A letter to friendship, the food industry, and cooking what you catch — even when the Sunshine State forgets to shine.
Once in a while — during the winter when the farm and markets are quiet — it’s nice to step away from the day to day, clear my head and gain some perspective and reconnect with old friends. Fly south. Get out on the water. Cook over an open fire. This was one of those trips.
Four of us — all connected through different branches of the food industry, and all connected through Norman’s — descended on Florida’s Treasure Coast for a couple of days of fishing the Atlantic and Lake Okeechobee.
The only thing Florida forgot to bring was the weather. We landed during the coldest stretch the state had seen in fifty years.
The Crew
What made this trip special wasn’t just the fishing or the food — it was the company. Each of us comes at the food world from a different angle, but we all share a connection to Norman’s that goes back years, some of us decades.
Miguel Franco is one of my closest friends and the Chief Commercial Officer at Cuisine Solutions, the world’s largest sous vide company. Miguel’s connection to Norman’s runs deep — all the way back to the mid-nineties when we were just getting started at our Jones Mill Road location. It was Miguel’s charm that convinced the park police not to kick us off the site. Without him, there might not be a Norman’s as we know it today.
Oren Molovinsky is my brother-in-law and a force in the food world. Oren was very active in the DC restaurant scene in the early 2000s — he developed Mala Tang, a traditional Sichuan concept that was named one of the Top 10 New Restaurants in the Washington, DC area by Washingtonian Magazine. These days he’s a restaurateur, a farmer at Mo’Lovin Farms in Arizona, a huge proponent of ancient and heritage grains and slow sourdough fermentation, and a partner with James Beard Award-winning baker Don Guerra in Don Guerra’s Barrio Bagel & Slice. He’s also deeply passionate about the emerging wine scene in Sonoita, Arizona. Oren brings a genuine curiosity to everything he touches.
Frederic Carliez manages our Farm Kitchen and Gourmet product line at Norman’s. Fred brings over a decade of experience in broadline and specialty gourmet food service distribution — he’s the guy who sources the salamis, cheeses, seafood, spices, and specialty items that have helped transform Norman’s from a seasonal produce stand into a year-round culinary destination. His eye for quality and his deep connections across the food industry have been instrumental in the evolution of our business.
And then there’s me — Farmer John — the common thread that connects these three and somehow picked the coldest week in Florida in half a century to do it.
Day One: The Atlantic — Finding Nemo
We chartered out of Fort Pierce with Captain Joey — a firefighter who took us out following a long shift. Joey and Miguel go way back. They share a passion for fishing and have a rapport that’s obvious the moment you see them together. The two met when Miguel couldn’t find anyone willing to take him out due to bad weather — Joey was the one who said forget the ocean, let’s hit Lake Okeechobee. We headed out in search of sea bass, red snapper, porgy, and triggerfish. It was cold and rainy — not exactly what you picture when you book a fishing trip to Florida. We were dressed in layers no one packs for a Florida trip — beanies, neck gaiters, puffer jackets.
The fishing was tough. The cold had pushed everything deeper and made the bite unpredictable. Most of what we pulled up were undersized and had to go back. Captain Joey, shaking his head with a grin, said it was like we were out here finding Nemo — catching everything, keeping nothing. But none of us really cared. We were on the water, we were laughing, and we were happy to be there.
By the end of the day, we’d managed to land enough red snapper and sea bass to make something worthwhile — not a hero’s haul by any stretch, but enough for a good ceviche, and that was plenty.
Captain Joey filleted the catch at the dock while we stood there shivering, watching him work a knife with the kind of efficiency that comes from doing this ten thousand times. The palm trees behind us swayed in a wind that had no business being that cold.
We warmed up and dried off at a local pub, crowding around a table with cold beers and steaming bowls of mussels and clams. From there, we swung by the market and picked up some rib eye steaks, vegetables, and a few bottles of wine to round out the evening.
The First Fire
Back at the homestead, everyone found their role without being asked — the way it goes when you put food people together. Miguel set to work on the ceviche using the snapper from the day’s catch. I built the fire. Fred chopped vegetables. Oren prepped the steaks and poured the wine. Throughout the trip, Oren was the one handling the proteins and working the grill, with Miguel — drawing on his Argentinian roots — providing expertise and supervision from a nearby chair, wine in hand.
I should mention that Oren was also the guy who woke up a full hour before everyone else each morning to make breakfast sandwiches. That’s just Oren.
We fashioned our cooking setup from a borrowed cinder block and grill grate over the fire pit. We’d build the fire on one side, then shovel the embers under the grate to keep it at cooking temp. Simple, but it worked.
The ceviche came first — a simple, bright preparation. Miguel let the citrus do the work, and it was perfect: clean, cold, and electric with lime and jalapeño. We passed the bowl around while the fire did its thing.
As the embers settled, the rib eyes hit the grate. Vegetables roasted in foil at the edges. The cold night air carried the smell of searing beef and wood smoke. We stood around that fire pit, wine in hand, and the conversation opened up the way it only does when you’re standing in the dark around a flame with people you trust.
We talked about food trends — large and small, national and international. The future of sous vide. Heritage grains and slow fermentation. The state of the restaurant industry and where it could and should be headed. We connected the dots of who’s who across the business. Part guys trip, part meeting of the minds.
The meal was a spread: ceviche, fire-roasted vegetables, thick-cut rib eyes with a gorgeous char, and a cast iron skillet of sausages and potatoes. We brought it all inside to the dining room table — a feast fit for kings.
Day Two: Lake Okeechobee — Jurassic Park at Dawn
The alarm went off at 3:30 AM. Nobody complained.
We loaded up and drove west through the darkness toward Lake Okeechobee, Florida’s great inland sea, to fish for speck using jigs in the grassy shallows.
As we hit the water, the sun began to rise. The air was frigid — the kind of cold that bites the exposed skin on your face and makes your eyes water. But what unfolded in front of us was worth every degree of discomfort.
The canals leading to the lake were glass. Perfectly still, mirror-smooth water reflecting the pink and gold of the early sky. As our boat cut through, waterfowl exploded from the reeds on either side — great blue herons lifting off in slow, prehistoric wingbeats, osprey circling overhead, cormorants diving and resurfacing. As the fog lifted off the water and the birds crossed between us and the rising sun, it felt like Jurassic Park. Primordial. Untouched.
And then, overhead — flamingos. Actual flocks of flamingos flying in formation against the brightening sky. I’d never seen them in the wild before. Nobody said a word. We just watched.
The fishing was fun but modest. We jigged for speck in the shallows and pulled a few nice ones, but the real surprise came when we lucked into a run of tilapia. Tilapia aren’t indigenous to Lake Okeechobee — they’re an introduced species that has made the lake its home — but they’re plentiful, and they make for excellent eating.
Sid’s Farm
We took our catch to clean at a small farm nearby, the home of Miguel’s friend Sid. Sid is one of those guys you meet in rural Florida who defies any single description — he’s a mechanic, an inventor, a farmer, and quite a cook. His property is a working operation with a garden full of peppers and tropical fruit trees, (many which he lost during the recent freeze). He clearly knows what to do with everything he grows.
Sid sent us home with two gifts that would transform our dinner: a homemade mango hot sauce made from mangoes and peppers grown right there on his farm, and an incredible blackened Cajun seasoning — his own recipe. Both were exceptional, and both made it directly into our fish tacos that night.
Captain Joey and Sid filleted the tilapia on a table under the covered porch, ice scattered across the surface, working side by side with a quiet efficiency. It was something to watch — two guys who’ve cleaned fish their whole lives, knives moving like second nature. The late afternoon sun was finally warm, and for the first time all trip, it actually felt like Florida.
Our catch of tilapiaThe Second Fire
The second evening was all about the tacos. We rebuilt the fire, shoveled the embers under the grate, and placed the cast iron skillet on top.
The tilapia fillets got a generous coating of Sid’s blackened Cajun seasoning and went into the hot skillet alongside onions and peppers. Meanwhile, we put together a fresh pico de gallo with diced tomatoes, peppers, onions, and cilantro. Sliced avocados, sour cream, fresh limes, and Sid’s mango hot sauce lined the table.
Everything came together family-style. You grabbed a warm tortilla, loaded it up with the blackened fish, piled on the pico and avocado, hit it with a squeeze of lime and a drizzle of that mango hot sauce, and you had one of the best fish tacos I’ve ever eaten. Simple. Fresh. Made from fish we caught that morning, seasoned with spices from a farmer’s garden, and cooked over an open flame.
Two nights, two fires, two very different meals — but the same setup, the same crew, the same feeling. There was something about committing to cooking everything over the fire that stripped it all down to the essentials. No kitchen, no range, no overhead lights. Just embers, cast iron, a cinder block, and whatever you caught that day. A bit of that Francis Mallmann approach to food — elemental, uncomplicated, and a good reminder of why we all got into this in the first place.
That’s the thing about cooking this way. It doesn’t need to be complicated. It needs to be honest.
Already counting down to next year.
Until then, here are the recipes.
— Farmer John
Miguel’s Red Snapper Ceviche
Fresh Catch cevicheServes 4–6 as an appetizer
Miguel made this ceviche from the snapper we’d caught on the Atlantic. Simple, bright, and clean — the citrus does the work and the whole thing comes together in under an hour. The perfect thing to eat standing around a fire pit while the fish tacos are still working.
Ingredients
- 1 lb fresh red snapper fillets, skin removed, cut into small ½-inch dice
- ¾ cup fresh lime juice (about 6–8 limes)
- 2–3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
- ½ red onion, thinly sliced into rings
- 1 jalapeño, seeded and finely minced (leave seeds in if you like heat)
- 1–2 ripe avocados, diced
- Fresh cilantro, roughly chopped
- Salt to taste
- Tortilla chips or tostadas for serving
Method
Dice the snapper into small, even pieces about a half-inch square. The smaller the dice, the faster the citrus will work. Place the fish in a non-reactive bowl — glass or ceramic, never metal.
Pour the lime juice over the fish, making sure every piece is submerged. Season with salt. Cover and refrigerate for 25–40 minutes. You’re looking for the fish to turn opaque and firm — it should look cooked through. Don’t let it sit too long or it gets rubbery.
While the fish cures, prep your onion, jalapeño, and cilantro.
Drain about half the citrus juice from the bowl. You want the ceviche to be saucy, not swimming.
Fold in the red onion, jalapeño, garlic and cilantro. Season with more salt if needed.
Add the avocado last — gently fold it in so it doesn’t turn to mush.
Taste and adjust. More lime? More salt? More heat? Make it yours.
Serve cold with tortilla chips or on tostadas. Best eaten within an hour or two of making it.
Farmer John’s Fireside Fish Tacos
Serves 4
These tacos were born out of necessity and turned out to be one of the best meals of the trip. Tilapia from Lake Okeechobee, blackened in a cast iron skillet over an open fire, topped with a fresh pico de gallo and a drizzle of Sid’s mango hot sauce. You don’t need a fancy kitchen. You need a fire, a skillet, and good ingredients.
The Fish
- 1.5 lbs tilapia fillets (or any firm white fish)
- 2–3 tbsp blackened Cajun seasoning (Sid’s recipe, or your favorite blend)
- 2 tbsp avocado oil or butter
- Salt to taste
The Pico de Gallo
- 3 Roma tomatoes, diced
- ½ cup white onion, finely diced
- 1 jalapeño, seeded and finely minced
- ¼ cup fresh cilantro, chopped
- Juice of 1 lime
- Salt to taste
The Skillet Peppers & Onions
- 1 large yellow onion, sliced into half-moons
- 2 bell peppers (any color), sliced into strips
- 1 tbsp avocado oil
- Salt and pepper to taste
To Serve
- 8–12 small flour or corn tortillas, warmed
- 1–2 ripe avocados, sliced
- Sour cream
- Fresh limes, cut into wedges
- Mango hot sauce (if you’re lucky enough to know a Sid)
- Your favorite hot sauce
Method
Make the pico de gallo first. Combine the diced tomatoes, onion, jalapeño, cilantro, and lime juice in a bowl. Season with salt. Set aside and let the flavors come together while you prep everything else.
Get your fire ready. You want a solid bed of embers with no active flame — consistent, even heat. Set your grate and place the cast iron skillet on it to preheat.
Cook the peppers and onions. Add a splash of oil to the hot skillet, then the sliced onions and peppers. Cook, stirring occasionally, until they’re softened and have some char — about 8–10 minutes. Remove and set aside.
Season the fish. Pat the tilapia fillets dry and coat both sides generously with the blackened Cajun seasoning. Don’t be shy — the seasoning is what makes these tacos.
Cook the fish. Add oil or butter to the skillet. When it shimmers (or when the butter foams and calms), lay the fillets in. Cook 3–4 minutes per side, depending on thickness, until the crust is dark and fragrant and the fish flakes easily. Break the fillets into large chunks right in the skillet.
Build your tacos. Warm tortilla, a few chunks of blackened fish, a spoonful of the peppers and onions, a generous pile of pico de gallo, sliced avocado, a dollop of sour cream, a squeeze of lime, and — if you’ve got it — a drizzle of mango hot sauce.
Eat immediately. Standing up is fine. Around a fire is better.
Fish from the Atlantic and Lake Okeechobee. Cajun seasoning and mango hot sauce courtesy of Sid. Fire pit cooking by the whole crew. Good company from start to finish.
Shout out to Captain Joey at Ft. Pierce Fishing Charters for putting us on the fish — even when the fish weren’t cooperating.
— Farmer John, Norman’s Farm Market
