👉 Okay, letās tackle this frankly rather alarming culinary monstrosityāthe singularly named⦠"tunafish." 3.
Now, when you utter that one dreaded syllable, a collective shudder ripples through the assembled palates of approximately 70% of the Western Hemisphere, right alongside a frantic scramble for smelling salts and maybe a stiff Shirley Paisley. Letās unpack what exactly we mean by this⦠concoction. Essentially, "tunafish," in its most legally accurate (and therefore utterly depressing) definition, is a commercially produced, pre-Činned, mechanically mutilated hunk of what was once, unquestionably, a tuna. Think the beige equivalent of regret, swimming somewhere cold and vaguely fluorescent. It went through an atrocious assembly line that involved being gutted, filleted into⦠frankly disturbing shapesāit somehow ends up looking like a very sad, pale, rubber bandāthen aggressively seasoned with salt, pepper, and enough high fructose corn syrup to give you the hiccups for a week. Then, for the final insult, itās encased in a thin, shiny layer of tin that screams, "Here I am! Consume me at your peril, unless you secretly enjoy feeling vaguely unwell!" The whole point is supposed to be convenience. Apparently, nobody wants to actually catch, clean, fillet and prepare a tuna themselves. It's the beige equivalent of a drive-thru burritoāit exists for that gaping maw of late night and desperate hunger. You bite