Among the many wines that match with
these select tunas are Southern Italian whites, Provençal rosés
and even Sauvignon Blancs from New Zealand. |
Tuna à la Can
Sorry, Charlie, Mediterranean tuna rules
Until it was dethroned a few years ago by shrimp, canned tuna was America’s most popular seafood. But the typical canned tuna most of us eat, the kind from the supermarket that needs gobs of mayonnaise to mitigate the chalkiness, is as far removed from the luxurious olive oil–packed tuna from Italy, Spain and Portugal as bluefish is from bluefin. And tuna belly, or ventresca, takes Mediterranean canned tuna to an even higher flavor plane. The Tre Torri ventresca I sampled for this story was easily the most sensuous tuna I’ve ever tasted, a kind of maritime foie gras.
Darrell Corti of Corti Brothers, a Sacramento, Calif., food retailer, says that canned tuna is considered “practically sacred” by Italians, who use it in dishes such as vitello tonnato (cold veal with tuna sauce), as part of antipasto platters and in salads, especially with white beans. “Italians don’t eat fresh tuna unless they live close to where it is caught,” Corti states.
The Spanish have so much respect for canned tuna that Quimet i Quimet, a tapas bar in Barcelona, proudly serves it right out of the can. “It was amazing,” says Jose Garces, who visited the restaurant as research for Amada, his Spanish tapas restaurant scheduled to open this September in Philadelphia. “They just opened a can in front of me, drizzled some balsamic [vinegar] over it and served it with a few crackers. It was one of the most delicious tunas I’ve ever [tasted].”
What makes 4 ounces of high-end canned tuna cost as much as $16? It starts with the tuna itself. For example, American tuna canners don’t use bluefin tuna because it is too dark and intensely flavored for most American palates. Yet, bluefin was once a staple of Mediterranean canned tuna. Today, it is scarce, and expensive, largely because the Japanese covet bluefin—especially the ventresca, which they call toro—for sushi and sashimi. Fortunately, you can still get canned bluefin, which Italians call tonno rosso, at a price. The three Tre Torri tunas I tried are all from bluefin and range from $28 to $38 for a 10.57-ounce can.
Italians also use yellowfin tuna, which isn’t as dark or as deeply flavored as bluefin. Albacore, called bonito del norte by the Spanish and alalonga by the Italians, is also extensively canned in the Mediterranean, as is skipjack. Albacore, regardless of where it comes from, is the only tuna that can be called “white” or “solid white.”
Another difference between Mediterranean and American supermarket tuna is the way in which the fish is processed. Whereas American canned tuna comes from boats that stay out for months at a time, according to Corti, the Italians and the Spanish work with fresh fish. It is also cut and packed by hand, as opposed to being stamped out and packed by machine. Hand-packed tuna has a firmer, meatier texture. Finally, tuna packed in olive oil tastes richer. “Italians would never buy tuna in water,” Corti says.
Americans tend to prefer tuna packed in water because it has fewer calories, and light-colored tuna because its flavor is milder. However, Pino Luongo, owner of several restaurants, including Coco Pazzo and Centolire in New York, says that water “doesn’t maintain the taste of the tuna. Oil isolates the tuna and preserves its integrity.”
Packed in olive oil by hand, Italian,
Spanish and Portuguese canned tunas are richer and meatier than
their American counterparts. |
My favorite tuna of the other types I tried was Hijos de José Serrats from Spain, despite being in relatively small pieces. It had an almost eggy richness that made me want to eat it right out of the can. Ortiz was just a half step behind. Flott (from Sicily) and BuonItalia were very meaty and firm, though not as rich. I also tasted Tre Torri, Vino e Olio, L’Isola d’Oro (from Sicily), Callipo and A’s Do Mar (from the Azores, off the coast of Portugal). Though not in the top tier, all were head and shoulders above water-packed StarKist albacore.
The Mediterranean isn’t the only place that offers canned tuna alternatives. In the past decade, American tuna microcanners on the Pacific coast have been using smaller, younger albacore tuna that have a higher fat content and lower mercury levels than the larger, older fish used by high-volume canneries. (Albacore tend to accumulate mercury more than other tuna. Government agencies recommend weekly maximums of 3 to 6 ounces.) I tasted three microcanned tunas, each of which was hand-cut and cooked and packed in its own juices—no water, no salt. Pacific Fleet was my top choice. It was meatier and moister than the other two: Tuna Guys and Cinda’s Sea Maiden’s Harvest. Still, all of them were drier than the Mediterranean tunas and in need of salt. Mixed with mayonnaise, these three had chunkier textures and heartier flavors than StarKist.
With the best of the Mediterranean tunas, particularly the best ventrescas, I wouldn’t do much more than add a squeeze of lemon or a few drops of good balsamic vinegar. Beyond that, these tunas can go into a multitude of salads, from the classic salad Niçoise to one with a Mexican bent, with black beans, corn and cilantro. Beans of all kinds go well with tuna, as do asparagus, potatoes, sweet onions, tomatoes and roasted red peppers. Condiments such as capers and anchovies and seasonings such as celery leaves, Italian parsley and basil are all tuna-friendly.
Tuna sandwiches take on new meaning with oil-packed tuna, whether it’s an Italian panino with grilled eggplant, tomato and mozzarella on ciabatta or a garlic- and olive oil–bathed French pan bagnat. Also, try tuna on pizza with some feta or goat cheese, or whip it into an easy mousse with the addition of a few tablespoons of heavy cream.
Pastas offer almost as many possibilities as salads. One of the best I’ve eaten in recent years is Nona’s Spaghetti from Dante deMagistris, former chef of Blu in Boston. The blend of tuna, golden raisins, capers, tomato, toasted pine nuts, parsley and red pepper flakes reminds me of the Sicilian pasta con le sarde. DeMagistris says that his family used to eat it cold at the beach, which is not so strange to me since my family ate lasagna at picnics. However, I think his pasta is best at room temperature.
Luongo says that he likes to use southern Italian wines such as Fiano di Avellino and Greco di Tufo from Campania with southern Italian products like canned tuna. I agree and would add Verdicchio from Le Marche. I’d also include Sauvignon Blancs from Loire Valley or New Zealand and Albariño from Spain. But my absolute favorite pairing is a sturdy Provençal rosé. Not surprising, since I have found that light- to medium-bodied reds work best with grilled tuna steak.
You’d never think of wine with supermarket canned tuna, and that’s exactly the point. High quality, oil-packed Mediterranean tuna deserves something more than Diet Pepsi.
How to Get It
| BuonItalia, New York, (212) 633-9090, www.buonitalia.com |
| Caviar Assouline, Philadelphia, (800) 521-4491, www.icaviar.com (Hijos de José Serrats) |
| ChefShop.com, Seattle, (877) 337-2491, www.chefshop.com (A's Do Mar, Ortiz) |
| Cinda's Sea Maiden's Harvest, Portland, Ore., (503) 245-1596, www.seamaiden.com |
| Corti Brothers, Sacramento, Calif., (800) 509-3663 (A's Do Mar) |
| Gustiamo Inc., Bronx, N.Y., (877) 907-2525, www.gustiamo.com (Tre Torri) |
| Rockridge Market Hall, Oakland, Calif., (888) 952-4005, www.rockridgemarkethall.com |
| The Chef's Warehouse, Bronx, N.Y., (718) 842-8700, www.chefswarehouse.com (L'Isola d'Oro) |
| Tuna Guys, Kingston, Wash., (360) 638-2510, www.tunalovers.com |
| Vino e Olio , Miami, (877) 846-6365, www.vinoeolio.com |
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