The great tuna casserole dinner

 

Gary's tuna casserole

Over a year ago the subject of tuna casserole came up, I guess in my blog and probably because I mentioned I love it and none of the rest of my local family will eat it. (Jacob loved tuna salad as a toddler but won’t touch it now, Christian won’t touch tuna at all, and Jordan does not want it cooked—go figure). Christian’s college classmate from Dallas, Gary, jumped on it, said he loves tuna casserole, and when could he come for supper. Of course, covid dictated the answer to that—we were all quarantining, entertaining on the patio if at all, and certainly not serving food.

But last night was the night. We are all vaccinated, Gary just had his second vaccination, and I made tuna casserole. As he said, it was a meal a year in the planning. I did suffer some performance anxiety because we had talked about it so much: what if it didn’t turn out like his mother’s?

And I ran into one real problem: I was going to make it with cream of mushroom soup rather than trying for my own white sauce, because I wanted the authentic Sixties feel. But when I opened the can of soup and dumped it on the tuna, it was the consistency of chicken broth, not jellied at all as canned cream soups are. The can made me suspicious because it was not a pop-top but an “old-fashioned” one requiring a can opener. I checked the date: 2022. The only other possible explanation was that it was low sodium (bought by mistake by my resident grocery shopper). I debated, Jordan came out and looked at it, and ultimately, I threw out the soup and the wasted can of tuna. New problem: we did not have any more cream of mushroom soup, and Jordan really did not want to go to the store. I used cream of chicken, and we couldn’t tell the difference.

I think it was good. Maybe a bit drier than it should have been, but good. Gary said he liked it. I liked it. Amye, who joined us, liked it.

Gary spent the night, and he and Christian thought they were in college again and stayed up until the wee hours catching up with each other. This meant everyone slept late, and breakfast became a late brunch. But Gary was treated to the best of our cooking—leftover spanakopita, fruit salad, sausage patties, scrambled eggs, and hot cross buns I’d bought from Central Market. I suppose he thinks we eat that way all the time. As he left, I promised him the next meal he wants: chicken divan.

I did post the ugly picture of my spanakopita on the New York Times Cooking Community Facebook page (no, it hasn’t disappeared yet) and so far have over 150 responses, most of them raves about how delicious it looks. One cook suggested serving it topped with an easy-over egg. And I responded to a query about what everyone is cooking for Easter dinner—my matzoh crack got some comments and requests for a recipe. It is on the agenda for tomorrow, along with a Russian salad for which I cooked the ingredients today. Now I have to chop carrots, potatoes, ham, hard-boiled eggs, cornichons, and add peas. Dressing is simply a mix of cornichon brine and mayo. Another experiment.

I cannot rid myself of the notion that today is Saturday. I am all ready to go to church in the morning. The weather forecast for not only Easter but all week is almost too summer-like for early April—mid-eighties all week. I remember Easter in Chicago when I was a kid—we never knew what the weather would be, but cold and wet was a good bet. I’d get lovely frilly dresses and have to cover them with my old winter coat which by then was ratty and tired. But my memory is that we hunted eggs outside, no matter the weather. I’m a bit sad that all my grandchildren are too old and sophisticated (the youngest is fourteen) now to hunt for eggs.

Tonight I pray for the families of the capitol police officer killed today and that of the attacker whose people also must be devastated. Too much crazy has been unleashed in our society, and I’m not sure our government has a firm idea how to deal with it. Some days I’m so hopeful about the way things are going….and some days I despair. Today, with the attack at the capitol, the shooting in California, the Texas voter suppression law, I’m afraid despair is uppermost. But as my faith reminds me, the dark (which is today, Good Friday) must come before the light and joy of Easter.