Re-imagining the tuna casserole—and a bit of fiction

 

As you know if you read “Judy’s Stew” online, I’m taking a course on the culinary cozy mystery. Today’s assignment was to take one dish and describe it in terms of all five senses. It’s been along time since I shared my tuna casserole recipe—don’t groan, please—so I decided to focus on it. I thought for fun in this blog, I’d repeat that scene from Irene Keeps a Secret, the as yet unwritten third entry in my Irene in Chicago Culinary Mysteries series. The recipe is also attached. Henny is preparing to fix tuna casserole for one segment of her TV show, “Recipes from My Mom’s Kitchen.”

As I unpacked the groceries I’d brought and slipped the pre-made casserole in the oven, Bob, the station manager, walked by. “Hey, Henny, watcha cooking today?”

“Tuna casserole,” I replied, my back to him as I worked. I knew what was coming next and mentally got ready for his objection. Bob’s idea of comfort food was probably a Big Mac.

“Tuna casserole!” He exploded. “Henny, we all had to eat enough of that as kids. Nobody eats it anymore. I told you, now that we’re national, you gotta ramp up your act.”

“I’m doing retro recipes, remember? Last week I even did a jellied salad—well, okay it was gazpacho—but it got raves. And national bought the show with the title, ‘Recipes from My Mom’s Kitchen.’ This is from my mom’s kitchen.”

He shrugged and walked on, but not before he muttered something about not blaming him if my ratings tanked.

I turned back to my groceries—a can of tuna, a can of mushroom soup, a pre-measured cup of wine, a small baggie with assorted herbs, some chopped celery and green onions. The pre-cooked noodles bothered me some. I hoped they wouldn’t clump when I tried to use them.

As I worked, memory took me back to Texas. On chilly nights, Dad lit a fire in the fireplace, and we ate dinner camped around it, sitting on the floor or a footstool or whatever was handy. I could almost see the flames and feel their warmth, hear them crackle, smell the piñon wood Dad insisted on. Tuna casserole was a family favorite for those Sunday night suppers by the fire, and as I stood there in that dingy TV studio I thought about Mom’s casserole—the crispness of the fried-onion topping against the creaminess of the noodles and tuna, with an occasional pop when you came to a green pea or the crunch of a bite of celery. I was suddenly hungry, and as I picked up the tuna and soup cans to open, I only hoped my casserole would taste as good as Mom’s. Patrick would be the taste tester tonight at supper, but, alas, no cheering fire.

Tuna casserole re-imagined

1 c. white wine

Assorted dried herbs—thyme, parsley, oregano, summer savory, tarragon, etc. (avoid Mexican spices like cumin); just throw the spices into the wine

1 small onion, chopped

½ c. celery, diced

2 Tbsp. butter

1 can cream of mushroom soup

1 7½-oz. can water-packed tuna, drained

1 c. carb filler of choice, cooked noodles or rice

½ c. green peas

1 small can French’s fried onion rings

Boil wine with herbs until the herbs turn black (about five minutes). Remove from heat. Meanwhile sauté onion and celery in butter. Add this to wine, along with soup. Add tuna, drained, or 1 cup diced chicken or turkey, the carb filler, and green peas for color. If there’s not enough liquid for your solid ingredients, add more wine. You can also vary the amount of meat and noodles or rice to suit your taste. Put into casserole dish and top with canned fried onion rings. A shallow dish means more of the casserole gets fried onion topping. Bake at 350° until bubbly and onions are brown.

Irene in Danger, second in the series, is now available from Amazon in paperback of Kindle editions: Irene in Danger: An Irene in Chicago Culinary Mystery - Kindle edition by Alter, Judy. Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.