EASY MEAL FOR LENT
E1
Tuna patties in sauce accented with a classic mix of Mexican ingredients evoke family memories.
Lent perfect is nearly dish for upon you: us, My and dad’s if you Tuna observe Patties as my in Spanish family does, Sauce. I have Growing the up, it was our favorite Lenten meal. ■ Lent always reminds me of my childhood. We didn’t grow up eating fish, which is why I find myself well into
adulthood still learning to appreciate seafood. ■ Ironically, my dad’s favorite hobby was fishing, and Dad liked sharing it with us, taking us out in the wee hours of the morning to the Ocean Beach pier or Spanish Landing, a Thermos of
Mexican hot chocolate in one hand, our poles in the other. Frequently, those outings were with one of us kids at a time. Although the excitement over feeling
the tug on my fishing pole was appealing, my interest in the act of fishing ran low. I think I’m safe to speak for my sisters when I say that, coming from a large family, it was the oneon-one time with my father that we cherished most. On the off chance that we did indeed catch any fish, Dad would clean and cook it for him and Mom to enjoy while we girls enjoyed our hot dogs — which was fine by us.
The one exception to this “but we don’t like fish” rule was canned tuna. An inexpensive protein at the time, tuna salad made appearances as quick lunches several times a month. Besides tuna salad, there were also these tuna patties. Mom never attempted to make them; this was Dad’s dish. Lent was the only time Dad made it, and we looked forward to it every year. It’s filled with the smells and flavors of my childhood: tomatoes, onions, cilantro, peppers — a classic mix of Mexican ingredients that form the base of so many different dishes.
Over the years, I have tried replicating Dad’s recipe. And every year, I’d wind up sitting down for dinner to a plate of scrambled eggs with tuna. I could never get the patties to hold together the way he does. The flavor was always spot on, but it was a mess. Obviously, I was missing something.
Wanting to nail his recipe, I finally gave in and called Dad and shared with him my past failures in replicating his recipe. I told him I’d love to share the recipe with my readers for Lent, but I was so frustrated that I had yet to re-create the dish successfully. Exactly as I was hoping he would do, he laughed and offered to teach me.
So one mid-Sunday morning, I stopped at the store to pick up ripe Roma tomatoes on my way over to my parent’s house. Ever efficient in the kitchen, Dad already had his mise en place, minus the tomatoes I had brought. As he set about chopping them, I quickly estimated and jotted down the quantities of ingredients he had set into little bowls on the kitchen island. Like most intuitive cooks, Dad doesn’t measure. He simply chops and slices, adds a pinch of this and a splash or two of that. This freestyle way of cooking makes recording his recipes — let alone duplicating precisely — a bit challenging.
Dad asked me to retrieve a mixing bowl for him. I handed it to him, and he quickly set about separating the eggs.
And here it was. My lightbulb moment! The elusive step I didn’t know I was missing was all about eggs. I had spent my entire adulthood scrambling them and adding them to the tuna mixture.
“No, no, no,” Dad said, shaking his head. “You have to whip the eggs and yolks separately.”
“Oh, you mean like chiles relleno?” I asked. “Exactly. You’re making a batter. You also have to add a touch of flour to it to help the batter adhere to the tuna,” he added.
Of course! Why hadn’t I ever thought of that?
With the patties made, Dad turned his attention to the sauce. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but my father has always referred to this sauce as “Spanish” sauce. I am not sure why exactly, but I assume it’s what his parents called it.
Once I started exposing myself to Mexican cuisine outside of what we ate at home, I learned his sauce is widely called salsa ranchero (ranch-style sauce). He and my mother use it as a launching pad for so many of the family-style Mexican meals they prepared for us over the years.
When the sauce was ready, Dad fried up some eggs — over-easy for him and me and over-medium with crispy, lacy edges for Mom, who had come downstairs to join us in the kitchen for brunch midway through the cooking tutorial.
Scooping up the tuna patties with hot corn tortillas, we happily devoured our meal as we shared memories of Lenten seasons past.
Sitting there talking and eating with my folks reminded me of a Mexican saying often uttered whenever Dad cooked for family and friends:
”!Panza llena, corazon contento!”
A full belly is a happy heart.
Thanks, Dad!
Until next time, friends. May your memories be good ones.
Arambula is the food section art director and designer. She blogs at www.confessionsofafoodie.me, where the original version of this article published. Follow her on Instagram: @afotogirl. She can be reached at anita.arambula@sduniontribune.com.