I have posted a handful of quick-and-dirty recipes in this space over the years, a practice I should probably resume, given that I cook a lot more, and have both a stable of go-tos and a willingness to experiment.

In recent months, my cooking has taken on a healthy bent. I still love to eat, though, and I’ve been playing with my food prep to find ways to take care of myself while still enjoying the food I make.

One such item is tuna salad. I’ve been eating homemade tuna since middle school and making it myself for almost as long. The recipe I wrote up was easy, cheeky and reliable. But instructions like “Did you stop adding mayo out of skepticism? Fear? Seriously, add more” don’t really cut it when considering the heart health of a 50-plus man. Also, the line in my recipe about “low-fat mayo tastes as good as regular” is patently untrue, which we realized once we started buying Maria’s Homemade Tuna at Westside Market.

A few months of experimentation has landed the tuna recipe in a good place. Herewith, the updated approach, adapted from the previous one.

Ingredients:

  • 2 cans of solid white albacore tuna in water (I buy 7 oz. Kirkland cans; if you use another brand, the tin is probably a different size, so adapt accordingly)
  • 8 tablespoons low-fat mayonnaise (I buy Hellmann’s)
  • 1/4 cup fresh dill, finely chopped
  • 1/4 cup onion or similar
  • Fresh ground pepper
  • Half a stalk of celery (optional)

Open tuna cans, drain water, dump contents into a steel or glass mixing bowl.

Mash up the tuna a good bit. I use a dinner fork for this and keep it pretty informal, although getting to small pieces is important. My mom, from whom I learned the basics of this recipe, used to dice the hell out of her tuna fish with a chopping knife resembling a single-handed mezzaluna, which served to eradicate most traces of fishiness but also took out some of the texture and flavor. I no longer opt not to go that far, although you certainly can. Still, you want to break up the tuna well, because the interlacing of the ingredients is important.

Next, add the mayo. I have settled on a ratio of four tbsp mayonnaise to seven oz tuna, which creates the flavor mix and texture that makes the salad satisfying, if not as indulgent as the heavy mayo approach I used to use. It keeps the saturated fat to a reasonable level, too. Mix thoroughly.

Once tuna and mayonnaise are integrated, the supplemental items can be added. Fresh dill is my go-to now; it provides a great herbal counterpoint to the main ingredients. Onion and pepper are flavor enhancers that add depth to the mix, unlike the top note that the dill provides. I’ve been using a sprinkle of onion powder from the spice rack. Minced onion also seems to work, as would fresh onion, also finely chopped and mixed in. A couple twists of fresh ground pepper pair well with the fresh dill although any pepper will do.

Celery is a nice final note because it adds a great textural counterpoint to the sponginess of the tuna. I put in a half-stalk, diced into small but not minuscule pieces, although with the addition of the dill I don’t find it as important as I used to.

Finally, chill the tuna salad, then serve. This part has not changed: tuna is, in this cook’s opinion, best at its coldest. Good tuna salad is equally satisfying atop a green salad or in a sandwich, though this riff on Jewish-deli tuna salad deserves a matching bread to show off: rye, pumpernickel, challah or a bagel. Top with lettuce and serve. Eppes essen.