Tuna Casserole but Make It Sexy

I don’t remember exactly the turns I took to end up typing “tuna casserole” into my Google search bar, but that’s where I found myself on a recent afternoon. I’d never actually had it. I would consider myself very American, which makes it sort of funny to think about things like stewed tripe, beef tongue, sheep’s cheese, and lamb chops as familiar and tuna casserole as, well, exotic. I think that’s where my curiosity probably comes from.

I’ve thought about the tuna casserole a lot. I brought it up to my friends, polled my followers on their thoughts. I became interested in the sort of mythos that surrounds it. It feels almost emblematic of all that is bad about white American food. One friend who I would consider to have both excellent taste and an open mind said she was scarred by the memory of church potlucks. Another said she hasn’t touched it since she lost her father. Someone brought over a condolence casserole topped with Ritz crackers and marshmallows, insult added to injury that could only be remedied with takeout pizza. But where did everyone go wrong?

The mechanics of the casserole seem to be as follows:

• Noodles (egg or macaroni seem to be common choices)

• Canned tuna

• Creamy sauce (cream of mushroom/chicken, sometimes sour cream, mayonnaise and/or cheese)

• Vegetables (varied, though peas seem common)

• Breadcrumbs, sometimes

My thesis is that fundamentally, this isn’t a bad formula. A few improvements could make this the cozy, nourishing dish it was always meant to be. For starters, there are better noodles. Ones that will hold up better to baking and cling to sauce more readily. Another important consideration is that not all packed tuna is created equal. There is the kind that’s wet like cat food and formed into a flaky disk, and there is the kind that would fall under the category of Spanish conservas, packed in olive oil and good enough to eat on it’s own. In terms of sauce, anything canned will inevitably taste like it came out of a can, and things like mayonnaise or too much cheese will leech oil during the bake. Thankfully, a velvety béchamel is the easy answer and a common component of many baked pastas already. For vegetables, what if instead of a mushy bit of carrot or a misplaced bell pepper they were sweet, snappy and crisp? And my answer to breadcrumbs is, of course, why not?

The result is still tuna casserole, but actually quite good. Even more surprising, it’s equally delightful as leftovers. I ate it for 2 more days, and the firm texture of the tuna held up to reheating just fine. It didn’t dry out. The sauce didn’t split and turn greasy as it so often tends to do with left over pasta. It was a perfect packed lunch. And if you ask me? That’s the sign of a damn good casserole.

Serves: 4-6

Active time: 1 hour

Difficulty: Easy

Read more