Put aside whatever ideas you have about canned tuna, or the words "tuna pasta" together, and let’s talk about pasta for a minute. I don’t need to sell you on pasta. It’s a steadfast weeknight dinner option in my house, whether classic or whole wheat or whatever gluten-free variety that’s ended up on my Healthyish desk most recently. My one gripe with pasta, however, is that, unless I’m making meatballs, a ragu, or some kind of side protein (none of which are happening on a Tuesday night), pasta doesn’t quite cut it as a meal.
Back to that canned tuna. I’m not talking about the watery, shredded-beyond-recognition stuff. I’m talking about olive-oil packed, sustainable, thick-cut tuna that may come in a can (like Genova) or a jar (like Tonnino or Bela). It’ll cost a couple extra dollars, but it’ll make your pasta—and plenty of other dishes—into a one-pot dinner that’s easy enough for a Monday and classy enough for company any day of the week.
My technique is inspired by Joie Warner’s No Cook Pasta Sauces, which I stumbled on via the Epicurious app. The thing about canned tuna is that it doesn’t need or want to be cooked, otherwise it’ll get dry and tough. Instead, you just want to drain a 6 oz can or jar and put it in a heatproof bowl with a clove of chopped garlic, the zest of one lemon, 2 Tbsp lemon juice, ¼ cup olive oil, ½ tsp salt, and fresh pepper, and let the bowl sit over the pot where you’re cooking your ½ lb of pasta (I like a long pasta like linguine; Warner also recommends penne or shells). You could add 2 Tbsp capers, as Warner’s recipe calls for, or the same amount of sliced olives, sun-dried tomatoes, or a couple mashed anchovies. For an even heartier pasta, you could add half a can of drained white beans or a few handfuls of baby spinach, which will wilt when you toss the cooked pasta in the bowl. Chopped parsley is the obvious garnish, but I think dill would be nice too. As soon as that pasta is finished cooking—you want it to be on the more tender side of al dente, since you're not cooking it in the sauce—simply drain it, toss it with your now-warm tuna sauce, and dinner is served.
The first time I made this pasta, my boyfriend, who thinks he hates canned tuna, refused to try it. But he loves pasta more than life, and ultimately that love won out. He ate one bowl, got seconds, and said he’d eat tuna like this any time. It was a victory: for me, for canned tuna, for our Tuesday night.