In a recent post, BAGRUBA wrote of her husband’s dislike of tuna. When I began commenting on her post, I realized I was writing
something of too much length to be just a comment. So, here is a post that follows up her post,
Trickery” , which includes a recipe for Tuna Cakes.
During our early marriage, my wife was so determined to make me like tuna that she actually made me dislike it even more. After
several years, she gave up. Many years later, I took over nearly all of the meal preparations which got me to thinking back on my childhood and the food I ate then. I surprised myself when I remembered that tuna was a large part of our menus.
My mother made it as casserole, patties and salads and I always ate it with gusto.
Why had I developed such dislike? The only thing between my mother serving tuna and my wife serving tuna was the four years
that I was in the Air Force. So, what had the Air Force done to cause me this dislike? I couldn’t think of anything. In fact, I could not remember having tuna during my tour.
As much as I hate admitting I was being ridiculous, I have to say I was being ridiculous. There is no other explanation. So,
while my wife was at work, I would (sneaky like) experiment with tuna for my lunch.
I remember my first experiment. I bought ½ pound of macaroni salad at the deli and a 5 ounce can of tuna. I just mixed them
together and ate. I liked it! At another time, I tried a tuna, mayo, and onion sandwich. I liked that, too! Yet another time I made a garden salad that I added some tuna to. (I used a honey/ mustard dressing.) Again, I liked it. (If I had any leftover tuna,
I would give it to the neighbor’s cat which learned long ago to hang out at our door.)
This change brought on a new problem that I needed to resolve. How can I serve my wife a meal of tuna after I had refused it
whenever she prepared it? If I served tuna for a meal, I was very aware that there would be repercussions. For example: “How come you won’t eat tuna when I fix it? Isn’t my food good enough for you?” Or- even worse- the silent pouty treatment for which I would
have to ask a thousand questions about what’s wrong only to be met with more pouty silence. Communication breakdown? Nope! Total blackout.
After a few weeks trying to determine if serving tuna would be starting WW III, I made macaroni salad with tuna and served
it to my wife. (It felt like offering a meatball to a wild tiger. The tiger would certainly eat it, but would include my entire upper body as the route to the meatball.)After taking a taste, she asked, “This is tuna! What made you fix this?”
(Crud! Here it comes! Quick! There must be a lifesaving lie someplace!)
“This is really good!”
“You must have made this just for me because you don’t like tuna. You’re so nice!”
(What’s happening? Must be the tiger likes butter and sugar on torsos?)
She continued eating without further comment and then took a second helping. After eating, she said she would like to have
the leftovers for her lunch!
Was I actually in the clear? Time will tell. Sometimes the goddess of war takes a while to create the perfect strategy for