the bowl but substantial enough to coat the back of a spoon.
- Taste before adding salt.
- The miso and concentrated braising liquor may have already done that job for you.
- If you want an especially refined sauce, pass it through a fine-mesh sieve.
- Transfer the velouté to a saucepan and warm it gently. Don’t boil it.
- Add the cannellini beans and allow them to warm through in the sauce.
- Return the fennel and pearl onions briefly, just long enough to glaze and rewarm them, then remove the fennel and onions for plating.
- Turn off the heat.
- Now add the remaining fresh lime juice.
- I want the sauce to unfold:
- Fennel first. Silky cashew second. Quiet savory miso underneath. Fresh lime on the finish.
- Keep everything warm while we cook the fish.
NOW COOK THE FISH
Everything else is ready.
Now—and only now—does the fish hit the pan.
- Pat the fish really fucking dry. This matters. Water is the enemy of a beautiful crust, and we’re looking for golden, not steamed.
- Season both sides with kosher salt, cracked black pepper and lime zest. Save the lime juice for later. Adding acid before the fish hits the pan starts changing the protein and works against the hard sear we’re after.
- Heat a heavy skillet over medium-high heat and add the olive oil.
- When the oil is shimmering, lay the fish presentation-side down. And then leave it the hell alone.
- Give it approximately 3 minutes without poking, lifting or otherwise harassing it. When a proper crust has formed, the fish will release much more willingly from the pan.
- Flip.
- Reduce the heat to medium and add the plant-based butter. As it melts and foams, tilt the pan and continuously spoon the butter over the fish for another 2–3 minutes, depending on thickness.
- We’re looking for moist, delicate fish with a deeply golden exterior—not something cooked into submission.
- Remove the pan from the heat.
- Add about a teaspoon of fresh lime juice to those beautiful buttery pan juices and spoon them back over the fish.
Notes
Chef Steph Notes
Buying the fish: Look for thick, firm fillets with moist, translucent-looking flesh and a clean, mild smell—never aggressively “fishy.” Ask your fishmonger what came in freshest and what they recommend as a responsibly sourced white fish. Orange roughy works beautifully here, but don’t sacrifice quality just to follow the recipe literally. A good piece of fish wins every time.
Cannellini beans: Canned are absolutely fine—and honestly, that’s what I’d use for two people on a weeknight. Buy a good-quality cannellini, drain and rinse them gently so they stay intact. If you want to start with dried beans, go for it, but there’s no culinary medal waiting for you because you soaked beans overnight.
Pistachios: I love the chili-lime pistachios that come already roasted and seasoned in the bag for this dish. They give us heat, citrus and Heather’s beloved “toasty bits” without adding another damn step. Taste them before adding extra salt or lime to the gremolata—they may have already done the work for you.
Choosing fennel: Look for a firm, medium-sized bulb that’s pale and tightly layered without browning, splitting or soft spots. And pay attention to the top: I specifically want a bulb with plenty of fresh, feathery green fronds, because we’re using those in the gremolata and again to finish the plate.
Red pearl onions: Choose firm, smooth onions without soft spots or sprouting. If you can only find white pearl onions, they’ll work—but those little burgundy-red onions against the white velouté are part of what I pictured when I designed the plate.
Cashews & miso: Use raw, unsalted cashews so you control the flavor and seasoning. For the miso, use white miso (shiro miso). It’s mild enough to add depth and umami without turning our delicate sauce into a miso sauce.
And buy good limes. You’re using both the juice and zest throughout the dish, so look for smooth-skinned limes that feel heavy for their size. If you’ve got a lime tree in the backyard, even fucking better.