Cast-Iron Memories: Pan-Fried Catfish & Pickled Ramp Buttermilk Dressing
Growing up in Atlanta, Friday nights meant my grandmother's backyard fish fries. The sizzle of catfish hitting hot oil in her seasoned cast-iron skillet was the soundtrack of my childhood. She taught me that the secret to the perfect crust isn't just cornmeal, but patience. This Cast-Iron Pan-Fried Catfish with Black-Eyed Pea Salad is my love letter to those humid summer nights, viewed through the lens of my time in Charleston's fine dining kitchens. I keep her golden, crispy cornmeal crust sacred, but I rest the fillets over a bright, herby black-eyed pea salad to cut the richness. The real magic, though, is the pickled ramp buttermilk dressing. I sneak in a tiny splash of fish sauce—an umami trick I learned along the way—that bridges the earthy peas and the sweet, tender catfish perfectly. What makes this dish so special to me is how it honors where I come from while showing where I have been. When you make this at home, do not be afraid to make it yours. Swap the ramps for pickled red onions if that is what you have in the pantry, but whatever you do, do not rush that cast-iron sear.
Featured Recipe
Cast-Iron Pan-Fried Catfish with Black-Eyed Pea Salad & Pickled Ramp Buttermilk Dressing
A chef's take on the classic Atlanta backyard fish fry. Golden, cornmeal-crisped catfish rests over a bright, herby black-eyed pea salad, finished with a buttermilk dressing that packs a savory, umami secret.
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Ingredients
- 4 (6-oz) fillets Catfish fillets(Farm-raised, patted dry)
- 4 whole Fresh ramps or spring onions(Thinly sliced, bulbs and greens separated)
- 4 whole Radishes(Thinly sliced)
- 1/4 cup Apple cider vinegar(For quick pickling)
- 1 tsp Granulated sugar
- 2 tsp Kosher salt(Divided use)
- 3/4 cup Buttermilk(Divided: 1/2 cup for dressing, 1/4 cup for dredging)
- 2 tbsp Mayonnaise
- 1 tbsp Fresh dill(Finely chopped)
- 1 tbsp Fresh parsley(Finely chopped)
- 1 tsp Fish sauce(The secret ingredient for depth)
- 1/2 tsp Black pepper(Freshly ground, divided)
- 1 (15-oz) can Black-eyed peas(Rinsed and drained well)
- 2 stalks Celery(Finely diced)
- 1 tbsp Olive oil
- 3/4 cup Yellow cornmeal(Fine or medium grind)
- 1/4 cup All-purpose flour
- 1 tsp Smoked paprika
- 1/2 tsp Garlic powder
- 1/4 tsp Cayenne pepper
- 1/4 cup Peanut oil or canola oil(For pan-frying)
- unknown reserved ramp greens(mentioned in step 3 but not in ingredient list)
- 1 tablespoon pickling liquid(mentioned in step 2 but not in ingredient list)
Instructions
- 1
In a small bowl, combine the sliced bulbs of 4 whole fresh ramps or spring onions and 4 whole radishes. Toss with 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar, 1 tsp granulated sugar, and 1/2 tsp kosher salt. Let sit to quick-pickle while you prepare the rest of the meal.
5 min
Tip: Slicing the radishes paper-thin ensures they absorb the vinegar quickly.
- 2
In a mixing bowl, whisk together 1/2 cup buttermilk, 2 tbsp mayonnaise, 1 tbsp finely chopped fresh dill, 1 tbsp finely chopped fresh parsley, 1 tsp fish sauce, 1/4 tsp black pepper, and 1 tablespoon of the pickling liquid from your resting ramps. Set aside.
5 min
Tip: The fish sauce won't make it taste fishy; it just adds a gorgeous savory backbone that elevates the tangy buttermilk.
- 3
In a serving bowl, combine 1 (15-oz) can black-eyed peas, 2 stalks celery, the reserved ramp greens, and 1 tbsp olive oil. Remove half of the pickled ramps and radishes from their liquid and fold them into the peas. Season with a pinch of salt and set aside to marinate.
5 min
Tip: Make sure the black-eyed peas are rinsed very well so they don't carry any metallic canned flavor.
- 4
Place a large cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat and add 1/4 cup peanut oil or canola oil. While it heats, whisk 3/4 cup yellow cornmeal, 1/4 cup all-purpose flour, 1 tsp smoked paprika, 1/2 tsp garlic powder, 1/4 tsp cayenne pepper, 1/2 tsp kosher salt, and 1/4 tsp black pepper in a wide, shallow dish.
5 min
Tip: Cast iron is essential here—it holds heat beautifully, giving you a perfect crust without needing to deep fry.
- 5
Pour the remaining 1/4 cup buttermilk onto a plate. Lightly dip each of the 4 (6-oz) catfish fillets into the buttermilk, letting excess drip off, then press firmly into the cornmeal mixture to coat both sides thoroughly.
5 min
Tip: Don't let the fish sit too long in the breading before frying, or it will get gummy. Dredge right before hitting the pan.
- 6
When the oil is shimmering (a pinch of cornmeal should sizzle instantly), carefully lay two coated catfish fillets into the pan. Pan-fry undisturbed for 3 to 4 minutes until golden brown and crispy. Flip gently and cook for another 3 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack set over a paper towel.
8 min
Tip: Always lay the fish away from you to prevent oil splatters.
- 7
Fry the remaining two catfish fillets in the skillet for 3 to 4 minutes per side, transferring them to the wire rack when finished.
8 min
Tip: If the pan gets too dry, add a splash more oil and let it heat back up before dropping the second batch.
- 8
To serve, spoon a generous mound of the black-eyed pea salad onto each plate. Top with a crispy catfish fillet, drizzle liberally with the buttermilk dressing, and garnish with the remaining pickled ramps and radishes.
4 min
Tip: Serve immediately while the crust is shatteringly crisp and contrasting with the cool, bright salad.
Chef's Notes
Growing up in Atlanta, the Friday night fish fry was practically a religious event. Huge vats of bubbling oil, folding tables, and neighbors laughing over the humid air. When I went to Charleston to train in fine dining, I learned that you don't actually need a deep fryer to get a soul-satisfying crunch. A properly seasoned cornmeal crust and a cast-iron skillet can do the heavy lifting beautifully. I serve this over a cool, herby black-eyed pea salad that cuts through the richness. My grandmother wouldn't know what to do with the splash of fish sauce I sneak into the buttermilk dressing, but it provides a depth that makes the whole plate sing. It's Friday night fish fry, plated for a Saturday night dinner party.
Marcus Stone
Heritage recipes with a chef's touch
My grandmother's kitchen in Atlanta is where I learned that food carries history. Every pot of collards, every batch of biscuits, every Sunday roast told stories of resilience, family, and love. I went on to train at the finest restaurants in Charleston and worked my way up through white-tablecloth kitchens. But I always came back to those family recipes—now I cook them with a chef's technique but a grandmother's heart. Because the best food honors where it came from.