The lazy, lazy days—of November?

 

Those lazy, hazy days belong to summer. It’s November, and we’re all supposed to be busy with work and school and elections and holiday preparations—and even keeping dry and warm. But I have had two delicious, lazy days in a row, and I relished them.

Yesterday I woke up with the sure sense that if I didn’t do a thing, nothing in the world would stop or crash and crater, not even anything in my own small world. It was a hazy, rainy day—a slow, gentle rain, the kind of day to inspire laziness. There was not a thing on my calendar. My family was to be gone for supper. I had hard-boiled eggs for quick egg salad for lunch and the gift of split pea soup for supper, from a friend who knows how I love it. Sure, I had a Gourmet on the Hot Plate blog to write and another scene in my Irene book I wanted to get done, but really, what bad thing would happen if I didn’t do those things.

(That reminds me of a story—when Colin, my oldest, was about three, he said, “Ann says if you don’t eat breakfast, something bad will happen. What?” Ann was a friend who lived with us for a while. I absolutely had no answer for his question.)

Today was not quite so lazy, but close. We got to talking the other night about pot roast, specifically one I’ve done for years with cream of mushroom soup, red wine, and dry onion soup. (I am not one of those cooks who gets self-righteous about not cooking with prepared soups—I love them in lots of recipes!) Jordan said she was hungry for it, Mary offered to shop for the roast, and I found myself committed to making it for Friday night supper. Just to check the cooking time, I looked up a recipe and found some changes. Besides, I’m not sure I had ever done a pot roast in my tiny kitchen. Not a problem, I thought.

Turns out the problem, like so many, was not in the actual doing but in the anticipation. Sophie woke me from a sound sleep a bit after two in the morning. By the time I got her out and in and went back to bed, I couldn’t sleep. I swear I cooked that pot roast twenty times in my head. And I kept worrying about being tired because I hadn’t slept—surely a familiar worry to many of us. (My mom used to reassure me that I had really slept and didn’t realize it, and to this day I tend to believe Mom.) I even got up earlier than usual to get the darn thing cooking.

I browned the meat in a heavy pan first, and there began my problems. A three-pound chuck roast can be pretty unwieldy when you’ve lost strength in your arms (torn rotator cuffs) and hands (age). Besides between my seated walker and the hot plate on the counter, the angle is awkward. I splashed grease all over myself just getting it into the pan. Fortunately, I had the bright idea to move the pan to my work surface to transfer the meat to a plate, add the veggies and sauce and herbs, and put the meat on top. But between fighting with the meat and chopping the vegetables, it took me well over an hour to get the silly thing cooking on the hot plate.

Problem: the hot plate cooks for an hour and then turns off automatically—a safety measure, I know, to ensure you don’t walk away and forget it. So, every hour I heard it beep, got up, turned it back on, and reset the cooking temperature. Even during my nap—Mom’s theory again: I would tell you I didn’t sleep but I sure dozed. I put the roast on at ten; at five, it was not done. But by seven, it was fork tender and delicious. My favorite part? The carrots. Do not talk to me about InstaPots. My good friend Mary is always telling me how easy it would be to do in an InstaPot, but I like the old-fashioned long cooking, and I have time to do it.

But once the roast was cooking, my day was free. It was another drizzly, dark day, which didn’t make me feel ambitious. I read emails, explored social media, wrote about 500 words—and napped of course.

Jordan’s friend, Chandry, came for happy hour, stayed for pot roast supper, and we had a delightful time. Chandry and her husband have become very active in University Christian Church, so we had a lot of church talk, family talk, food talk. And bonus: everyone loved the pot roast.

So now, it’s late, and Sophie and I are getting ready to wrap up the day. Tomorrow brings light cooking—Jean is coming for supper, and I had promised her salmon but have changed the menu. Hope she doesn’t mind. And maybe Colin will help me figure out why I still can’t get on to the Central Market website. I have solved a couple of smaller computer problems myself (makes me so proud!) and Christian solved an annoying one for me tonight.

I’m ready for some sunshine tomorrow. How about you? Chandry reported that her husband is hunting in West Texas and it’s snowing. He loves it. I’m glad it’s in West Texas and not Fort Worth.

My favorite new discovery

 

My coaster turned dipping dish.

What’s your favorite part of a good meal at a fine Italian restaurant? If it’s not the tiramisu, mine may be the seasoned olive oil for dipping those crusty bread slices. And now I’ve discovered how to do that at home.

It should be no surprise that one day I was browsing Central Market’s web site looking for an appetizer. A new guest was coming to the cottage for happy hour, along with a good friend who I know needs carbs on a strict schedule. What to fix that would provide carbs and be a little bit showy, just a tad sophisticated? I came across a jar of dipping spices—you know, the small bottle most spices come in. And right next to it were dipping dishes—small, white, round. Eureka! I’d order that and a sliced baguette.

But when my order was delivered (by grandson Jacob) they had removed the dishes and listed the spices as out of stock—they still show on the site. This was the day before the happy hour, and I was fixated on serving that. I decided to go online for a recipe—found one that looked interesting. And realized that those pretty blue and white coasters I keep on the coffee table would be perfect dipping dishes. It was a hit, and I’ve served it twice more to raves—even had to make a second batch. Who knows? Tiny jars (it goes a long way) may make great Christmas gifts. It does store well and doesn’t necessarily have to be refrigerated.

Dipping spices

(Note that these are all dried flakes of spices; you do not want moisture to get into the mix.)

1 tsp. garlic powder

1 Tbsp. oregano

1 Tbsp. basil

1 Tbsp. parsley

2 tsp. onion powder

2 tsp. freshly cracked black pepper

½ tsp. red pepper flakes

1-1/2 tsp. kosher salt

1 tsp. thyme

½ tsp. rosemary

           Most of us have these spices in our cupboard, refrigerator, or freezer. The great thing about this recipe is that if you’re missing one or two ingredients, no one will ever know. It is what I call a forgiving recipe.

To serve, pour olive oil into a small pitcher. Put a basket of baguette slices on the table, and a small jar of the spices. If you want, you can also offer a small dish of grated Parmesan or Pecorino. If you have tiny serving spoons, like demitasse or espresso spoons, they are perfect for serving. Each guest can experiment to determine their favored spice to oil ratio and whether or not they want cheese (the cheese does tend to thicken the dip.)

Warning: I served this one night recently and ate so much I couldn’t even finish my salad for supper. And no, you don’t have to have an Italian entrée with this.

Another warning: Christian says not to put any unused dip with spices in it down the sink or disposal. Throw them in the trash.

Buon appetito!

*Recipe adapted from rachelcooks.com

Updating a couple of old favorite side dishes

 

Not my image
No chickpeas in my bean salad
I'm not particularly taken with chickpeas

Everyone has dishes they do they way they’ve been doing them for years, right? I mean it’s always been good enough. Except in prowling the net for recipes, which I do a lot, I found two updates that I’m loving.

For years my family has loved a salad we called marinated vegetables. Can’t even remember where I got the idea, but I would dump vegetables into a Dutch oven (not because I was going to cook but because it was the right size)—cut canned green beans, artichoke heart quarters, sliced sweet or red onion, drained and rinsed pinto or kidney beans, broccoli and cauliflower flowerets (some it was good to parboil or steam them just a bit). You could add sliced bell peppers—I just happen to really not like them. Originally I remember directions called for head lettuce and avocado but those don’t hold up well after the first serving. To dress it? Just bathe with your favorite bottled dressing, usually some version of Italian. In recent years, we’ve preferred Paul Newman’s Own Oil and Vinegar. This is great for feeding a crowd.

But sometimes you don’t want that huge salad that lasts a week in the fridge. And three-bean salad is perfect for family meals. If I knew how to do that marinated vegetable salad, surely I knew how to make three-bean salad. Same method, fewer ingredients. Once or twice I tried canned or deli-prepared bean salad, but it was always too sweet for me. Then I discovered this recipe.

Three bean salad

16 oz. canned, cut beans (if you can find yellow or wax beans, use an 8 oz. can of those and an 8 oz. can green; I’ve had trouble finding the wax beans, and an all-green salad is just fine)

1 15-oz. can red beans, drained and rinsed (I prefer the small red to the larger kidney beans)

1 small, red or sweet onion, thinly sliced

For the dressing:

¼ cup cider vinegar

3 Tbsp olive oil

1 Tbsp. honey

1 garlic clove, pressed or micro planed

Pepper to taste

Since I disliked the sweet bean salads I’ve tasted, I had real reservations about that tablespoon of honey, but it somehow accentuates the flavor and yet you don’t actually taste honey.

Serve chilled; keeps well in the refrigerator.

British methods of baking potatoes

Another thing everybody knows to how to do is bake potatoes, though there’s always the controversy about wrapping them in foil or oiling them or just sticking them in the oven at 350 for an hour and testing to be sure they’re soft inside. It only takes one potato exploding in the oven to teach a new cook to poke holes in the skin before baking.

I’ve been baking potatoes for decades, obviously, and saw no need to change my ways—until I read about the British method. Scrub potatoes thoroughly but instead of poking holes, cut a good-sized cross in the top of each. Bake at 400^o for two hours—that’s right, two hours! My toaster oven seems to run a little hot, so I did them at 375.

Remove from oven and as soon as you can handle them, with an oven mitt, cut each potato open lengthwise. Use a fork to get inside and fluff the meat. This is a bit difficult because you’re dodging a hot potato, but it’s worth it. Then put the potatoes back in that hot oven for another ten minutes. Makes the fluffiest potatoes ever with skin so crisp you’ll eat every bite.

And a word about oven roasted potatoes

Maybe it was the long cooking of the British method, but I’ve been inspired to cook potatoes a bit longer lately. The other night I roasted a pork tenderloin in the oven—it only takes 30 minutes, so if I wanted to scatter potatoes around it, I’d have o cut them fairly small to ensure they cooked through. I cut small red potatoes into fourths—pieces not much bigger than your thumbnail. Tossed them with generous salt and pepper and some olive oil and scattered them around the pork. Once again, crisp, salty skins and really soft insides. Jordan said I wasn’t cooking enough, and I said, “Oh, nobody eats that much potato.” I was so wrong. Wished I’d cooked more.

Holiday entertaining on my mind …

 

Holidays to me mean lots of grazing food – cheeseballs and dips and spreads for all those buffets and happy hours you’re going to host. For years (probably almost fifty), I hosted some version of an annual tree trimming party. When I was a kid, my dad and brother put lights on the tree and walked away; Mom and I were left to decorate. It was not the jolly family shared experience Norman Rockwall would have us all envision. So I swore when I had my own home, tree the trimming would be festive and happy.

Most years I had anywhere from fifty to seventy guests. The price of admission was always the same: bring an ornament and hang it on the tree. As a result, I have a huge collection of unique ornaments, now stored in the attic, because I have only a small, tabletop fake tree. But I can still tell you the story behind many of my ornaments.

My dining table was extended and full of everything from pate and a caviar dip to bourbon-soaked cocktail sausages and cheeseball. The buffet on the side held cookies, a chocolate Bundt cake, and Aunt Reva’s sheet cake. I began cooking at least by early November, and the freezer was stocked. Some of the things I served are now considered passé, cheeseballs and dips among them, but my family and I still love them. Here are three I frequently served.

Caesar dip

If you love Caesar salad, as I do, this is the dip for you. It’s like eating the dressing.

1 cup mayonnaise

½ cup sour cream

½ cup grated fresh Parmesan

1 Tbsp. lemon juice

1 garlic clove, pressed or grated

1 anchovy filet or 1 tsp. anchovy paste

           Caesar salad was originally finger food—you dipped the base of a leaf of romaine in the dressing. I have had it served that way in restaurants, and at Fort Worth’s Pacific Table where the Caesar salad has uncut leaves, I eat it that way. So a great dipper for this would be small leaves from the hearts of a couple of heads of romaine (use the remaining leaves for a green salad). Other crudities would work well too—carrots, broccoli flowers, green pepper strips, cucumber slices. Baguettes slices and crackers are also perfectly acceptable.

Sherry cheese paté

8 oz. cream cheese

1 cup grated sharp cheddar

1 T. dry sherry (cooking sherry if you must)

½ tsp. curry powder

¼ tsp.

¼ salt

1 8 oz. jar chutney, any flavor you want – I am partial to apricot

2 green onions, chopped

Mix cream cheese, cheddar, sherry, curry powder, and salt. Spread on serving plate and chill. Spread the chutney on top of the mixture and scatter green onion bits for decoration. Serve with crackers and a cocktail spreader or knife.

Caviar Spread

This is the dish that people asked for year after year.

2-1/2 8-oz. pkg. cream cheese, softened

1 c. mayonnaise

1 small onion, grated

1 Tbsp. Worcestershire

1 Tbsp. lemon juice

Dash of hot sauce

1 4-oz. jar black caviar

3-4 hard-cooked eggs, finely chopped

Chopped parsley

Mix first seven ingredients with electric mixer until smooth. Spoon into shallow serving dish. Top with caviar, eggs, and parsley. Serve with small pumpernickel breads or party rye if you can find them. Crackers are good too.

You don’t have to wait for Christmas to serve these. They’d be great for that family Thanksgiving get-together.

          

 

 

 

 

 

A couple of old favorites—and a bit of history

 

Cottage pie
Idea and photo courtesy Mary Kleiner Dulle
the recipe is mine.

My dad loved his afternoon tea with milk, which is the British way. The tea had to be loose leaf, steeped in a proper pot, and preferably presented on a silver service. Tea was always accompanied with a small sweet, although I never saw a scone on the tea tray at home. Today, Dad’s tea has become ultra-fashionable: high tea is a late afternoon luxury, most often served in an upscale hotel. The menu, such as it is, usually consists of scones, fruit, dainty finger sandwiches filled with cucumber and cream cheese, smoked salmon, egg salad, chicken salad, pate, etc.—you can use your imagination. The sandwiches are often cut into fancy shapes and must be crustless. And several varieties of tea are offered.

One story is that as fashionable dinners were served later and later in the evening, ladies needed something to tide them over, lest they suffer a fainting spell from hunger. This light meal was just perfect.

But it was not always so. High tea was first served in seventeenth-century England, and it was a hearty meal for the working class when they got off duty. The menu would been hearty, such fare as stew, meat pies, cottage or shepherd’s pie, and Welsh rarebit.

Recently my neighbor Mary Dulle made a cottage pie and posted a picture on Facebook. It looked scrumptious and reminded me that I haven’t it for a long time. It’s one of those dishes, like meatloaf or tuna casserole, that is scorned by food snobs today, but my family and I love it. So I got out the recipe and have put the ingredients on my next shopping list. One note: cottage pie is made with ground beef; shepherd’s pie is the same dish made with ground lamb. Otherwise, there is no difference.

Cottage pie

Ingredients

Mashed potatoes, made of about 1⅓ lbs. red potatoes (you don’t have to skin them first, though some people prefer that.

½ cup shredded sharp cheddar

Milk, cream, or sour cream – as much as needed to make stiff potatoes

1 lb. lean ground beef

2 Tbsp. flour

4 c. frozen mixed vegetables (I prefer corn, green beans, and sweet peas but packaged mixed vegetables with carrots and lima beans work fine)

¾ c. beef broth

2 Tbsp. ketchup

¼ c. shredded sharp cheddar

Heat oven to 375°.

           Cook potatoes. You might add a cut clove of garlic or two to the boiling water to flavor the potatoes. Instead of milk, trying using cream or even sour cream for added richness. Stir half cup cheese in until melted. Set mashed potatoes aside.

Brown meat in nonstick skillet. Stir in flour and cook briefly. Add remaining ingredients and cook, stirring, for five minutes. Spoon into eight-inch square baking dish. Cover with mashed potatoes.

Bake 20 minutes. Sprinkle remaining cheddar over the top and bake another 3-4 minutes, until cheese melts and casserole is bubbly. Serve six, but only if they’re not hearty eaters.  

 

Welsh rarebit

Welsh rarebit (not, it’s not rabbit) is another overlooked dish today. The name “rarebit” comes from the Welsh caws pobi, which literally means rare (barely cooked) and bit (as in a small serving.) This meatless dish may come in small servings, but it is rich in flavor.

Ingredients

1½ cups sharp cheddar cheese, grated

2 Tbsp. beer

1 tsp. dried mustard

Pepper to taste

Melt cheese and beer in saucepan, add pepper and mustard. Most recipes call for serving it over buttered toast and running it under the broiler to brown it. My mom served it on saltine crackers, and I don’t recall that she broiled it. I have also seen a version—called Scotch woodcock, I think—that added tomatoes. It is a light supper, so much so that when I served it on crackers one night and Colin said, “This is dinner?” That was before he ate it. These days, I broil it and serve it on good, thick artisan bread. Great with a good green salad.

Enjoy high tea—one evening for supper.

 

 

Butter boards—a good idea or not?

 

Not my photo
Butter Board (TikTok Recipe) - Sugar and Soul

Six years ago, when I moved into the cottage, Jordan and I entertained almost every evening because people were curious to see my garage-turned-cozy cottage. We put several cheeses and a couple of sliced meats on a board and barely knew to call it charcuterie. Today, these boards may have reached their peak of popularity. They’ve gotten so complicated and elaborate that there are entire books on how to create them and you can take classes in creating spectacular arrangements of meat, cheese, and vegetables, the latter often shaped into rose blooms.

But there’s a new board that cooks and hosts are just beginning to explore: butter boards. I have to confess that good, rich, real butter is one of my favorite foods. To me, the perfect snack is a saltine cracker with a good-sized slice of butter. When they were little my kids used to say, “Have a little cracker with your butter, Mom.” I am convinced butter boards were designed just for me.

Whereas charcuterie boards seem to grow larger until they are often big and sometimes contain a full meal, butter boards are much smaller. It is just what the name implies: softened butter spread thickly on a small board, usually wooden though a plate could be used. A few years ago glass cutting boards were all the rage—I have two small ones and think they would be good for butter board.

What else goes into a butter board? You are only as limited as your imagination. Originally, the board featured herbs and microgreens. Some people added edible flowers. Then chefs and cooks began to branch out, exploring savory additions—garlic, spices, bacon, some of those charcuterie ingredients, like salami or other preserved meat, finely chopped. Want something sweet? Use jam, honey, fruit, nuts, or seeds. To scoop up the butter, offer crackers, baguette slices, even pretzels. I do think a butter knife would be useful to avoid messes.

An alternative to butter is cream cheese. The obvious toppings would be diced smoked salmon, chopped red onion, a bit of tomato, and capers. But cream cheese would make a good base for toppings like bacon, or cucumber and green onions.  Dream big!

The most important aspect of creating your board is the same as in arranging a charcuterie: arrange things in the most appealing manner. I frequently quote my mom: food is half eaten by the eye.

You probably would not serve boards, either with butter or meat and cheese, to large groups. These are dishes for a small group of three or friends gathered around a coffee table. You might be sure beforehand that your guests like butter.

Not all chefs are enthusiastic about the butter board craze. Some fear it’s unsanitary. They claim smearing butter on a porous wooden board means you can’t clean the board thoroughly and leaves too much room for contamination. I routinely prepare food on a wooden butch block surface, cleaning it thoroughly after each use. I’ve had that same table for years with no problems. Another charge is that a butter board is messy. A way around both of those objections is to place parchment paper under the board, perhaps trimming it around the butter for appearance’s sake. I will also protest that those crowded charcuterie boards are messy too, like a buffet with many hands in the food. That’s why I suggest limiting the size of your party. Finally, those not drawn to butter boards say they can imagine hair, dust particles, and other foreign material floating down onto the board. Doesn’t this happen with any food? Even your dinner plate? Granted, a stray hair is more likely to stick to soft butter, but I think some atmospheric contamination is possible every time we eat, unless we lock ourselves in a bubble. I would remind naysayers that large cheese and fruit boards have been standard at big receptions for years.

Butter boards aren’t for everyone. I haven’t yet had the opportunity to try serving one, but it’s on my bucket list. Here are a couple of combinations that I think sound good. Another hint: be sure to use a rich butter, possibly European. I prefer Kerrygold. And be sure your butter is at room temperature. Then when you put it in the board, give it some swirls and curls for eye appeal.

Basic herbal board:

           Spread your board with 1/2 cup unsalted butter. Sprinkle lightly with kosher or sea salt and a tiny bit of black pepper. Decorate with two tsp. lemon zest, three Tbsp. assorted fresh herbs, chopped; drizzle with one Tbsp. honey.  

Dried cranberry board:

           Spread your board with one-half cup butter. Salt it lightly and drizzle a bit of lemon juice over it. Spread evenly over butter: one Tbsp. chopped walnuts, 2 tsp. diced chives, 2 Tbsp. fresh basil; 2 Tbsp. dried cranberries.

Italian board:

Spread butter and season with salt and lemon zest. Chiffonade five or six basil leaves and spread over butter with two Tbsp. finely chopped sun-dried tomatoes, and one-fourth cup Parmesan or Pecorino.

Be the first to wow your friends with this new trend.

Bon Appetit!

 

Gougeres

If you’ve read the Irene in Chicago Culinary Mysteries, you know that Irene Foxglove may be difficult, imperious, unpredictable, and a faux graduate of Le Cordon Bleu, but she is a good cook who decries instant food and believes the French have perfected the culinary arts beyond any other culture. Last week, I offered recipes from the Texas kitchen of Henny James’ mother. After all, Henny’s TV show is “From My Mother’s Kitchen.” But Henny began her career as a gofer on Irene’s TV show which featured many French recipes. So today, I’m sharing a few of Irene’s recipes.

Irene’s Coquille St. Jacques (scallops in a cream sauce)

This company-style dish is traditionally served in a shell-shaped dish with mashed potatoes piped decoratively around the edge. Irene prefers to use individual gratin dishes with a bread crumb topping.

For the scallops:

12 large sea scallops (count 3 scallops per serving)

3 Tbsp. butter

1 shallot, minced

3 Tbsp. white wine

¾ cup crème fraiche

1 Tbsp. minced parsley

Salt and pepper

For the crumb topping:

1 ½ cups crustless white breadcrumbs or panko

¼ cup minced parsley

5 oz. Gruyere, grated

¼ cup olive oil

Directions:

Pat scallops dry with paper towel and refrigerate, uncovered, for one hour to dry them further. Meanwhile, mince the shallot. Melt butter in skillet and sauté shallot.

Add scallops to skillet and cook until they lose their translucence and are white. Do not overcook—it makes them rubbery. Remove from skillet and cover to keep them warm.

Deglaze the skillet with white wine, scraping browned bits off the bottom of the pan. Let wine boil gently until reduced by half. Add crème fraiche. Return scallops to pan just to mix; do not cook further. Spoon scallop mixture into four individual gratin dishes, top with breadcrumb mixture, and bake at 350^o until bubbly hot and crumb mixture is lightly browned.

From Saving Irene

Gougères

Gougères are small appetizers made of a rich dough called choux pastry and cheese, traditionally Comté, Emmentaler, or Gruyère. The ingredients are simple, but making the pastries involves a lot of beating by hand.

6 Tbsp. unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

¾ tsp. salt, preferably kosher

Pinch of nutmeg

1 c. water

1-1/4 c. flour

4 eggs

1-1/2 c. Comté, Emmentaler, or Gruyère cheese, grated

½ tsp. fine black pepper

One egg yolk

           Combine first four ingredients in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Cook, just below a boil, until butter is melted. Stir in the flour. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until mixture forms a ball in the middle of the pan. Dough should not be sticky. Let it cool slightly, because you will be adding eggs but don’t want the dough to cook them before you can stir them in.

Remove pan from the heat and beat the eggs in one at a time, beating vigorously after each egg until it is thoroughly incorporated into the dough. Do not try to hurry the process by adding all four eggs at once. After last egg, stir in cheese and pepper.

Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Irene shapes the dough into one-inch balls by hand, but Henny prefers to use a piping bag with the ½” round tip. You may also cut the corner off a plastic bag and use as a home-made piping bag. Place dough balls 2” apart on baking sheet as they will expand.

Make an egg wash with remaining egg yolk and 1 tsp. water. Brush onto gougères before baking.

Bake at 400^o for 20-25 minutes. When done, they will be golden brown. You can test for doneness by breaking one open: it should be dry on the inside.

Recipe makes about 50 gougères, but people will eat several at a time.

From Irene in Danger

Cold turkey with tonnato sauce

Irene serves this cold dish in her café. She roasts and seasons a turkey breast, slices it medium thin, and lays it out on a platter, smothered with tonnato sauce and decorated with microgreens or chopped parsley or watercress. Tonnato sauce can also be served on chicken, veal, fish, whatever you want. But you must like tuna to relish it, and it will not keep long in the refrigerator. You know—fish and guests grow old after three days.

Tonnato sauce

1 cup mayonnaise

½ cup olive oil

6 oz. can tuna in oil, with the oil

3 anchovy filets

2 Tbsp. lemon juice

3 Tbsp. capers, drained

Put it all in the processor and process until well blended. You might want to halve it; then you can use the rest of the tuna for a salad.

From Finding Florence