NEW YORK – When I first proposed Guys’ Night to our sons, Oscar and Julius, it wasn’t our first rodeo. We had spent plenty of nights alone together. Formalising the ritual was my attempt to awaken the sense of opportunity presented by a family meal minus mum that went beyond the established pillars of pizza and screen time.

The boys are enthusiastic, if idiosyncratic, eaters.

Served food he doesn’t immediately recognise, Julius, eight, typically responds by sitting upside down in his chair or staring at his plate as if it were a scar-faced man with a hook for a hand. Oscar, 10, is a principled pescatarian who can be persuaded to make exceptions to his diet for meatballs, chicken wings, xiaolongbao, andouille gumbo, Texas barbecue and veal.

Selecting the dish to initiate our tradition was not a trivial matter. I wanted it to be anchored by an ingredient that speaks to where we live, in south-eastern Louisiana, but doesn’t conform to stereotypes about what guys like us are supposed to eat.

Swordfish checked a lot of boxes. It’s new to the boys, with a name that appeals to their fascination with brutal combat. It was also what was available, fresh from the Gulf, at our favourite fishmonger in March.

“So, what are we going to do with this thing?” Julius asked, staring at the unwrapped swordfish steak. The plan was to come up with a recipe on the fly, with ingredients we normally have on hand.

Our first thought: tomatoes. Why? Nathalie, my wife, doesn’t like them. Her not being around to exercise a veto meant we could use cherry tomatoes, which we always have for the boys’ school lunches.

I gave Oscar the task of halving the tomatoes and a cup of olives. The boys have loved olives since I informed them, in their pre-verbal years, that they could sleep outside if they didn’t. I had in mind a hearty sauce with the girth of a side dish that drew on elements of puttanesca, cioppino and Louisiana-style court bouillon.

Julius helped sear the swordfish and stir the sauce we built in the same p...