I love to eat! Especially pasta. Especially with cheese. So it will be no surprise that after almost 80 years, I still turn to mac and cheese when I’m feeling sad or happy, lonely or full of gratitude for my friends and family, fat or less so. When I’m anxious about our former president and what he might do next, or unsure of how I might make our world even the tiniest bit better, I can sit down with a bowl of macaroni and cheese and it all seems bearable or doable. And I love to share it with guests.
I grew up with a mother who had many talents. Cooking was not among them. My brother swears that we had a six month run of Swanson Frozen dinners every night when they were first introduced. I’m sure my first macaroni and cheese came out of a box, Kraft as I remember. I didn’t know the delights of baked mac and cheese until I started cooking myself in my 20s. I’ve experimented with many varieties — skinny mac and cheese made mostly with low fat cottage cheese and cauliflower mixed in with the pasta to full fat with butter, cream, cheddar, with a sprinkling of breadcrumbs and crispy bacon on top — the piece de resistance.
Mac and cheese did not, however, become a family favorite until something of a contest was proposed. When my grandson Parker was perhaps 8 or 9, he and his sister Katriella were visiting us for the day, giving their single-father a bit of a break from parenting. Andrew, my husband’s youngest son, would join us later. I asked Parker what he wanted for dinner. At that point in his life he was one of the least assertive children I knew. He mumbled something like “anything” or “whatever.” I asked, “How about macaroni and cheese?” That got a reaction, but not the one I expected. He replied, “My dad makes the best macaroni and cheese there is!”
“Hm,” I thought. We’ll see about that. Parker had thrown down the gauntlet without realizing it. I don’t know where the recipe came from. I have many cookbooks and have made many varieties of mac and cheese, as I’ve noted. I suspect that it was more like the piece de resistance than the skinny version. I made a gigantic pan of mac and cheese. Everyone at dinner that night said it was yummy. Parker said it was OK. However, as I was covering the leftovers to put in the fridge, Parker asked me if he could take them home. I won.
Since then I’ve tried many of those other versions. I love them all. But when Parker comes for dinner, it’s always the most luxurious kind. No bacon any more though, he’s a vegetarian now. At 20 and in college in London, we don’t see him as much as we’d like to. But when he comes home, and he will be doing that soon, he can count on a gigantic pan of his favorite mac and cheese. He’ll be bringing his girlfriend home this time. I’m anxious to meet her, and I hope she likes macaroni and cheese, too.
