Tuna Casserole, because there’s gonna be some Yankee shit going down here sometimes

I’m getting old. You’re getting old. We’re all getting old. And with getting old, being tired always comes. I’m exhausted. All. The. Time. I have more than my share of health problems. Two years ago, I had a partial thyroidectomy because of cancer. And my surgeon thinks I have it again. Tiredness and extreme fatigue come with thyroid cancer. And I struggle with it. Every. Damn. Day. But my family still needs to eat.

Enter the Yankee shit that sometimes goes down in this house. Being married to a Yankee, I’ve started to open my mind to cuisines that tend to have Northern leanings. I tried pasties for the first time a few months ago. They were good, but could have used some Tony’s Creole Seasoning. I’ve been looking at ways of making chowders, soups and stews, in between gleaning over PhD programs in system engineering. I was re-watching an episode of Big Love the other day revolving around a funeral. Lorday, those Mormons love them some casseroles for funerals. And someone mentioned a tuna casserole. Tuna casserole? Sounds easy, which is music to my tired-ass ears. I’ve concocted the easiest tuna casserole that tastes halfway decent. I’m not saying that I’m ready to trade in my scapular for Mormon garments, mind you. I’m just saying that eating casserole never came up in Vatican II.

1 lb. wide egg noodles or dumpling noodles, cooked per package directions

2 cans cream of mushroom soup

1 1/2 cups evaporated milk

Large can or 3 small cans tuna fish, drained and flaked (just mash it with a fork)

12 oz. package frozen peas

1 1/2 cups plain bread crumbs

3/4 stick of butter

Combine tuna, milk, soup, noodles and peas in a large bowl then transfer to a casserole dish. Melt butter and mix with bread crumbs. Spread bread crumb mixture over the top of the casserole dish. Bake at 350 degrees for about 20 or 25 minutes, but check on the topping often. The bread crumbs will brown quickly—don’t let them get too brown.  I’m still trying to wholly accept this dish into my culinary repertoire, but with burnt bread crumbs on top, it ain’t gonna happen.

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