A recipe for a tuna and olive tapenade that requires almost no work
As you most certainly know, it's very hot out. And if this was a women's magazine from 1950 or 1960 or 1970 or now I would follow that sentence by saying something pithy about how you've got a family to feed and guests over and it's a zillion degrees and you most certainly do not want to turn on the oven, so THIS is the recipe for YOU! But as this is not a women's magazine from any era, I won't say that but will say that that sentiment remains unfortunately true: If you must cook right now, "cook" this tuna and olive tapenade.
I'll outline the recipe here—shared with my father by a friend of his—but it's really barely a recipe as much as it is throwing some stuff into a food processor and letting that do the job; this is the rare occasion where the lack of explanation his cookbook provides was extremely fitting. What I will note is that, unlike the description here, I do think better is better; though the recipe specifies that you can just use Progresso, I preferred a nicer oil-packed tuna. (Join another time to hear my extensive thoughts on canned tuna.) I also used Kalamata olives, not black, but that's because canned black olives are disgusting? I also always have about four different things of olives in my fridge, so going with what was available there seemed better than adding yet another type of olive to the selection. (I did use exactly 24, as interestingly specified.)
Stunningly appetizing looking.
Once you have the above ingredients, throw them into a food processor, stir in the lemon, and top with an herb for fanciness. I served this not at a party, but for a Sunday dinner, with an endlessly adaptable cucumber and heirloom tomato salad, astoundingly delicious feta cheese, prosciutto, more heirloom tomato, and a crusty baguette. (The flowers seen above were from my friend Caity; they made the whole tableau look like I'd really tried, but she gets all the credit for being the kind of person who brings flowers over in a vase when she comes to your house.) Happy grazing, which is actually just snacking, but fancy.
