Eat Fresh or Don't

I was stunned the other day when I heard on a radio newscast that Subway has 2,266 locations in California. I waited for the usual followup, a story about a guy from San José who has made it his life's quest to have a sub from each and every one of them.

But, no. The story was about the sandwich chain's response to claims from two Californians that its tuna subs have absolutely no tuna in them. Subway, based in Milford, Connecticut, says "nuh-uh!" to that.  They have beefed up their tuna commercials with a tout that their wraps and subs contain "100% real wild caught tuna."  So there.  And they offer 15% off on a footlong if you use the promo code "ITSREAL."  "Keep fishing folks, we'll keep serving 100% wild-caught tuna," the chain says.

The attorney for the people who filed the suit says they had their tuna subs tested and no tuna was found. All of my friends who studied chemistry and whatnot, please tell me what the "tuna test" would be. Leaving some out in front of a hungry cat?

 The lawyers say:  "What Subway bills as tuna is a mixture of various concoctions that do not constitute tuna, yet have been blended together by defendants to imitate the appearance of tuna."  

Subway says: "There is simply no truth to the allegations in the complaint that was filed in California. Subway delivers 100% cooked tuna to its restaurants, which is mixed with mayonnaise and used in freshly made sandwiches, wraps and salads that are served to and enjoyed by our guests."

And if you go to the Subway website, they define their tuna as "the tuna salad made with flaked tuna in brine, mayonnaise and a flavor-protecting additive."

It has been a rough couple of years for Subway. Remember in September, when Ireland's Supreme Court ruled that the rolls they use in their sandwiches could not legally be called bread in that country because of its high sugar content? And then there was the class-action settlement in 2017 over the fact that Subway's "footlong" subs fell short of that mark by an inch.   

I can state with certainty that I have not had a tuna sandwich prepared by any other than my own two hamfisted hands since 1966, when I was forcibly graduated from the now-defunct Towsontown Junior High School. The cafeteria ladies there made yellow cake, snowflake rolls, peanut butter fudge, and tuna sandwiches so exquisite as to move many of us to flights of ecstasy. And so what happened? They tore the place down.