There's something grounding about a recipe like this. It isn't flashy or complicated - it's the kind of meal that shows up reliably, wraps around you, and does its job without fuss. Tuna mornay is about making the most of what you have, turning staple ingredients into something that feels abundant. It's a reminder that comfort doesn't need extravagance - it just needs care.
1 TBS of butter
1 TBS of cornflour
1 cup of milk
1/4 cup of grated cheese
425g of canned tuna (in springwater)
400g of canned corn kernals (I use reduced salt)
Salt and pepper
Make a plain white sauce by melting the butter in a saucepan, then adding the cornflour and mixing to a smooth paste.
Slowly add the milk and continue to stir until thickened, then add the cheese and continue to stir until fully combined.
Open and drain tuna and corn, then add to the white sauce. Stir over a medium heat until warmed.
Serve. Add salt and pepper as desired.
Before you begin, pause for a moment.
Notice the weight of the cans in your hand, the soft scrape of the spoon, the gentle steam rising as the sauce thickens. Listen to the quiet bubbling, the small sounds of a meal coming together.
As you stir, slow it down - feel the rhythm. This isn't just preparation; it's presence.
When you eat, take the first bite without distraction. Feel the warmth, the creaminess, the contrast of textures. Let is sit for a second before you swallow.
This is more than just food - it's a moment of steadiness, of enoughness, of being here.