There’s a reason they call it “Cape Cod” and not “Cape Bass” or “Cape Flounder.” For centuries, cod was so central to New England’s economy and identity that a carved wooden Sacred Cod has hung in the Massachusetts State House since 1784. This humble fish built fortunes, fed families through hard winters, and connected New England to the world through the salt cod trade.

Today, I’m bringing cod back to the table where it belongs—not as preserved salt cod, but as fresh, flaky fillets treated with the respect this historic fish deserves. Pan-seared until the exterior is golden and crispy, then finished with a brown butter sauce scented with lemon and capers, this is New England’s most important fish meeting French technique in the most delicious way possible.

Cod: The Fish That Built New England

The story of New England is inseparable from the story of cod. When European fishermen first ventured to the waters off Newfoundland and New England in the 1500s, they found cod so abundant you could supposedly walk across their backs. The fish were massive—sometimes 6 feet long and over 200 pounds—and they seemed inexhaustible.

Cod fishing shaped everything: where people settled, how they made their living, what they ate, even colonial politics and trade routes. Salted cod could last for years without refrigeration, making it a valuable commodity that New Englanders shipped to Europe, the Caribbean, and beyond. The wealth from cod fishing helped fund the American Revolution.

By the late 1900s, overfishing had devastated cod populations, and strict regulations were put in place to help stocks recover. Today, when you buy Atlantic cod from New England waters, you’re supporting a fishery that’s being carefully managed for sustainability. It’s a fish with deep historical roots that we can still enjoy responsibly.

Why Cod Is Perfect for Pan-Searing

Cod has a mild, slightly sweet flavor and a firm, flaky texture that makes it incredibly versatile. It’s substantial enough to stand up to bold flavors but delicate enough that it doesn’t need much adornment. The flesh is white, clean-tasting, and has large, satisfying flakes when cooked properly.

The thickness of cod fillets makes them ideal for pan-searing. You can get a beautiful golden crust on the outside while the inside stays moist and just barely cooked through. Unlike thin, delicate fillets that can overcook in seconds, cod gives you a bit more margin for error while still delivering restaurant-quality results.

And for anyone who finds “fishy” flavors off-putting, cod is about as mild as fish gets. It’s approachable, familiar, and beloved for good reason.

Haddock: The Equally Worthy Alternative

While this recipe features cod, haddock deserves equal recognition as a New England treasure. Haddock is slightly smaller than cod with a more delicate, sweeter flavor. It’s the traditional fish for British-style fish and chips and the star of finnan haddie, a Scottish-influenced smoked haddock dish that became popular in New England.

Haddock and cod are closely related (both are in the Gadidae family) and can be used interchangeably in most recipes. Haddock has a slightly softer texture and a touch more sweetness, but it responds beautifully to the same cooking techniques. If your fishmonger has gorgeous haddock but no cod, don’t hesitate to make the swap—you’re still cooking with authentic New England tradition.

The Magic of Brown Butter with Fish

We’ve talked about brown butter in other recipes—that transformative moment when butter’s milk solids toast and caramelize, creating nutty, complex flavors. But brown butter with fish is a particularly special combination.

The French have known this for centuries. Sole meunière—Dover sole dredged in flour, pan-fried, and finished with brown butter and lemon—is a classic of French bistro cooking. The technique works because the richness of brown butter complements the delicate sweetness of white fish without overwhelming it.

For this recipe, the brown butter serves as both cooking fat and finishing sauce. First, you sear the fish in regular butter (brown butter burns too easily at searing temperatures). Then, while the fish rests, you make fresh brown butter in the same pan, picking up all those flavorful browned bits left behind. Add lemon juice to cut the richness, capers for briny pop, and you have a sauce that’s elegant, flavorful, and takes maybe three minutes to make.

The Technique: Getting That Perfect Sear

The key to beautiful pan-seared fish is a hot pan, dry fish, and the confidence not to move it around too much.

Dry the fish thoroughly: This is non-negotiable. Pat your cod fillets completely dry with paper towels. Any surface moisture will steam the fish instead of searing it, preventing that golden crust from forming.

Hot pan, not too much butter: Get your pan nice and hot before adding butter. The butter should sizzle immediately when it hits the pan. Too much butter will lower the temperature and cause steaming instead of searing.

Skin-side first (if your fish has skin): Start skin-side down to render any fat and crisp the skin. If your cod is skinless (common), start with what was the skin side—it’s typically the prettier side.

Don’t move it: This is where people go wrong. Once the fish hits the pan, leave it alone for 3-4 minutes. It needs uninterrupted contact with the hot pan to develop that crust. When it’s ready to flip, it will release easily. If it’s sticking, it’s not ready.

Flip once, finish gently: Flip carefully (a thin, flexible fish spatula is your best friend), then cook just until the fish is barely opaque in the center. Cod overcooks quickly and becomes dry, so err on the side of slightly underdone—carryover cooking will finish it.

Timing Is Everything

Cod is done when it reaches an internal temperature of 130-135°F and the flesh is opaque and flakes easily with a fork. But here’s the thing: by the time you insert a thermometer, you’ve already disrupted the fillet. I prefer to judge by look and feel.

The fish should feel firm but still have a slight give when you press it gently. The color should be opaque white throughout, and you should see the beginnings of flaking when you peek between the flakes with a fork. This usually takes 3-4 minutes per side for a 1-inch thick fillet, but thickness varies, so watch the fish, not the clock.

A Note on Sustainable Seafood

If you care about seafood sustainability (and I hope you do), look for these certifications when buying cod or haddock:

Marine Stewardship Council (MSC) certified
Gulf of Maine cod or haddock from well-managed fisheries
Ask your fishmonger where the fish came from and how it was caught

Line-caught or hook-and-line caught fish typically have less bycatch and environmental impact than trawled fish. Your local fishmonger should be able to answer these questions and point you toward the most sustainable options.

What to Serve With It

This cod is elegant enough for company but simple enough for a weeknight. It pairs beautifully with:

Mushroom wild rice: The earthy rice complements the delicate fish perfectly

Roasted potatoes: Use your saved duck fat if you have it

Simple greens: Arugula or spinach dressed with lemon

Winter squash galette: For a special dinner party spread

Crusty bread: To soak up every drop of that brown butter sauce

Leftovers (If You Have Any)

Leftover cod flakes beautifully into fish cakes, adds protein to a salad, or makes an excellent fish sandwich the next day. Or, if you’re feeling ambitious, use it in fish tacos with a simple slaw and lime crema.

But honestly? This cod is so good that leftovers are unlikely. The combination of crispy exterior, flaky interior, and that nutty, lemony brown butter sauce is completely irresistible.

Ready to give New England’s most historic fish the treatment it deserves? Let’s cook some cod.

Have you cooked with fresh cod before? Let me know in the comments how your brown butter sauce turned out!