Pescado A La Veracruzana – Fish Baked With Olives, Capers, And Tomato

Okay, let's see what you got. My abuela swore I was born with a spatula in my hand, but she forgot the part about me being a magnet for disaster. Honestly, it’s a miracle we still have a kitchen.

You want to talk about a proper fish dish? Veracruzana. It's not just a recipe, mija, it’s a history. Now, people get all fancy saying it came from Spanish cooks in Veracruz during the colonial period. ¡Ay Dios mío! That's true, sure. But my abuela would always add, “They learned from us how to really flavor things!” She wasn’t wrong, you know? We Mexicans elevate everything. Even what the Spaniards brought over. It's just…science.

It started with the Huastec people, see, they were fishing that coast way before anyone. They had these amazing spice blends, used achiote and peppers. Then the Spanish came, brought olives, capers. (Honestly, those olives are salty enough to cure a headache.) And somewhere in the middle, Veracruzana was born. A beautiful mix, like our family—a little spicy, a little bit briny, a whole lot of love... and drama.

I remember the first time I tried making Pescado a la Veracruzana solo. Oh, lord. I thought I could just wing it. Abuelita was watching, naturally. Not helping. Just observing, with that "mm-hmm" look that meant trouble. I burned the garlic. Burned it, you understand. The entire kitchen smelled like a tire fire. She didn’t say a word, just slowly raised an eyebrow.

Then Cousin Miguel starts laughing, saying, “Looks like someone needs more practice.” (That boy! Always stirring the pot). Abuelita finally spoke. “Mija,” she says, “You can’t rush flavor. You have to let it bloom." Like I wasn’t already mortified enough.

And then, Tía Mildred walked in, wearing a sequined jacket and sunglasses indoors. "What's all the commotion?" she asks, smelling the smoke, “Is someone trying to fumigate?” Of course she has to make a grand entrance. Honestly, that woman is a walking telenovela.

The second time, I actually followed the recipe. Almost. I got distracted chatting with my neighbor, Rosa, about her son's questionable fashion choices, and accidentally added sugar instead of salt. Sweet fish? Don't ask. Abuelita nearly fainted. It was…an experience.

Last year, I actually made a decent batch. Carlos, bless his heart, said it was “delicious”. (He always says that, even when I serve him burnt toast.) But Abuelita tasted it, paused for a dramatic moment, and declared, "It's getting closer. Still missing a little 'sazón', though." Sazón! That woman’s secret ingredient is impossible to replicate.

This one time, Tía Mildred decided she was a culinary expert and tried to "help" by adding a whole bottle of Worcestershire sauce. ¡Ay Dios mío!, the horror. The entire dish tasted like smoky sadness. We ordered pizza that night. She claimed it was a modern interpretation.

But slowly, after years of trial, error, and Abuelita's withering stares, I think I finally got it right. It’s still not quite as good as hers, but it’s close. Close enough that Miguel stopped laughing during dinner, at least. And Tía Mildred didn't attempt any "modern interpretations". A victory, if I ever saw one.

Recipe

Pescado a la Veracruzana – Fish Baked with Olives, Capers & Tomato

(A little bit of history on a plate)

Veracruzana is a vibrant dish from coastal Mexico, blending indigenous flavors with Spanish influences. This version seeks to capture the essence of my abuela’s cooking, with just a touch of my own chaotic flair.

Ingredients 🌽🥘

• 2 lbs firm white fish fillets (snapper, cod, or halibut)
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 red bell pepper, seeded and sliced
• 2 jalapeños, seeded and minced (optional, for heat)
• 2 (14.5 oz) cans diced tomatoes, undrained
• 1/2 cup green olives, pitted and halved
• 1/4 cup capers, drained
• 2 tbsp tomato paste
• 1 tsp dried oregano
• 1/2 tsp cumin
• 1/4 tsp cayenne pepper (optional)
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley, for garnish

Tools 🔪🥄

• Large skillet
• 9x13 inch baking dish
• Cutting board & knife
• Measuring cups & spoons

Steps

1. Preheat oven to 375°F (190°C). Lightly grease the baking dish. This is important! Trust me.
2. Season the fish fillets with salt and pepper. No need to go overboard—the sauce has plenty of flavor.
3. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add onion and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add garlic, bell pepper, and jalapeños (if using) and cook for another 3-5 minutes, until slightly tender. Don’t burn the garlic, mija! Abuelita will haunt you.
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4. Stir in diced tomatoes, olives, capers, tomato paste, oregano, cumin, and cayenne pepper (if using). Bring to a simmer and cook for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. (This is where the magic happens.)
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5. Pour the tomato mixture over the fish fillets in the prepared baking dish. Make sure the fish is nicely coated.
6. Bake for 20-25 minutes, or until the fish is cooked through and flakes easily with a fork. Watch it carefully! You don't want dry fish. Garnish with fresh parsley before serving.
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Make-Ahead / Storage

• The sauce can be made up to 2 days ahead and stored in the refrigerator.
• Leftovers can be refrigerated for up to 3 days.
• Reheat gently in the oven or microwave.
• Don’t freeze, it alters the texture too much.

Side Dish Pairing

• Roasted sweet plantains with cinnamon – the sweetness balances the savory flavors beautifully.
• A vibrant jicama salad with orange and lime — so refreshing!

Tía Mildred siempre decía, “A little bit of drama makes everything taste better.”

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