This Hot Fish Sandwich Was My Favorite Dinner of 2020

I honestly just want sandwiches. In the time of a pandemic, in the time of not-a-pandemic: sandwiches.

Sure, I eat other stuff. I eat soups and salads. I eat puréed kale stems and various things over rice. I love this cabbage casserole. But if every mealtime could have a sandwich component, I think the world would probably be a little better: an open-face pimiento cheese situation, a spicy Korean pork moment, a taco (which, yes, is a sandwich, don’t @ me).

I don’t think I need to explain further, then, when I say the first recipe I tried from chef Matty Matheson’s latest book, Home Style Cookery, was a sandwich. It was a sandwich that spoke to the core of my being, since I’m from Tennessee: his rendition of a Nashville hot fish sandwich.

Matheson did not invent this idea. Many great chefs have been slinging fish alongside hot chicken in Nashville for as long as they’ve been cooking, even if the more aquatic option didn’t secure the same press agent. At restaurants like Bolton’s, fillets of whiting, catfish, and grouper are deep-fried and dressed with a fiery sauce. They’re often served with crisp onions, sweet pickles, and white bread for sandwiching—or for eating between bites to quell the chile heat.

The cheesy, spicy, bright, and buttery wheels from her latest cookbook are coming with me into the new year.

Matheson’s recipe calls for halibut, which comes in meaty, thick fillets, but it also works with any skinless flaky white fish. To make the sandwich, you bread the fillets with a one-two-three dredge in seasoned flour, egg, and panko, and then fry the fish until crisp and golden. You transfer the fried fillets to a rack set over a sheet pan and then proceed to spoon the glossy chile-infused sauce all over them until they are totally coated in a shade I’m calling screaming (and-a-little-intimidating) red.

Here’s the thing about that sauce, though: It’s actually not as intense as your mind would have you believe. It’s made by frying Scotch bonnet, jalapeño, and bird’s-eye chiles in oil and then puréeing them, seeds and all, with butter, cayenne, and paprika. It sounds wildly hot, I know. But as those chiles fry, their sweetness comes out. They caramelize—the edges may even char. The (admittedly large) portion of butter then tempers their heat even more.

Don’t get me wrong, this is still a sandwich with BIG HEAT, but it doesn’t scorch your mouth. You can taste the flavor of the chiles. The spiciness hits your tongue and warms your palate, but it doesn’t burn or linger for too long afterward.

Matheson finishes his sandwiches with slices of American cheese—get it onto the fish while the fillets are hot so that it melts into the craggy, crunchy breading—plus those sweet pickles, a swath of mayo (he likes Duke’s, but I’m a Blue Plate loyalist), and raw white onion (rinse and dry the onions first for better flavor).

You’ll be left with extra chile butter, even after glazing the six portions the recipe makes. It lasts for weeks in the fridge, and I’ve found it a great vehicle for frying eggs. It’s also good for spreading on a savory toast or melting and drizzling over any dish where you want a little extra heat and richness without the vinegar kick of many hot sauces. And if you want to use it as a straight-up sandwich spread? Sounds good to me.

Nashville Hot Halibut Sandwich

Originally Appeared on Epicurious