I tried Matthew McConaughey’s viral tuna salad. It was more than just ‘alright, alright, alright’

McConaughey graduated from the University of Texas just before I did, and I used to hang out with the theater and communications kids a bit. Is it possible I heard him yell, “Alright, alright, alright!” on the quad one sunny afternoon, or handed him a Solo cup at a party? Probably not, but I would bet money we once unknowingly duked it out through the telephone enrollment exchange for that last seat in Intro to Psychology.

Still, what seems more meaningful in this context are our shared Irish roots and Texas upbringing, ranging from the southwest to the northeast parts of the state. We probably grew up surrounded by many of the same culinary influences — delicate Guajillo honey, enchiladas swimming in chili gravy, chicken fried steak at Luby’s Cafeteria, red popsicles dripping in the light of a heat mirage and, yes, chilled tuna salad when it was too sweltering to turn on the oven.

This is not my grandmother’s tuna salad, though. The wasabi alone would have driven her to hysterics.

Since there’s no written recipe, I’ll have to make some guesses about the details. I’ll bet McConaughey grew up eating chunk light in water like the rest of us, a healthy pick if perhaps a little lacking in texture, but surely he buys the good stuff now? Let’s assume this is a 21st-century McConaughey tuna salad, casually mature. I’m going with a great middle-of-the-road solid pack in olive oil, but if you want to allocate an extra couple of bucks to make it really special, my top dietitian’s pick is Scout for flavor, dolphin-friendliness and sustainability. You can also eat lower on the food chain if you’re concerned about contaminants, and switch out sardines for canned tuna in any recipe. Feeling apprehensive? I find Mediterranean sardines to be less frighteningly fishy, and Bela is one of my favorite more-reasonably-priced-but-quality brands.

I wander the aisles of Texas grocery titan H-E-B, choosing the rest of my raw materials. Tasked as I am with representing our shared influences accurately, I suddenly feel the selection of each component is infused with gravest import, and I wonder at the karmic vibe of my quest. Did I ever wait in line behind McConaughey at the H-E-B on East 41st, he with a frozen pizza and two pints of butter pecan, me with Reduced Fat Triscuits and an eggplant? The truth is lost to history.

The apple? Granny Smith, surely. The pickles? He says “dill gherkins,” but is that dill-comma-gherkins as in both, or gherkins which are dill instead of sweet? Based on context cues, I’m calling it the latter. The wasabi? Alas, most of what you will get stateside is actually fake wasabi made from ground European horseradish and some kind of coloring rather than real Japanese horseradish, which is expensive and only ephemerally pungent. Mine is fake but workable enough. 

One special ingredient note — the crispy jalapeños he refers to, I believe, are a kind of jalapeño version of fried French’s onions, and you should find them near the other salad fixings at your grocery store. They are unbelievable. If you happen to be making green bean casserole for Thanksgiving, mix a few into your topping for a cut-above side dish.

I’ve made a couple of minor substitutions — I’m using a shallot instead of red onion, and a little extra pickle juice instead of vinegar. I suggest mixing the dressing separately so the wasabi is evenly distributed without mauling your tuna. It seems like a lot of stuff piled on a modest hunk of fish, but after tasting it, I actually went back in and added more lemon, pickle juice, jalapeño chips, dill gherkins and especially more wasabi — I started out with about a quarter teaspoon but ended up adding a full teaspoon. (Note that if you’re using the real-deal leftover-from-your-lunch sushi, you may want less.)

The final result is simply stellar, the best tuna salad I’ve ever had, much less made myself. It’s unconventional, to be sure, but it hits all the right notes. The crunch from the apple and fried jalapeños, the sweetness of the agave, the pickle punch. I wasn’t at all sure about the corn, but I have to admit, it works. I had worried that the wasabi would take over, but it just pulls everything into harmony … almost. My one complaint is that occasionally the green peas pop up to undesirable prominence. If you don’t love them, you could omit them or replace them with celery without altering the fundamental appeal of the recipe. 

As good as it was right away, after chilling for several hours, it was spectacular. I felt like the rat in Ratatouille, swooning in my kitchen. And yes, the apple was still pristine thanks to the lemon and vinegar, although the crispy jalapeños lost a bit of crunch. Consider adding those just before serving.

I’m tickled pink as David Wooderson’s jeans with this tuna salad from my buddy, my pal, my old college chum Matthew McConaughey. I hope you head out on your own shopping trip, and if it’s dinner for four, use two cans of tuna; I went back for seconds and then snuck a couple more bites later on. It’s high-protein, heart-healthy if you go a little easy on the mayo, and contains both fruits and vegetables, so I’m sold as a registered dietitian as well as a diner.

Speaking of old buddies, now that I think of it, part of the charm of his tuna salad is that it echoes McConaughey’s favorite role of mine, a lesser-known one as Deputy Buddy Deeds in “Lone Star” — it’s spicy salty, complex, terrifying at the outset and just the thing if you want to see deeply into the truth of what it means to be from here. Plus, despite early appearances, it all makes sense in the end.

Except for the peas. I’m just still not sure about those.