And This Is Why I Hate Tuna

This is a can of tuna.

The fact that it is even in our house at all is testament to the fact that I am, clearly, the Best Wife Ever.

I have not eaten tuna - or any canned fish product, for that matter - in 21 years.  And I have NEVER had to share my marriage with tuna.  Until today.

A couple of days ago Talented Hubby shocked the life out of me by requesting I have a few cans of tuna and salmon on standby for quick work lunch fixin’s.  In all the years I’ve known him - coming up to twelve this year - I have never purchased canned fish.  He may as well have asked for sliced Rump o’ Hippopotamus.  And there’s a very good reason for this.

When I was seven years old, I was forever scarred by a dinner-making debacle which lives on in infamy within our extended family.  My mother’s sister was staying with us at our farmhouse and, being what she supposed was a good house guest, she offered to cook dinner for everyone.  I had long since had a moderate dislike of all things canned fishery so you can imagine my surprise when she placed in front of me a gelatinous pile of goop.

Tuna Mornay people.  TUNA!

I looked around for Mum, hoping she’d bail me out.  Tuna was the one thing she never made me eat - vegetables yes, but tuna, no.  Unfortunately she’d been held up doing something for my Dad and was nowhere to be seen.  My Aunt, unaccustomed to a child who was not used to being bullied into eating, sat at our dining table and watched me force down each mouthful.  I won’t go into details but it was a harrowing experience which did not end until three hours after everyone else had left the table.  My parents had, of course, realised what was happening but for whatever reason (unapparent to my 7 year old brain at the time) had chosen to back my Aunt.

When the last mouthful had been choked down, Mean Aunt gave a satisfied “Hrrumphh!” and disappeared, presumably to bark orders at my cousins.  I did what any tuna-stuffed, force-fed, green-gilled seven year old would do.  I ran to cry in my bedroom.

Now, before I tell the rest of this story, I have to introduce you to my Favourite Toy of 1986:

I guess the Heart Family were like Barbie’s poor cousins? Anyhoo, I remember this very specific nursery set as being my most prized possession that year (actually just searching for that picture brought back lots of memories - I also had the car).  I don’t know what happened to the Dad and the little boy.  It’s quite sad.  At any rate, there I was, feeling decidely the worse-for-wear and before I knew it, I realised I was about to experience The Second Coming of Tuna.  I reached for the first thing I saw and prompty emptied the contents of my stomach.  See that cute little cupboard thingy? Uh-huh.

But wait, it gets better…

At that EXACT MOMENT, my Aunt happened to walk past my bedroom window and caught me retching into the poor toy.  In her house, toys were to be looked at, never played with.  You can imagine her reaction when she realised this sobbing, vomiting child was defiling Something That Cost Good Money.

And this is where my Mum, hero that she was, stepped in and put Mean Aunt in her place.  I was bathed, crib/bath whatsit washed and sterilised, and tucked into bed with a bucket and a sympathetic look.

And that is why I hate tuna.

One time, I walked into the Piglets’ daycare to smell a fish-type mornay being served up for the kids and literally had to return to the car and send Talented Hubby in to collect the kids.  Yes, it is that bad.

Over the years, I’m almost ashamed to say, my canned fish neurosis has rubbed off onto the kids.  They’ve clearly never tasted it in our home but have come across it once or twice elsewhere and have also developed a healthy (ish!) distrust of the little green cans.  I’m sorry kids, really, but one thing Mama will never cook in this house is tuna.

I tell this story merely to illustrate that I should, in fact, receive Wife of the Year for today’s tuna purchase.  Never mind that the canning process seals in the smell and (given that they were bought for Talented Hubby’s work lunches) I will never see the inside of the can.  The picture on the can sent me right back to 1986 with my Aunt sitting across the table from me, drumming her fingers in that annoying ‘hurry the heck up’ way really impatient people have.  Sigh.

It was almost comical trying to buy them actually because have you seen the canned fish section of the grocery store?  When Nasty Aunt served up her mornay glop back in the mid-eighties there was probably just tuna in oil and tuna in springwater.  These days there are flavours like chilli, lemongrass, smoked…good grief!  I’ve never bought tuna in my life before! I had no idea what to get!  I stood there dumbfounded before finally picking random cans off the shelf.

I’m just glad I don’t have to be around when he opens them.

Cheers,
Lizzie