Tuna is a funny word. So is confit. Especially if you say it with a bad french accent like I do. I messed this one up because my oil was too hot and I cooked the tuna too long but it still was the best tuna salad sandwich I've ever had. Although, my standards for weeknight tuna might be lower than yours. For example:
1. My favorite tuna casserole consists of Kraft Mac & Cheese, canned tuna in water, and crushed Nacho Cheese Doritos. (It's a salt lick and no I'm not kidding.)
2. For our first dinner together at Pete's apartment low those many years ago, he made me tuna helper. In the microwave. (And I still married him.)
We should probably stop there and get back to the confit.
One of the things about this book that appealed to me is that it's making us take our time with some things we usually wouldn't. Things like when to put the salt in our pasta water, choosing to slow roast fish that can be cooked at high temperatures in minutes, making our own pie crust, and all of you sourdough starter people (which Ina has declared is over so honestly, I need you to keep up). And confit. Because instead of ripping open a pack of perfectly (ahem) acceptable tuna (for items 1 and 2 above), this is all a bit extra. (Warning: pandemic fatigue ahead).
So this is how this tuna confit goes:
1. After reading the bit about the best tomato sauce at Chez Panisse and rancid olive oil, head over to your favorite fancy grocery store's olive oil aisle and actually read the labels. Find one that says things like 'herbal' and 'fruity'. I bought this one.
2. Buy the best ahi tuna you can afford. Think about all the times you ordered the seared tuna steaks at really good steak houses. Stand firm by your past life choices.
3. Slice the tuna. Think about spicy tuna rolls from Whole Foods and how it's the best grocery store sushi. Do not think about that tape worm guy because you do not eat that much tuna.
4. Dump all that fancy olive oil in a pot, add the candy thermometer and, well, confit. A fish spatula comes in handy here. I know. I resisted for years too. Don't be like me. Order steaks at steakhouses. Buy a fish spatula.
5. Pay attention the the oil temperature. If it's too hot, take the fish out sooner and be patient. Wait. Think about timing. Let the damned oil cool a bit. The thermometer is your friend.
Then. Buy the best baguette you can find. Get some shallots. Some leafy greens. Some vinegar. A little mayo (but don't think about it because mayo is gross). Some dill. Salt. Pepper. Celery. Mix it. Shove it in the baguette. Ignore your husband when he claims to only like tuna that comes out of a can. Give him half your sandwich. I promise, he'll like it. I could have made something way fancier with this tuna. But every last bit of it when into that tuna sandwich.
When he asks you for another sandwich the next day, don't gloat. Just make him a sandwich. Because the best tasting sandwich is one that somebody else made for you.
One more thing before you go. I meant to tell you about this sandwich 2 weeks ago. But we've had a bit of a time over here. Pete's mom lost her husband. And then early this morning, we lost Pete's dad. We're finding our way and sorting through the small things so we can get to the big things of what happens next with a lot of things. Thanks to all of you who have helped us share our news and are holding us in your hearts. We love you so and look forward to seeing you all.
Meanwhile. Patty is up next. She's going to make some bittersweet chocolate pudding. I'm hoping she brings some to us. Because pudding is delicious.
With love and hope,
c. (and pete, harry, suzy, and reggie the orphaned dog.)
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