Tuna

Here’s another of my delicious discoveries at Le Lampare, in Trani. Farro is again paired with seafood, the simply cooked grain tossed and dressed, like pasta, with a lively sauce of cured tuna, tomatoes, and capers. We can’t match the tuna used at Le Lampare—theirs was expertly house-cured from the flavorful and expensive ventresca (belly flap) of the fish—but with this recipe you can make a version that is truly delicious in its own right, using good-quality Italian canned tuna (packed in olive oil, of course). It is a great summer dish, as a main course or an appetizer.

Of the treasures taken from the sea that surrounds Sicily, tuna is among the most prized. Sicilian cooks prepare tuna with care and respect, which usually means simply, as exemplified by these grilled tuna steaks. Aromatic wild oregano is found all over Sicily, and bouquets of the dried herb hang in almost every Sicilian home. When the tuna steaks come off the grill, they get a drizzle of virgin olive oil and a shake of the oregano bouquet—simply perfect.

Antipasti are, for me, the best part of a Piedmontese meal. At any family gathering (and in restaurants as well), the platters of different antipasti just never stop coming. And at some point in the procession, roasted peppers stuffed with tuna will arrive at the table. The combination of sweet, meaty peppers and well-seasoned oil-cured tuna is always delightful. In Piemonte, cooks are discriminating about the peppers they roast, and most sought are those from Carmagnola, a town in the countryside south of Torino. Carmagnola peppers are justly famous, for wonderful flavor as well as their vivid colors and distinctive shapes, like the corno di bue (ox horn) and trottola (spinning top). Carmagnola also is well known for il coniglio grigio di Carmagnola—the gray rabbit from Carmagnola—considered to be one of the best in Italy. Here in the States, any fresh, meaty sweet bell-type peppers are suitable—different colors make a nice presentation. And peppers are always best roasted and peeled at home, though a jar of roasted red peppers can be substituted if you are short on time. (If you have no peppers at all, this tuna filling is delicious on crostini or crackers—it makes a world-class tuna-fish sandwich too.)

This dish’s vibrant, savory sauce is my version of muhamarra, a mildly spicy and slightly fruity Turkish red pepper condiment. It is easy to prepare and goes great with just about any grilled meat or fish (or with thick slices of grilled eggplant). Pole-caught yellowfin tuna is a good sustainable choice; its meaty texture and flavor stand up well to the thick pesto-like puree. Swordfish would be a good alternative, cooked the same way as the tuna. A green vegetable, baked or grilled eggplant, or rice pilaf would make a great side dish.

The fragrant, filling, dripping-with-oil muffuletta is New Orleans’s beloved version of a hero or hoagie. The sandwich originated at Central Grocery in 1906, and people still line up out the door to buy them there. In a traditional muffuletta, a sesame seed-speckled round loaf of crusty Italian bread is stuffed with slices of provolone, salami, mortadella, and a pungent olive salad (which ranks alongside hot sauce and beignet mix as the best souvenirs from the Quarter). A muffuletta is a cousin to one of the great street foods of Nice, the niçoise-salad-on-a-roll known as pan bagnat. The sandwich, which literally translates as “bathed bread,” is so named because the crusty bread is “bathed” in the rich oils from olives and tuna. With this preparation in mind, I created a tuna-driven version of the classic New Orleans sandwich. I think it’s a happy combination.

Fusion cuisine gets scoffed at a lot, but it can work beautifully, as this dish, with its Latin and Asian influences, attests. From the marriage of avocado, cucumber, limes, chiles, garlic, and cilantro (known as coriander everywhere else but the Americas), Peppered Tuna with Asian Guacamole was born. The cucumber lightens up the avocado and adds a bit of crunch. Hoisin Dipping Sauce rounds out the peppery warmth with sweet spiciness. Serve four plates as a first course, or top Sesame Wonton Crisps (p. 89) with a slice of the tuna and a dollop of the guacamole and serve on a platter to make an elegant party snack.

This recipe was inspired by a grilled tuna steak that I ordered at a sleepy roadside restaurant in Vietnam. Working tableside on a small charcoal brazier, the young waiter cooked a half-inch-thick tuna steak with care and patience. Back in my home kitchen, I decided to adapt the recipe to the stove top. I find that pan searing allows greater control than grilling over the doneness of the lean, meaty steaks, yielding juicier results. There are no tricks here. The tuna steaks are coated with the same seasonings used for Grilled Shrimp and Squid (page 111), and the gingery dipping sauce offers a good contrast to the richness of the fish. Serve with Chicken Dumpling and Chrysanthemum Leaf Soup (page 61), boiled gailan (Chinese broccoli) or regular broccoli (which are both good with the dipping sauce), and rice.

At first glance this appears to be a steak tartare presented just as you would find it in any French bistro. Small mounds of finely chopped egg whites, their creamy yellow yolks, sharp red onion, and salty capers surround a carefully shaped ring of chopped red meat, all ready to be mixed and scooped up with crisp rounds of toast. But instead of minced steak, the star of this tartare is fresh tuna. Smoky chipotle puree and pungent Dijon mustard are blended with smooth olive oil so that they can coat each dice of tuna with flavor. Fresh green onions and delicate shallots contribute a soft onion flavor to the tartare, while the briny capers and fresh parsley add brightness. Delicious as is, the deceptive garnishes are what make this a playful American dish.

The best cocktail conversations are light, easy, and entertaining—and cocktail party food ought to follow suit. Inspired by an appetizer I enjoyed at New York City’s BLT Steak, I tossed cubes of raw tuna with avocado, citrus juice, wasabi paste, and a touch of sesame oil and served the mix in ceramic spoons instead of on a plate. As simple to prepare as it is to eat, each Tuna Spoon contains just a mouthful—custom-made to enjoy with cocktails.

I first tasted Ralph Watterson’s Six Rivers Tuna last year when he and his group of bicycling buddies passed through Frederickburgs on a four-day cycling trip. His tuna provides hearty lunches for the group as they cover 300 miles and cross six rivers on their annual spring cycling trip. I asked for the recipe, which he described as his mother’s version, plus a few embellishments of his own. I made it, tried it out at the bakery, and our tuna sandwich sales skyrocketed. Ralph’s Six Rivers Tuna is now a part of our regular menu. Given its proven track record as a recipe that travels, I figured it would be great for an outdoor picnic or a potluck. On bike trips, Ralph says he often serves it with crackers. I wanted something more substantial and created a soft, honey-kissed roll that when split and filled with tuna makes a memorable and satisfying sandwich that travels with ease.

My friend Domenica Marchetti knows her pasta. She’s the author of several fantastic books on Italian cooking, but the latest, The Glorious Pastas of Italy, is probably the closest to her heart, so I had to ask her what kind of dish this mother and wife might make for herself on a night she’s alone. She picked something that she grew up with, that her family made just once a year as part of the traditional Italian “feast of the seven fishes” on Christmas Eve. It dawned on her that she didn’t need to wait for the holidays to make it, and now, neither do I. It’s right up my alley. In fact, the day she sent me the recipe, I looked in my fridge and pantry to confirm I had every single ingredient on hand. I couldn’t help but smile; dinner was sealed, deliciously.

This is not the tuna sandwich of your childhood, but it hits all the right notes: richness from the oily tuna, starchy goodness from the chickpeas, bitterness from the arugula, a little tang from the artichoke hearts, and a hell of a tang from the Herbed Lemon Confit (page 4). If you don’t have some of the latter in your refrigerator, store-bought preserved lemon slices will do.

If you think this sounds something like a reconstructed salade Niçoise on bread, well, you’d be right, but the truth is, I got the idea in Italy, not France. On my first trip there, in Venice, I quickly became addicted to eating while standing up at one of the city’s many bars. Besides melanzana (eggplant) pizza, my favorite dish was a sandwich that seemed the ultimate in decadence, because it consisted of potato salad on one side and tuna salad on the other. When I started making it for myself, it seemed only natural to combine both salads into one, and then to throw a hard-cooked egg in there (who doesn’t like egg salad, after all?), along with a couple of olives for briny tartness.

When a dish is called Niçoise (French for “as prepared in Nice”), it’s a safe bet that it contains tomatoes, tuna, green beans, and black olives. Though you could use jarred roasted peppers, the salad is best if you roast your own. And use the best-quality canned tuna that you can get—it makes a huge difference. Start this signature salad at least one hour in advance, so you can have eleven-minute boiled eggs ready and chilled. Ditto with the beans—they should be chilled after blanching. You may use either fresh green beans or the skinny French haricots verts in this recipe. All told, this is a beautiful salad, especially when the ingredients are cut carefully and arranged in groups. This dressing, good on greens of all kinds, will keep well, tightly covered, in the refrigerator for up to a week.

This dish can be served as a sandwich filling or as a stand-alone salad accompanied by favorite lettuces and veggies. We use canned tuna packed in spring water because it’s lighter than tuna packed in oil, and we make sure the apple is tart and crisp. Granny Smith apples are fine, but also Mutsu, Honeycrisp, or any good local crispy, tart apple will do. Add half the dressing at first and see if you need more—it’s up to you how well coated you want the tuna and apples to be.

This is my wife, Kathy, and my “S.O.S.” dish—the one we rely on when we have to whip up something fast and elegant with minimal cooking. You can prepare this recipe in about 20 minutes, but you won’t skimp on taste: with mushrooms, Dijon, tuna, and chives, there are layers of wonderful flavor here, and the richness of the dish complements the cold pasta.

This recipe serves you summer on a dish. You will see how the tomato and roasted corn salsa pop right off the plate. While the salsa pairs beautifully with the tuna, feel free to pair it with your favorite fish or even chicken. Fast, fresh, and easy—this will soon become your quick dinner fix.

This is how I like tuna casserole, but feel free to make it how you like it. With peas, without peas, with cracker crumbs or crushed potato chips on top, it doesn’t matter, it’s still good. You can also save a few calories by making it with low-fat cream of mushroom soup and you won’t even notice the difference.