“I need pictures.” So said my 17-year-old son as he prepared to steam sea bass on a recent Saturday night. Like most teenage boys, he was extremely hungry and wanting to get on with it. Steamed fish was a stretch far beyond his usual—eggs, ramen, and the occasional grilled steak. I could see him itching to consult Google Images, but this was a strictly analog situation; mothers can be cruel that way. Our only search engine was a copy of Eric Ripert’s new cookbook, Seafood Simple.
My plan was to determine if the author’s seventh cookbook, a “companion” to his previous one, Vegetable Simple, was worthy of its title when put into the hands of a true amateur. That my amateur was entirely unaware of Ripert’s existence, not to mention Le Bernardin’s—his plush, three-Michelin-starred temple to seafood in Midtown Manhattan, named this year’s best restaurant in the world by La Liste—only made him a better control subject.
He began by choosing two recipes after deeming a number of others “too simple,” the hubris of youth abiding as ever. The rejects included versions of dishes he’d eaten before, such as linguine vongole and fish tacos—their familiarity instantly rendering them uninteresting as a challenge—and anything in the tantalizing “Raw, Cured & Marinated” section of the book, including an array of tartares, ceviches, and carpaccios, preparations he considered “not really cooking.” (Who knows better: a teenager or a Michelin-starred chef?) Paging through the other techniques into which the book is sorted, nine in total, he settled on Black Bass with Tea-Citrus Infusion (from the “Steamed” section) and Shrimp Skewers with Green Curry Sauce (from the “Grilled” section). I, with my half a lifetime of cooking triumphs and failures, stood aside.
Off he went, chopping scallions, peeling and slicing ginger, yelling for bowls, his own Dada mise en prep. He scored the bass skin, lined a bamboo steamer with cabbage leaves as directed, threw in the scallions, then laid on the filets. Then came this instruction: “Set up a bamboo steamer: Choose a wide pot that your steamer can fit tightly over.” For a child of the TikTok era, these words did not suffice, hence his request for pictures. “Maybe there are some in the book?,” I offered.
There were, very logically placed at the beginning of the “Steamed” section: a step-by-step visualization of the pot, including the correct depth of boiling water, and the fitted steamer rack and lid. Six glorious color photos in all. Back in action, he chose the pot, added tea, spices, and ginger to the water, placed the steamer basket with the fish within it, and put on the lid. While the bass cooked, I was granted permission to cut some of the citrus supremes for garnish. It felt good to be needed, however briefly.
Perhaps deluded by affirmation, I said that the method suggested for checking if the bass was cooked seemed complicated: “Steam until a metal skewer inserted into the thickest part of the fish for 5 seconds feels warm when touched to your wrist, 5 to 7 minutes.” In return, I got some intergenerational side-eye as my son proceeded to execute this actually very sensible process like the pro he seemed to have become in 30 minutes under Ripert’s tutelage. A quick straining of the tea beneath the steamer plus a whisk of honey became the broth, then assembly was all that remained.
I am happy to say that the Black Bass with Tea-Citrus Infusion produced by my elder child looked exactly like the elegant one pictured in the book, no food stylist needed. It was also incredibly delicious, “light and brightly flavored … harmonious” as promised in the recipe note. Never has such sophistication been so easy.
It was so untaxing that it seemed totally reasonable to move on to making Shrimp Skewers with Green Curry Sauce directly after we finished gobbling down the bass. Though more labor-intensive, given the ingredients involved—threading raw shrimp and pineapple onto bamboo is slippery business; curry sauce has many more aromatics to chop than a tea infusion—it, too, was a triumph. Tangy, spicy, and slightly charred, perfect with a side of sticky rice.
There were some other accompaniments—my admiration for and pride in the cook, yes, but something else as well. In his introduction, Ripert makes figuring that out simple, too. “I truly believe food tastes better when prepared with love,” he writes. Yes, chef. And thank you, chef.
Eric Ripert’s Seafood Simple is out now from Random House
Melanie Rehak is the author of Girl Sleuth and Eating for Beginners. Her essays, reviews, food writing, and poetry have appeared in The New Yorker, The New York Times, Bookforum, The Paris Review, The Wall Street Journal, Vogue, and others
