Give vitello tonnato a chance

I am sure there are beloved British dishes that inspire horror in those from different cultures, that are truly unappealing to the uninitiated. I can quite imagine that the bright green eel-gravy that traditionally accompanies the East End pie and mash could be figuratively and literally hard to swallow for a visitor. Or that our predilection for Yorkshire puddings – glorified pancakes – on our very savoury roast dinners and a desire for strong cheese served with fruitcake make us seem as mad as a box of frogs.

Which is why, despite the horrified faces of anyone I have described this recipe to over the past couple of weeks, I’m prepared to try to convince you that you – yes, you – will in fact love vitello tonnato, if you only give it a chance.

Vitello tonnato is a classic Italian dish, from the northern Piedmontese region. Thin slices of cold, boiled veal are draped in a mayonnaise-like sauce made from tuna, capers and anchovy. In combining meat and fish, vitello tonnato might be called the original surf and turf. But it can be a hard sell: for some reason, those without tonnato experience tend to recoil at the combination, and particularly at the idea of a tuna-based sauce (despite the fact that, as a country, we’re partial to a tuna mayo sandwich).

It is not helped by its visuals. Vitello tonnato is a symphony of, let’s be honest, grey. There’s no getting away from the fact that if you boil meat, rather than roasting or pan-frying it, it inevitably tends towards the greige. Tuna sauce boasts a similar shade of dun. And bringing a flash of colour is the mossy grey-green of the capers. Like a British coastline in November, there is some kind of beauty to be found in that grey, but to  find it you have to either have been brought up on it, or look really hard.