Prohibition Casserole

New year, new you, right? Well, sorta. I find in winter, especially post-Christmas-binge and New Year’s over-indulgence that I start to crave simple food. Comfort food. The types of dishes I was weaned on as a kid and the same things I still whip up myself 15 years after leaving the cradle of my mom’s home cooking. Comfort food is different things to different people. For me it’s tuna casserole; the old standby supper dish that spun around the turntable on the Panasonic Genius microwave in my parent’s kitchen, heating up to feed us on frozen January nights.

It’s not classy and it’s certainly not sophisticated. It’s not remotely healthy, or even inventive. And for some, like my ex, it’s not even remotely appealing. (For him, beans on toast conger comforting suppers growing up.) But for me it makes my mouth water and my stomach lurch in anticipation while it’s baking (sorry mom, no micro for this kid) and it makes me happy. Not school-girl-giggling happy, but a contentedly satisfied kinda happiness. One that’s warm and sincere.

My mom’s version of this dish is a little simpler than the interpretation I made today but the two main ingredients hold true; canned tuna and Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup. I came across these two bastions of the canned-food era while raiding my parent’s pantry over Christmas. They high-tailed it to Florida and left me alone to snoop and shop in one of the best stocked aisles of any grocery store: their root cellar. It holds the “overflow” from the main kitchen and a coffin-sized deep freeze worth $10,000 in steak alone. So, while browsing the shelves I came across a healthy supply of solid white tuna and a corner stocked with more condensed soup than any household should lay claim to. Just seeing those cans together was somehow soothing and I knew right away how their existence would play out.

So why Prohibition Casserole? Because some things don’t need booze and tuna casserole is one of those things. I thought about it. Of course I thought about it. I think about booze all the time and how it can turn the lamest of dishes into meals worth savouring slowly. But tuna casserole doesn’t need to be tarted up or made fancy. She is what she is and I for one won’t be changing her anytime soon. Unless I get truly inspired.

To make the version I made today you’ll need to sauté half a diced onion and two ribs of celery, diced, in a little bit of butter for a couple minutes before adding a few cloves of garlic, sliced, and half a red pepper, chopped. Season with a little S&P and add to a large bowl with your can of tuna (water and all). Flop out that gelatinous tubular mushroom mixture (a real chef would at least make his own sauce) and stir in a can of milk. I had some buttermilk in the refrigerator so I used half of that and half milk. Grate in a little fresh parmesan cheese and taste for seasoning.

Now, boil up some noodles, be they penne, macaroni (mom’s fave) or fusilli etc. I never measure anything so you’re probably looking at using two cups or so. Cook until they’re a firm al dente (they’ll soften further in the oven), drain, and pour into tuna mixture. Transfer to a casserole dish and top with bread crumbs (I used crushed up Ritz crackers, just to be fancy) and bake for about 30 minutes in a 375 degree F (190 degree C) oven.

While it’s baking mix yourself a cocktail. A Bloody Caesar would be a complimentary choice (and considered a side salad too).

Serve piping hot from the oven, garnished with chopped celery leaves and a side of self-satisfaction.

*Tomorrow, beans on toast so fancy you’ll freak.