Something's fishy

You wanna know something weird? I just ate a tuna melt. And I liked it. Perhaps that's not the craziest thing you've ever heard, but the thing is...I hate tunafish. I haven't always disliked it. As a kid, I ate tuna salad pretty regularly. I think it tapered off around college, because I certainly was not going to eat the tunafish that had been sitting in the cafeteria for god knows how long. After that, I ate it sporadically, but I liked it well enough. Something changed in the past five years, though, and I began to find it revolting. Like, don't-come-near-me-with-that-tunafish-sandwich-lest-I-puke-all-over-you gross. I was convinced that the very act of mixing canned tuna with mayo, celery, and relish would give rise to an advanced civilization of virulent E. coli that would rule the human race with their tiny little iron flagella. I still love tuna sashimi or a nice slab of rare, seared ahi or tuna tartare (I choose to believe that only innocuous bacteria would inhabit such tasteful food), but tuna from a can? A sad waste of perfectly good fish, and disgusting to boot. It didn't help that I worked in a café in New Haven, where everyone and their dog seemed to love the tuna salad. I usually tried to pawn off tuna-sandwich assembly onto a co-worker, but that was pointless, because I also worked in the kitchen and had to make VATS of tuna salad. No nice little single-serving cans there. No, the tuna came in 2.5 pound cans and the mayo in six-gallon jugs. I held my breath a lot in that kitchen.

Lately though, I've found myself drawn to the idea of tuna, despite the fact that only recently, I recoiled so violently from Chris's tuna sandwich that I gave myself whiplash. In particular, I've been thinking about tuna melts. And really, for someone who doesn't like tuna, what could be worse than WARM tuna salad, with warm MAYO, and CHEESE on top? On paper, it sounds like a recipe designed to purge your entire GI tract of anything resembling biological matter, including your GI tract itself. And yet.... Until today, I've managed to ignore the fishy siren song, because I knew I'd hate it. I just KNEW. But today, I caved. Maybe it's the cold gloomy weather or maybe it's because they didn't have tomato soup. But I ate it...and I liked it. It was warm and gooey and oh-so-cheesy. It definitely tasted like tuna, but somehow, with the cheese and the toasty bread, it wasn't so offensive. It was kind of...y'know, good.

And now, I am confused. I used to know where I stood on the tunafish debate. No wavering or waffling for me. No sir, I stood firmly with the anti-tuna brigade (ATB) and nothing was going to sway me. "Down with tuna!" I'd chant, waving my "Just say no to tuna" banner. I need a new slogan. How about, "I'm down with tuna melts!"? I'm a little worried about what the ATB will have to say about this. What if they make me swim with the fishes?