So, There’s This Salmon Recipe I Keep Coming Back To…

Honestly, if you told me ten years ago I’d be waxing poetic about salmon and bourbon in the same breath, I’d probably have raised an eyebrow (or both). But here we are. My first crack at Bourbon Peach Roasted Salmon was totally because I had half a jar of peach preserves, a lonely fillet, and the bottom of a bourbon bottle. It was a weeknight, one of those that sort of sneaks up on you, and I wasn’t really in the mood for anything fancy—but bam, this just worked. Now it’s the thing I make when want-to-feel-fancy-meets-feed-the-family chaos.

And let me just say, once, I dropped the whole baking tray on the kitchen floor. Salmon everywhere. My dog still gives me that hopeful look anytime I roast fish. Lesson learned: oven mitts help. Or maybe just don’t daydream mid-cook.

Why I Come Back to This (And You Might Too)

I bust out Bourbon Peach Roasted Salmon when my cousin’s in town, because she always claims she “doesn’t like sweet things on her dinner plate”—until this, anyway. The sticky, boozy glaze has a way of sneaking into even the most reserved taste buds. And, my little one will actually eat seconds (probably because she thinks the bourbon part means it’s grown-up food!).

If I’ve had a day (capital D), I’ll even throw it together just for me, glass of cold white wine on the side, but sometimes I have to talk myself out of just dunking everything in the marinade and calling it a night. I’m impatient, what can I say?

What You’ll Need (Plus… Substitutes and Shortcuts)

4 salmon fillets (about 1.5 lbs all together; wild-caught, but honestly sometimes whatever’s the freshest, or even frozen, I just thaw and pat dry)
1/3 cup peach preserves (My grandmother swore by Bonne Maman, but any old jar will do—sometimes I swap for apricot if that’s what’s in the fridge)
2 tablespoons bourbon (I won’t lie: I usually use whatever’s leftover from last Friday. Jim Beam works, or even a splash more if you’re feeling generous)
2 tablespoons soy sauce (or tamari, if you want it gluten-free—on occasion, I’ve reached for Worcestershire, which is… fine?)
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard (Stone ground’s nice but classic yellow works too, just a little more tangy)
2 cloves garlic, minced (I’ll even use pre-minced jar stuff if I’m in a hurry—shhh, don’t judge)
1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger (dried is okay in a pinch, but it’s just not as zingy)
A squeeze of lemon (Optional but it wakes things up—sometimes I skip it and don’t even notice)
Salt and pepper to taste
Fresh thyme or parsley for garnish (if you’re feeling fancy, but I honestly forget half the time)

Alright, Let’s Cook This Thing

Preheat your oven to 425°F (220°C). Or, if you’re like me and your oven runs hot, maybe crank it down to 400°F so you don’t burn your dinner like that one time last September.
Line a baking sheet with parchment… or just spray it if you can’t be bothered. I’ve been known to use foil, but parchment is less sticky.
Mix up your glaze: In a bowl, whisk together the peach preserves, bourbon, soy sauce, mustard, garlic, ginger, and that optimistic squeeze of lemon. If it’s super thick, you can thin it with a splash of water. This is where I take a sneaky taste—don’t tell anyone.
Place the salmon skin-side down on the sheet. Pat it dry, give it a sprinkle of salt and pepper (I’m heavy-handed with pepper, but yours, your rules).
Slather—yes, slather—the glaze all over the salmon. Really get in there. Save a little back for brushing at the end.
Roast in the oven for about 13 to 16 minutes, depending on how thick your salmon is. Sometimes mine cooks in 12, but the thicker ones take longer. If the edges brown a bit, that’s actually delicious.
For extra oomph: yank the pan out at about 12 minutes, brush over your reserved glaze, and pop it back in under the broiler for 2-3 min (but watch closely—this is where I tend to walk away and, suddenly: charred).
Top with herbs if you remembered them. Let it sit for a minute, ’cause the glaze is molten and will definitely stick to your fingers (ouch).

Things I’ve Learned the Hard Way

Don’t substitute all the preserves for fresh peaches. Tried it once—just too watery, not sticky enough (tasted alright, though).
If you totally forget to pat the salmon dry, it won’t get that nice little caramelized edge—lesson learned, as they say.
Tried tossing in some rosemary once. Not the vibe, really. Thyme? Lovely. Rosemary? Save it for potatoes.

How I’ve Tweaked It (Or, Wild Experiments From My Kitchen)

I’ve subbed maple syrup for bourbon in a pinch. Sweeter, less bite. Pretty good, actually.
Smoked paprika mixed into the glaze—adds a whole smoky BBQ feel. My husband liked it. My daughter didn’t notice.
Once tried it with trout instead of salmon. Worked alright, but… salmon just stands up better to the boldness, y’know?
Random idea: served leftovers in a rice bowl with cucumber and sriracha. Game changer. Cold, straight form the fridge. Don’t knock it till you try it.

Don’t Worry If You Don’t Have All the Kitchen Gear

I always say you need a rimmed baking sheet, but once I made this in a cast iron skillet (too lazy to grab foil) and it worked just fine. Even used a glass 9×13 a couple times—cleans up easy but takes a smidge longer to cook for some reason. And if you’re short a whisk? A fork works. I mean, who has time to search cabinets for kitchen gadgets you’ve used twice anyway?

What To Do With Leftovers (If You Ever Actually Have Them)

I keep extra salmon in an airtight container in the fridge. It’s good for 2 days, but to be honest, the whole thing is usually gone before breakfast (someone in this house, not naming names, has been known to sneak a piece cold). Freezes alright, though I think it dries out a bit—still fine for tossing on a salad or something.

How I Serve It Up, Most Nights

This is amazing with garlicky green beans or a big, messy salad (sometimes I just slice up whatever’s hanging around). My Mom always insists on rice, because she likes to mop up the glaze—sometimes I go for crusty bread instead, if I’m feeling European. Oh, and a little extra bourbon on the side, if nobody’s judging. Here’s a fun resource on side dishes for salmon that’s saved my skin a few times.

Lessons From My (Occasionally) Chaotic Kitchen

Don’t try rushing the roasting time. I cranked up the oven once to save 5 minutes—it went from glazed to, well, blackened in no time. The glaze needs its time to bubble and caramelize, otherwise you just get watery sauce (sad).
Actually, I find it works better if you give the salmon a little rest off heat before serving. Let’s the glaze settle down; avoids burning tongues. Trust me ouch.

Questions Folks Have Asked Me (And My Real Answers)

Can I make this without bourbon? Sure thing! Just swap for apple juice, or skip it entirely (though you lose a little of that warming kick).

What if I only have frozen salmon? That’s fine—just thaw completely first and pat dry, or else the glaze sort of slides off for some reason.

Does it taste super boozy? Not really, especially after baking—the alcohol cooks off, but the flavor sticks around (in a good way, promise).

Any recommended sides? Besides the green beans and rice, roasted sweet potatoes work nice; or go rogue with a kale salad. Check out Simply Recipes’ salmon ideas if you’re stuck. Oh, and someone once asked me if they could grill it. Technically yes, but the glaze burns fast, so be careful!

Do I need to peel the salmon? Nope! I don’t. The skin kind of crisps up, and you can just slide it off once it’s cooked if you’re not a fan. Or feed it to the dog (ask me how I know this one…)

(Pausing here, unrelated, but last time I made this I got distracted hunting for a peeler in a drawer and forgot the glaze, so we had plain salmon and fruit salad. The kids ate it. That felt like a strange victory!)

So that’s the long, winding story. If you try this Bourbon Peach Roasted Salmon, let me know how it turns out. Or just tell me about your favorite jar-of-something-in-the-fridge dinner—those are my bread and butter, so to speak.