Pescado Empapelado – Fish Fillet Baked In Foil With Tomatoes, Onion, And Epazote.

Pescado Empapelado – Fish fillet baked in foil with tomatoes, onion, and epazote.

My cousin Lupita swore she saw Abuelita talking to the fish at the market. ¡Ay Dios mío!

Okay, okay. So, pescado empapelado. Sounds fancy, right? It’s not. Basically, it’s wrapping fish in paper, baking it, and hoping for the best. But honestly, the best is what you get. You gotta understand, we didn't have a ton growing up. No marble countertops or stainless steel appliances—just a lotta love, a well-worn comal, and this dish.

This isn’t some new-fangled foodie trend. This technique goes WAY back. Before there was parchment paper, Indigenous communities in Mexico were using banana leaves, corn husks, even…well, let’s just say resourceful materials (Abuelita always had a trick up her sleeve) to steam cook food. They knew heat circulated differently when wrapped like that, keeping everything moist and full of flavor. Honestly, brilliant, right? Like they were slow-cooking in their own little portable ovens.

The Spanish came along and kinda adopted the idea, but with paper, of course. Makes sense. Easier than foraging for giant leaves (though I bet Abuelita could find ‘em). And over time, it became a regional thing, especially popular in coastal areas where fresh fish was plentiful. Each family has their own twist, a little something extra. Ours involves epazote, which smells kinda like gasoline to some people (¡ándale!, don’t judge!), but it’s magic with fish—cuts through the richness, adds an earthy depth.

See, this whole thing brings me back to one very specific summer. I was, oh, maybe ten, perpetually covered in dirt, and convinced I could talk to animals. My cousins and I were running wild, terrorizing the neighborhood dogs. Abuelita decided we needed “culture.” Which meant helping her with the Saturday market haul. Now, normally, I loved the market. The colors, the smells, the drama—it was a telenovela unfolding in real life. But this particular Saturday, she insisted I choose the fish.

“Mija,” she said, giving me a look that meant business, “you pick the freshest one. Talk to them if you have to. See which one looks happiest.” Happiest! I swear, that woman. I spent a solid fifteen minutes staring at a pile of red snapper, trying to discern their moods. Meanwhile, Tía Mildred was yelling about the price of tomatoes. "¡Ay! These are robbery!" she exclaimed. She always thought everything was a conspiracy.

My cousin Mateo started making fish faces behind my back, and honestly, I almost just grabbed the first one and ran. But then… I don't know…one of them just looked at me. It wasn’t a happy look, exactly. More like a dignified resignation. Like it knew its fate. Still, I pointed it out to Abuelita.

She squeezed it, smelled it (she always smelled things), and nodded approvingly. “Good choice, mija. You have the gift.” The gift! Like I was some kind of fish whisperer.

Then, the real chaos began. We got home, and Tía Mildred decided she knew better than Abuelita how to prep the fish. This involved a LOT of loud opinions, dramatic sighs, and passive-aggressive knife sharpening. “You should be scaling from head to tail, not tail to head!” she’d scold. My abuelita would respond with a simple, “Mm-hmm.” And keep doing it her way.

Naturally, Mateo and his friends started mimicking Tía Mildred, flapping their arms and making fish-scaling noises. Abuelita tried to maintain order, but even she was cracking up. The kitchen was a disaster—scales everywhere, tomato juice splattered on the walls, epazote leaves floating in the air like confetti. By the time we finally wrapped those fish in paper, we were all exhausted and covered in goo.

But you know what? It tasted incredible. The fish was flaky and moist, infused with the bright flavors of tomato and onion, and that distinctive hint of epazote. Even Tía Mildred admitted it was good. Though she quickly added that she could have made it better. Naturally. She never missed an opportunity.

We ate outside, under the string lights, the neighborhood kids joining in. It wasn't fancy, but it was perfect. And every time I make pescado empapelado now, I remember that chaotic, wonderful summer day, and the feeling of being surrounded by family, even when they're driving you crazy. Then I think of Lupita’s story and wonder if Abuelita really did talk to the fish. I always add extra epazote. Just in case.

Husband Carlos walked through once when I was reminiscing, smelled the cooking fish and said, "Smells like your childhood." He's a smart man.

Recipe

Ingredients 🌽🥘

• 4 (6-ounce) red snapper fillets (or other firm white fish)
• 2 medium tomatoes, diced
• 1 medium white onion, thinly sliced
• 1/4 cup chopped fresh epazote leaves (if unavailable, use cilantro, but it’s not the same!)
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 lime, juiced
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 4 large sheets heavy-duty aluminum foil

Tools 🔪🥄

• Cutting board
• Sharp knife
• Large bowl
• Measuring cups & spoons

Steps

1. Preheat your oven to 375°F (190°C). You want things nice and toasty!
2. In a large bowl, combine the diced tomatoes, sliced onion, minced garlic, epazote, olive oil, lime juice, salt, and pepper. Give it a good mix—don’t be shy! This is where the magic happens.
3. Lay out four large sheets of aluminum foil. Make sure they're big enough to completely enclose each fillet – trust me, you don’t want leaks.
4. Place one fish fillet in the center of each foil sheet. Spoon an equal amount of the tomato mixture over each fillet, spreading it evenly. Don't skimp!
5. Fold the foil over the fish, creating a sealed packet. Crimp the edges tightly to prevent steam from escaping. We need that moisture locked in!
6. Place the foil packets on a baking sheet and bake for 25-30 minutes, or until the fish is cooked through and flakes easily with a fork. Be careful when opening the packets—hot steam will escape!
   ⏱ Timer

Make-Ahead / Storage

• You can prepare the tomato mixture up to 24 hours in advance and store it in the refrigerator.
• Assemble the foil packets several hours ahead of time and keep them refrigerated, ready to bake.
• Leftovers can be stored in the refrigerator for up to 2 days, but the fish will lose some of its texture. Reheat gently in the oven or microwave.
• Do NOT freeze this dish – the texture will be off when thawed.

Side Dish Pairing

• A simple salad of jicama, orange segments, and a chili-lime dressing. Something bright and refreshing to balance the richness of the fish.
• Esquites (Mexican street corn salad) with a little cotija cheese. It's a party in your mouth.

Tía Mildred always decía, "Everything tastes better if you complain about it while you eat it."

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