Cast-Iron Seared Catfish with Creamy Stewed Butter Beans & Charred Scallion Butter
Growing up in Atlanta, Friday nights meant fish. My grandmother would fry up whatever came fresh from the market, but during my years training in Charleston, I learned to look at fish—and the rivers they came from—with a new reverence. This recipe is a love letter to those memories, marrying the rustic soul of Sunday suppers with the technique of fine dining. We start with crisp-crusted, spice-rubbed catfish fillets seared hard in screaming-hot cast iron. They nestle right over a bowl of velvety, bacon-simmered heirloom butter beans that take me straight back to my grandmother's kitchen. But here is where we push tradition forward: we finish the whole plate with a spoonful of nutty pan-basted butter brightened with charred scallions, fresh lemon, and a sneaky little dash of fish sauce. That umami kick bridges deep Lowcountry roots and modern technique. My biggest tip? Don't rush the beans; let them get impossibly creamy, and make sure your cast iron is smoking hot before the fish goes in. Every bite carries history, and I cannot wait for you to make it a part of yours.
Featured Recipe
Cast-Iron Seared Catfish with Creamy Stewed Butter Beans & Charred Scallion Butter
Crisp-crusted, spice-rubbed catfish fillets seared hard in screaming-hot cast iron, nestled over a bowl of velvety, bacon-simmered heirloom butter beans. Finished with a spoonful of nutty pan-basted butter brightened with charred scallions, fresh lemon, and a subtle dash of fish sauce, this dinner bridges deep Lowcountry roots and refined Southern craft.
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Timeline
Ingredients
- 4 fillets skinless catfish fillets(about 6 to 7 oz each, patted thoroughly dry)
- 4 slices smoked thick-cut bacon(cut into 1/4-inch lardons)
- 16 oz frozen large butter beans(or fresh shelled butter beans)
- 1 medium sweet Vidalia onion(finely diced, about 1 cup)
- 1 celery stalk(finely diced)
- 4 cloves garlic(minced)
- 2 cups low-sodium chicken broth(warm)
- 0.25 cup heavy cream
- 4 sprigs fresh thyme(tied with butcher's twine)
- 1 bay leaf(dried)
- 1.5 tsp smoked paprika
- 1 tsp garlic powder
- 1 tsp onion powder
- 0.5 tsp dried oregano
- 0.5 tsp cayenne pepper(adjust to taste)
- 2.25 tsp kosher salt(divided)
- 1.25 tsp freshly cracked black pepper(divided)
- 4 tbsp unsalted butter(cold, cut into cubes, divided)
- 2 tbsp neutral cooking oil(such as peanut or grapeseed oil)
- 4 scallions(thinly sliced, white and green parts separated)
- 1 tsp fish sauce(Marcus's secret umami boost)
- 1 tbsp fresh lemon juice(from half a lemon)
- 1 stalk celery(finely diced)
- 4 scallions(white parts and green tops separated)
Instructions
- 1
In a heavy-bottomed Dutch oven or medium saucepan over medium heat, render 4 slices smoked thick-cut bacon until the lardons are golden brown and crisp, about 6 minutes. Remove the crispy bacon with a slotted spoon to a paper towel-lined plate, reserving 2 tablespoons of rendered bacon fat in the pot.
6 min
Tip: Start the bacon in a cold pot so the fat renders out smoothly without burning.
- 2
Add 1 medium sweet Vidalia onion, 1 finely diced celery stalk, and 1/2 tsp kosher salt to the hot bacon fat. Sauté over medium heat until the vegetables soften and turn translucent, about 5 minutes. Stir in 4 minced garlic cloves and cook until fragrant, about 1 minute more.
6 min
Tip: Sweat the aromatics gently; you want natural sweetness rather than heavy browning.
- 3
Add 16 oz frozen large butter beans, 2 cups low-sodium chicken broth, 4 sprigs fresh thyme, and 1 dried bay leaf to the pot. Bring to a rolling boil over medium-high heat, then reduce heat to low, cover with the lid slightly ajar, and let simmer gently until the beans are melt-in-your-mouth creamy, about 25 minutes.
25 min
Tip: If the liquid reduces too fast before the butter beans are completely tender, splash in an extra 1/4 cup of warm broth or water.
- 4
While the beans simmer, mix together the spice rub in a small bowl: combine 1.5 tsp smoked paprika, 1 tsp garlic powder, 1 tsp onion powder, 0.5 tsp dried oregano, 0.5 tsp cayenne pepper, 1.5 tsp kosher salt, and 1 tsp freshly cracked black pepper. Pat 4 skinless catfish fillets completely dry with paper towels, then season both sides generously and evenly with the spice rub, pressing it into the flesh.
5 min
Tip: Drying the fish thoroughly with paper towels is the real secret to achieving a deep, caramelized crust instead of steaming the fillets.
- 5
Set a large 12-inch cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat and let it preheat dry until a wisp of smoke appears, about 4 minutes. Add 2 tbsp neutral cooking oil and swirl to coat the surface evenly.
4 min
Tip: Cast iron needs proper preheating to build an even thermal reservoir that won't drop in temperature when the cold fish hits the pan.
- 6
Carefully lay 4 skinless catfish fillets into the screaming-hot skillet, laying them away from you to prevent splatters. Sear undisturbed for 4 minutes until a deeply bronzed, blackened crust forms. Carefully flip the fillets using a fish spatula.
4 min
Tip: Don't try to move the fish too early. When the crust forms properly, the fish will naturally release from the cast-iron seasoning.
- 7
Immediately drop 2 tbsp unsalted butter and the white parts of 4 scallions into the skillet around the seared fish. As the butter froths and browns, tilt the skillet slightly and use a large spoon to baste the foaming herb butter continuously over the fillets for 3 minutes until cooked through and flaking gently. Transfer fish to a warm platter to rest.
3 min
Tip: Continuous butter basting cooks the top gently, imparts rich nuttiness, and seals in moisture.
- 8
Off the heat, immediately add the remaining 2 tbsp unsalted butter, 1 tbsp fresh lemon juice, 1 tsp fish sauce, and the sliced green tops of 4 scallions directly into the hot cast-iron skillet drippings. Swirl the skillet vigorously until the butter melts into a glossy, fragrant pan sauce.
2 min
Tip: The residual heat of the cast iron will easily melt the butter and emulsify the lemon juice and fish sauce into pan velvet.
- 9
Uncover the stewed butter beans. Discard the thyme stems and bay leaf. Stir in 0.25 cup heavy cream, 1/4 tsp kosher salt, and 1/4 tsp freshly cracked black pepper. Using the back of a wooden spoon, gently crush about a quarter of the butter beans against the side of the pot to release their starches, stirring until rich, creamy, and thickened.
3 min
Tip: Crushing a small portion of the beans gives you that luxurious, spoon-coating stew consistency without needing extra flour or starch.
- 10
Ladle the creamy stewed butter beans into four wide shallow bowls. Top each with a seared catfish fillet. Spoon the warm charred scallion pan butter generously over each fillet, and scatter the reserved 4 slices smoked thick-cut bacon lardons on top.
2 min
Tip: Serve immediately while the catfish crust is piping hot and contrasting with the silky butter beans.
Chef's Notes
Down South, folks usually throw catfish into a deep vat of cornmeal and hot grease, and while I dearly love a fish fry, searing catfish in screaming-hot cast iron gives this humble river fish the royal treatment it deserves. Growing up in Atlanta, my grandmother always kept a pot of butter beans simmering on the back eye of the stove on Sunday afternoons. They have a rich, velvety sweetness that balances the bold, smoky spices on the fish like nothing else. My little fine-dining Charleston trick here is finishing the pan drippings with cold butter, fresh lemon, and just a splash of fish sauce—it doesn't taste 'fishy,' but instead unlocks an incredible depth of savory pot-likker savoriness that will have everyone scraping the bottom of their bowls.
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.