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Friday, 26 April 2013

Iron Man's Food

So I saw Iron Man last night. 

On screen that is. Not in the flesh. If I'd seen him in the flesh, I wouldn't be here right now. I'd be on some hospital bed in an ecstatic swooned-out state.

But no, quite sadly, I'm still here.

But I saw Iron Man.
A.k.a. Tony Stark. 
A.k.a. Robert Downey Jr. 
A.k.a. The peak, pinnacle and zenith of absolute yummyliciousness.

Marry me?

Seriously though. Men don’t come this sexy these days.
If you find ‘em, go grab ‘em I say.
I did :)

Still. Despite an admittedly sexy husband, if you want me to bare my soul to you, I won’t lie: I do love Iron Man. I mean, what on earth is he doing with Pepper Potts? And who’s called Pepper anyway? Pepper belongs in my food blog, right up there with Salt. 
While I (IMHO) belong with Iron Man.

Ya falla?

Anyway, see I’m not one of those Superhero crazy types. You know, unlike Sexy Sid. Now, Sexy Sid would marry Batman, Superman, and all the Avengers put together if he could. Seriously.
Now, I don’t quite see the appeal in this motley crew. Besides Scarlett J that is (now, Scarlett J, anyone would be willing to marry). I mean, they’re cool and all. And they have 12-packs and 14-packs. And big, strong arms. Besides Scarlett J that is. Scarlett J has other things. Nice things. Anyway. So, yes they're all that. And they save the world. Which is most commendable, all of it. But have I ever wanted to marry them? Nooooo…

But Iron Man? A.k.a. Beautiful, Balbo-sporting Tony Stark? Famous, powerful, rich, heroic, arrogant, charming and oozing sex appeal like a bottle of Manuka honey turned upside down? I mean – come on folks!

Anyway, I won’t give the movie away - (I’m many things, but I’m not a spoilsport!) – but I will say that if there was one scene in the movie that endeared me to IM more than ever before (not that I really needed an excuse), it was the one where, presumed dead, he’s actually alive, taking shelter in somebody’s garage in snow-bound Tennessee. Jarvis has (temporarily) conked, despair fills the air, the snowflakes fall fast and furious and IM needs to pick himself up and get back on the horse (in a manner of speaking). It is in this – this moment of need then – that he asks for (among other less important things):


Yup! You’ll heard me! A Tuna Sandwich. 
A Tuna Sandwich is what The Iron Man wants in his moment of darkness. 

And with that?
He has me at Hello.

Because the Tuna Sandwich is the bomb.
The Tuna Sandwich is a legend unto itself.
Nothing beats a Tuna Sandwich done right. And I mean, nothing.

Now, here’s the thing, people. I’m a straight-talking, direct kinda gal and I say it as it is. So, here it is, plain and simple:

America: While I don’t understand your gun laws and you speak funny, and you spend way too much time debating issues that are better left to people to sort out in their bedrooms (I mean, really), here’s the thing: No one, and I mean, No one does a sandwich like you.

I really miss your sandwiches, I do.
That wholesome, hearty bread, filled to the brim with any number of generously stuffed, delicious fillings, topped with fresh lettuce and tomato, and finished off with real condiments. My, oh my, oh my.

Seriously, I cannot believe how these places in the UK get away with calling those measly buttered slices of yesterday's thin white bread with half a slice of ham and 1/10 of a leaf of lettuce in them, a sandwich. Makes me laugh, always has. Except when it makes me cry.

Want to get a real sandwich?
It's New York City Baby!
Katz’s Deli? Now that’s a sandwich.
I challenge you to finish one of those babies on your own!
And I miss it, I do, I do.
Ask me 5 things I miss about New York and “a real sandwich” is one of them.
I dream about this stuff, folks, seriously.
And it's a real problem. Like I mean, think about it - England, the land of the Earl of Sandwich has no idea what a sandwich is.
See what I mean?

So, anyway, coming back to the point, when All American Iron Man, wanted an All American Tuna Sandwich, guess what happened?

I came home and made one.
And then I ate one.
And then I decided to make you make one.
So you can eat one.

And so there you go.
Thank Iron Man.
You don't need to thank me.
I do this for pleasure.
But you're welcome, anyway.

Right, there is nothing fancy about this, nothing glamorous or exotic or quaint. It’s just a simple Tuna sandwich – classic, traditional and timeless.

The most important thing here – which holds true for all food that doesn’t have the luxury of being embellished with 500 spices – is the quality of the ingredients.

Garbage in, garbage out. Capiche?

So, please! Buy the best tuna, some kick-ass Dijon mustard, amazing mayonnaise (none of that light stuff please) and GREAT bread. You need GREAT bread.

Here’s what you need:
- 2 (6 ounce) cans of high-quality tuna 
- 5 tbsp amazing mayonnaise
- 2 tbsp plain yogurt
- 2 tbsp kick-ass Dijon mustard
- 1-2 tsp fresh dill, finely chopped
- 1 tbsp fresh parsley, finely chopped
- 1/4 tsp cayenne. I love cayenne. Cayenne will change your life. Trust me.
- Salt to taste. And Pepper if you like. Though I'm not digging the word "Pepper" these days...just saying :) 

So that’s that. 

You can throw in about ¼ of an onion if you like, for some heat. I’m just not a huge fan of raw onion.

Mainly because I like to be kissed.

Life’s all about priorities.


Or you can do the whole celery thing. Say a quarter cup, diced. I hate celery.  Right up there with bananas. But you may love it. Nothing wrong with that. Celery, I mean. How can anyone love bananas? So anyway – want celery? Go for it my friends. Do what you love. That’s what it’s all about.

Right, last bit – the bread. The bread is really the main thing here, you gotta get the bread right. Now, I will only eat Tuna Salad on Pumpernickle. Only. That’s a rule. I’m weird like that. You of course can do anything you want, but please – if you can get some Pumpernickle, try it and see how beautifully it goes with Tuna. To put it romantically, Tuna and Rye are simply “meant to be”

Now, Pumpernickel to the uninitiated, is really German Rye bread. It’s slightly sweet, dark, dark brown, almost black coloured bread made from whole, coarsely ground rye. And it’s amazing. It’s hard to find here on my island, but it’s everywhere in America, you lucky devils!

Anyway, it goes really well with smoked meats, and fish fillings...lox, caviar, and Tuna of course.

Right, so I won’t tell you how to make a sandwich (basically because you're not five), but I will tell you how to eat it. Top with lettuce and a thick slice of ripe, red tomato. And eat it with ketchup please.
Wait. Wait. Don’t judge.
Try it.
And while I know it just sounds wrong to be eating a sandwich with ketchup, remember that your Tuna sandwich has a whole load of Mayo in it. And Mayo and Ketchup are Yin and Yang. The ultimate logic defying taste combo. Addictively, fantastically good stuff. And I’ll leave it at that…

Oh and while youre at it? Crush some potato chips (yes, just basic potato chips or crisps or whatever you want to call it) and mix it with ketchup and when it’s a all one big mess, eat this concoction as a side, along with your Tuna Sandwich.

Do it. 
And think of me.

While I think of Iron Man. And his Balbo.


  1. Yet again an amzingly involving funny loveable blog from you!
    I am not a tuna fan but surely a big fan of ur writing...bring it on more and more!!!!!!!!!!!!


  2. Thank you so much! Im so embarrassed my reply is so late in the coming - Im not even going to start with the excuses. But Im back, so keep reading please x