Unveiling Spring: Pacific Cod & Baby Artichoke en Papillote
Listen, there is a rumor that cooking en papillote is fussy restaurant magic. Nonsense! It is actually the most forgiving, beautiful way to capture the soul of spring in a simple parchment pouch. The inspiration for this dish hit me last Tuesday. I was wandering the Santa Monica farmers market, clutching a glass of iced verbena tea, when I spotted the most spectacular, tight little baby artichokes from my favorite grower. They immediately reminded me of the ones my grandmother used to painstakingly braise in her Paris kitchen, but I wanted something lighter and more effortless for our warm West Coast evenings. So, we are nesting buttery Pacific cod over thinly sliced baby artichokes, tossing in briny Castelvetrano olives, and letting a splash of crisp white wine steam it all into sweet, fragrant harmony. Opening these at the dinner table is like receiving a tiny, delicious spa treatment. The puff of Meyer lemon and tarragon is intoxicating. This recipe is incredibly special to me because it bridges my formal French training with my beautifully lazy, sun-drenched California reality. To make it your own, feel free to swap the cod for halibut or toss in some shaved fennel. Just promise me you will serve it alongside a perfectly chilled, slightly funky Chenin Blanc!
Featured Recipe
Pacific Cod & Baby Artichoke en Papillote with Meyer Lemon & Tarragon
Listen, there is a rumor that cooking en papillote is fussy restaurant magic. Nonsense! It is actually the most forgiving, beautiful way to capture the soul of spring in a simple parchment pouch. We're nesting buttery Pacific cod over thinly sliced baby artichokes from the market, tossing in briny Castelvetrano olives, and letting a splash of crisp white wine steam it all into sweet, fragrant harmony. Opening these at the dinner table is like receiving a tiny, delicious spa treatment.
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Timeline
Ingredients
- 2 (6-oz) fillets Pacific cod fillets(Thick-cut, skinless)
- 6 Baby artichokes(Tough outer leaves removed, trimmed to the pale yellow hearts)
- 1 Meyer lemon(Half juiced, half thinly sliced)
- 1 Large shallot(Very thinly sliced)
- 1/4 cup Castelvetrano olives(Pitted and roughly torn)
- 1 tbsp Extra virgin olive oil(A bright, grassy California oil)
- 1/4 cup Dry white wine(I love a crisp Chenin Blanc or a zippy natural Vinho Verde here)
- 2 tbsp Cultured butter(Cut into small cubes)
- 2 sprigs Fresh tarragon(Plus a few extra leaves for scattering)
- 1 tsp Kosher salt(Divided use)
- 1/2 tsp Black pepper(Freshly cracked, divided use)
- 1 tbsp Meyer lemon juice(This is derived from the Meyer lemon listed in the ingredients, but the juice itself isn't explicitly listed.)
- 4 slices slices Meyer lemon(Used in Step 3, derived from the whole Meyer lemon.)
- 2 sprigs fresh tarragon sprigs(Used in Step 3, explicitly calling for 2 sprigs, but the ingredient list only mentions 2 sprigs total.)
Instructions
- 1
Preheat your oven to 400 degrees F. Let's prep our beautiful spring thistles. Snap the tough dark green outer leaves off 6 baby artichokes until you reach the pale, tender hearts. Trim the tops, peel the stems, and slice them vertically as thinly as possible. Immediately toss the slices with 1 tbsp Meyer lemon juice to keep them from oxidizing into a dull brown.
10 min
Tip: Don't be timid when peeling the artichokes; if the leaves resist bending, they are too tough to eat. Keep going until you see that buttery yellow hue.
- 2
In a mixing bowl, combine the lemon-soaked artichoke slices with 1 large shallot (sliced into gorgeous thin rings), 1/4 cup Castelvetrano olives, 1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, 1/2 tsp Kosher salt, and 1/4 tsp black pepper. Give it all a gentle massage with your hands so the shallot rings break apart and everything gets coated in that lovely Californian oil.
5 min
Tip: The Castelvetrano olives add the perfect briny counterpoint to the sweet baby artichokes.
- 3
Cut two large heart shapes out of parchment paper, about 15 inches wide. Open them up like a book. Divide the artichoke and olive mixture evenly onto the right side of each heart. Nestle 2 (6-oz) Pacific cod fillets on top of the vegetables. Season the fish with the remaining 1/2 tsp Kosher salt and 1/4 tsp black pepper. Adorn each fillet with 2 slices Meyer lemon (using 4 slices total), 1 sprig fresh tarragon (using 2 sprigs total), and dot with 2 tbsp cultured butter divided between the two.
5 min
Tip: Layering the fish over the vegetables allows the artichokes to braise perfectly in the cod's juices, the melting butter, and the wine.
- 4
Fold the left side of the parchment heart over the cod. Starting from the top curve, make tight, overlapping folds to seal the edges. Right before you seal the bottom tip, pour 1/8 cup dry white wine into each pouch (using 1/4 cup dry white wine total). Twist the final tip tightly to seal. Place the beautiful little packages on a baking sheet and bake for 12 to 15 minutes.
15 min
Tip: You want the pouches completely sealed so the steam gets trapped and inflates the parchment like a balloon.
- 5
While the cod is steaming, pour yourself the rest of that chilled white wine and set the table. En papillote waits for no one—it must be served the moment it leaves the oven!
10 min
Tip: This is a great time to pull out a crusty baguette; you will absolutely want it to soak up the buttery, lemony, wine-kissed broth at the bottom of the pouch.
- 6
Transfer the puffed parchment pouches directly to warm dinner plates. Serve immediately, inviting your guests to snip their pouches open with scissors right at the table. The puff of tarragon and Meyer lemon steam that escapes is pure California bistro heaven.
2 min
Tip: Warn your guests that the steam is hot, but tell them to lean in slightly to catch the incredible aroma.
Chef's Notes
Mes amis, the magic of this dish is in the quality of the ingredients. Spring baby artichokes are a fleeting treasure at the farmers market—if you can't find them, very thinly sliced fennel bulb works gorgeously in a pinch. The cultured butter is non-negotiable; it melts down into the wine and cod juices to create an instant beurre blanc right inside the paper. Serve with a crusty levain to mop up every last drop of that glorious broth.
Marguerite Lavigne
French soul, California sun
I grew up in a small village outside Lyon, where my grandmother taught me that the best meals come from respecting your ingredients. After training at Le Cordon Bleu and spending years in Parisian kitchens, I moved to San Francisco and fell in love with California's farmers markets and wine country. Now I cook the food I wish my grandmother could taste—French technique with California abundance, where a perfect roast chicken might come with Meyer lemon and wild fennel instead of tarragon.