'Fancy' Tuna Salad. Tower optional.

So, this post was supposed to be about tuna and avocado. Instead, as you can clearly see, it's just about tuna. I sliced open my lonely avocado that I had patiently let ripen past the baseball stage--a rookie error in the UK, I soon found out--and found it riddled with fat brown veins.

I suppose one lives, one learns, and one gets over the fact that avocados here will never be as good as in the ones in the States.

I digress. Imagine gem-like pieces of avocado among the tomato, ok?

In high school, my French host mother in Biarritz often served me half and avocado with its cavity filled to the brim with tuna and mustardy mayonnaise. I'm sure the mayonnaise was homemade, and I shudder to think how little I appreciated it then. I have only recently warmed to it (I know, I know...), and I still can't stand it in its unadulterated form; chuck it in artichoke dip, with mountains of garlic in aioli, or pair it with ample ketchup and mustard for dipping with fries, and I'm very content to eat it.

As for this tuna salad, I was trying to keep things light, so I used a low-fat creamy salad dressing. Really, any vinaigrette or dressing would work. Mirin, rice wine vinegar and sesame oil could be good, as well. What I found really made this good was the minced coriander, chili, and yellow pepper. Along with some lime juice and a dash of Worcestershire sauce, it was refreshing and clean tasting, rather than overly creamy or heavy.

I can't lie; I missed the avocado, but mixed together with the tomato and served with some wholegrain pumpkin seed crispbread, it was dinner. Not so bad for cleaning out the cupboards on a Monday night.

Two Days, Two Dozen Eggs: Part 2

For E.'s housewarming party this weekend I decided to go retro. Devilled eggs retro.

I was determined to make these the ultimate devilled egg, no ordinary oeuf mimosa. My instincts told me that despite the recipe’s European origins in ancient Rome and Andalusia, it might have been a while since the devilled egg made an appearance on the Oxford dinner party scene. I was right.

These little beauties were met with a bit of apprehension, and most of our friends went for the crisps and E.’s delectable bruschetta before venturing over to the Pyrex casserole lids filled with eggs (when one is many moons away from places where devilled egg serving plates are easily procured, one improvises). Somehow, though, by the end of a very enjoyable evening, the lids were empty...

Here is my version:1 dozen eggs

¼ cup mayonnaise

1 ½ Tbs. Dijon mustard

1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

2 shallots, minced

2 Tbs. capers, drained and minced

1-2 Tbs. sambal oelec

3-4 dashes Tabasco

Salt and pepper to taste

1. Boiling the eggs

Here I decided to consult Julia Child’s egg chapter in The Way to Cook (my culinary Bible for methods), and it worked beautifully. Place the eggs in enough warm water so that the water level is at least one inch above the eggs. Bring the pot to a boil and then immediately pop the lid on the pot of water and remove from the heat, allowing the eggs to sit for exactly 17 minutes. Then, shock the eggs in cold water (this will prevent that woeful, nasty brownish/green discoloration around the yolk) for two minutes. Finally, pour boiling water over the cooked, cooled eggs, and peel. The temperature shock of cold water followed by boiling water will cause the membrane around the egg to release from the white more easily, making the peeling process far easier.

2. Filling

Halve the eggs (I found that cleaning the knife with a damp paper towel between slicing helped to make cleaner cuts) and add the yolks to the other ingredients listed. The filling is, of course, subject to personal taste, but I must say that the sambal oelek chilli paste really worked a dream! Place the mixture in a piping bag with a star tip and fill the white cavities.

The frizzled shallots are optional. But so good!

Remember the lemon curd from Part 1?

Try dipping shortbread cookies in it and dust with confectioner’s sugar.