Fiesta Tuna Salad Sandwiches

July storms in the afternoon. The sky turns black at three. Anatomy lab three days this week. The cadaver work is what they say it is. I am holding up.

Drove to Baker Saturday morning. MawMaw Shirley was at the stove already. We made gumbo. Thirty-five minutes of roux. The lesson keeps unfolding. Tanya called Sunday. We talked recipes. She asked about my schedule. We do not talk about DeAndre directly. We never do. We talk around it.

Shrimp creole Tuesday. Trinity, tomato, shrimp. Rice underneath.

The week held. The roux was right. MawMaw would have approved.

I drove past the gas station where DeAndre died. I do not stop. I do not avoid it either. The drive past is the drive past. He is twenty-eight in my head. He stays twenty-eight.

Daddy called Sunday afternoon. He is sixty-something and his knees are still bad and he still has not gotten the second one replaced. I am working on him. He is working on me to stop working on him. We are at an impasse. The impasse is the love.

MawMaw Shirley's recipe cards in the wooden box on the kitchen counter. I copied another one Saturday morning at her kitchen table. The collection is growing. She watched me copy. She corrected my Cs. She has always corrected my Cs.

Daddy sent me an Amazon receipt accidentally Sunday. He bought a power tool I do not understand. Standard. He texted twenty minutes later, "wrong thread, sorry baby." I told him don't worry about it. He said thank you. The exchange was the exchange.

Anatomy lab three days this week. The cadaver work is what they say it is — not gross, not romantic, just human. I went home after Friday lab and made gumbo because the only thing that quiets the body after a day in the lab is the slow stir of a roux.

The apartment kitchen is small but it cooks. Two burners. One pot. A cutting board balanced on the counter because the counter is too small for both the cutting board and the toaster.

Reading something light at night. A novel by a Louisiana writer. The voice was familiar. The voice was home. The book ended on a small kindness. I appreciated that.

Tanya brought a casserole over Wednesday. The Tanya casserole. Half went into the freezer. The other half fed me Wednesday and Thursday. Mama's casseroles are the silent backup of my entire adult life.

Crawfish boil at a friend's place Saturday. Twenty-five pounds. The shells filled three trash bags. Standard Louisiana spring. We sat at the picnic table for four hours. The corn was the best of the boil. The corn always is.

I sent MawMaw a photo of my gumbo Tuesday. She replied, "too light, baby, keep stirring." She has not changed the critique in twelve years. The critique is the love.

I texted Kayla about her latest design portfolio Tuesday. She is good. She has Tanya's directness and Daddy's eye for proportion. The design field will know her name eventually.

Sunday service at Bethany. The choir sang. The pastor preached on Hannah and Samuel. I sat with Tanya and Marcus. The hymn at the end was the one Mama used to hum. I cried into the bulletin. Standard.

Tanya's tomatoes were in this week. She brought a sack. I made a sandwich for lunch every day for four days. Heirloom tomato, white bread, mayo, salt. The summer lunch. The simplest pleasure of summer.

Driving past the Scotlandville house Sunday afternoon, the one Daddy rebuilt after the flood. The house is solid. The house is the house. I see the watermark from the flood every time I look at the foundation. We do not paint over it. We let it tell the story.

Tanya’s heirloom tomatoes carried me through four days of lunches that week — white bread, mayo, salt, nothing else needed. There’s something about a simple sandwich that holds you when the rest of your life is asking a lot. When I want that same sustaining quality but need a little more to get through anatomy lab and a long evening of studying, this Fiesta Tuna Salad Sandwich is what I reach for: bold, quick, and the kind of thing you can make on a small counter with one cutting board and no apologies. MawMaw would call it practical. I call it the lunch that carries the week.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 cans (5 oz each) chunk light tuna in water, drained
1/2 cup frozen corn, thawed (or canned, drained)
1/2 cup canned black beans, rinsed and drained
1/4 cup red bell pepper, finely diced
1/4 cup red onion, finely diced
2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped
3 tablespoons mayonnaise
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon chili powder
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
Salt and black pepper to taste
8 slices sturdy sandwich bread or 4 hoagie rolls, toasted
Lettuce leaves and sliced tomato, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Drain and flake the tuna. Open both cans of tuna and drain thoroughly, pressing out excess water with the back of a fork. Transfer to a medium mixing bowl and flake into small pieces.
Add the vegetables. Add the corn, black beans, red bell pepper, red onion, and cilantro to the bowl with the tuna. Stir gently to combine.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, lime juice, cumin, chili powder, and garlic powder until smooth.
Combine and season. Pour the dressing over the tuna mixture and stir until everything is evenly coated. Taste and season with salt and black pepper as needed. For best flavor, let the mixture rest for 5 minutes before serving.
Assemble the sandwiches. Toast the bread or rolls if desired. Spoon a generous portion of the fiesta tuna salad onto one slice or the bottom half of each roll. Top with lettuce and tomato if using, then close the sandwich and serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Fiesta Tuna Salad Sandwiches — The Lunch That Carries the Week