Waldorf Tuna Salad -- The Reliable Spring Fish, Kept Close

Karin called from Stockholm. We talk every Sunday now. Mamma's death made the sister-calls non-negotiable. Karin and Astrid and me. The three remaining girls. We hold each other up across the distance — Stockholm to Duluth to the Twin Cities, the triangle of us. We talk about the weather. We talk about the grandchildren. We talk about Mamma sometimes, but mostly we talk about whatever is in front of us. The whatever-is-in-front-of-us is the love. Lena moved to Bozeman, Montana. She is a wildlife biologist now. She sends photos of bears. The photos are on the fridge. I worry. I do not say. The worry is the standard grandmotherly worry — bears, weather, men, distance. Lena is fine. Lena has always been fine. Lena is the most self-sufficient grandchild I have, and the most distant, and the one I worry about specifically because of both of those things. Jakob got engaged. To a woman named Claire. They are both teachers. Jakob is twenty-eight. The wedding is in spring. I will bake the cake. The princess cake. The sacred cake. The cake of every Johansson wedding since I made it for my own wedding to Paul in 1988. I am sixty-something and I am still baking the cake. I will bake the cake at every Johansson wedding for as long as the hands work. I cooked Salmon with dill this week. Lake trout or salmon, slow-roasted with butter and dill and lemon. The reliable spring fish. The Damiano Center on Thursday. I have served soup at this center for twenty-some years. I know the regulars by name. I know the seasons of the crowd. I know that the first cold snap brings new faces. I know that the days after holidays bring the lonely ones. I know that the worst weeks of the year are not the ones that feel the worst — they are the ones in February when the cold has worn everyone down and the city has run out of tenderness. Paul would have liked this dinner. Paul would have liked this week. Paul would have liked this life. I tell him about it anyway. The telling is the keeping. I have been told, by a grief counselor, by friends, by my own children at certain anxious moments, that perhaps the constant tell-Paul thing is not healthy. I do not agree. I think it is exactly healthy. I think it is, in fact, the structural beam of my emotional architecture. The beam is solid. The house stands. It is enough. Paul is not here. Mamma is not here. Pappa is not here. Erik is not here. They are all here in the kitchen, in the smell, in the taste, in the wooden spoon and the bread pans and the marble slab. The dead are not where the body went. The dead are in the kitchen. The lake from the kitchen window has been doing what the lake does for as long as there has been a lake. The lake has carried fish and ships and the bodies of drowned sailors and the names of Ojibwe villages and the granite-cold of melted glaciers. The lake does not notice the lives along its shore. The lives notice the lake. That is the deal. That has always been the deal. It is enough.

The salmon with dill was for dinner, slow and quiet, the way Paul liked fish cooked — not rushed, not fussed over. But the lunch the next day, when the house was still and the lake was doing what the lake does, I wanted something that carried the same spirit without asking anything of me: cool, bright, a little sweet from the apple, a little sturdy from the walnut. This Waldorf Tuna Salad has been in the rotation for years. It is not the princess cake. It is not a statement. It is just the kind of food that keeps you going, which is, on most days, exactly what is needed.

Waldorf Tuna Salad

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 2 cans (5 oz each) solid white albacore tuna, drained well
• 1 medium apple (such as Honeycrisp or Fuji), cored and diced small
• 2 stalks celery, thinly sliced
• 1/3 cup walnut halves, roughly chopped
• 1/4 cup red grapes, halved (optional but recommended)
• 1/3 cup mayonnaise
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
• Butter lettuce or romaine leaves, for serving

Instructions

1. Drain and flake. Drain both cans of tuna thoroughly and transfer to a medium mixing bowl. Use a fork to break the tuna into small, even flakes without over-mashing it.
2. Add the produce. Add the diced apple, sliced celery, chopped walnuts, and grapes (if using) to the bowl with the tuna. Stir gently to distribute evenly.
3. Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, lemon juice, and Dijon mustard until smooth. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
4. Combine. Pour the dressing over the tuna mixture and fold together until everything is lightly and evenly coated. Do not overmix — you want the apple and celery to keep their texture.
5. Chill if time allows. Cover and refrigerate for at least 10 minutes before serving. The salad keeps well for up to two days in an airtight container.
6. Serve. Spoon onto butter lettuce leaves, serve with crackers, or pile onto toasted bread. Good cold, good simple, good as it is.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 280 | Protein: 24g | Fat: 17g | Carbs: 9g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 390mg