Tonnato sits in your pantry right now, masquerading as a condiment when it's actually a gate.
This purée of canned tuna, anchovies, lemon juice, and olive oil became obscure in Anglo-American home cooking. Not because it's difficult or because canned tuna carries shame, but because of how it was introduced to the postwar American table and what that framing did to it. Start with vitello tonnato.
In the 1960s and early 1970s, the dish appeared in American restaurants and food magazines as an emblem of European sophistication. Julia Child's writing treated it as a proper dish requiring technique, legitimacy, occasion. Something a certain kind of cook performed, not casual or everyday.
When home cooks encountered tonnato, they inherited the same context, a signal that you had read the right books and understood the right traditions. The message was always that this is not for the weeknight. Contrast this with pesto's journey through the identical period and channels. Pesto landed in American kitchens as an ingredient story, not a technique one. It was Genoese, yes, but the framing emphasized what you could do with it. You could toss it, dollop it, or blend it into anything.
If a thing arrives framed as expertise, most people defer to experts rather than experimenting.
The rusticity was the point, and the equipment was minimal. Canned tuna's actual identity matches pesto's framing far more closely than it matches vitello tonnato's — humble, fast, versatile. But the path the sauce followed locked it into the wrong cultural category before home cooks could develop their own relationship with it. This pattern repeats wherever gatekeepers control the first encounter with an ingredient or technique. If a thing arrives framed as expertise, most people defer to experts rather than experimenting. They assume they'll fail and wait for occasion.
The question is what happens to the ingredients you're encountering now, for the first time, in your own life. The framing you're reading today isn't neutral description. It's an assignment of place. Watch for which ones you're being invited to collect like museum pieces and which ones you're being handed as tools.
Blend a can of tuna, anchovies, lemon juice, and olive oil into a purée and use it like pesto—toss with pasta, dollop on vegetables, spread on bread—to reclaim it as everyday ingredient rather than occasion-only technique.