An Ode to Macaroni & Cheese
Some days instill a strong desire to plunge into the nearest sofa and a bowl of something really good.
While my ruminations may not technically qualify as an ode, I do think they offer an appropriate amount of praise for this simple, yet magical, combination of pasta and cheese. With so many uncertainties in the world, we can usually rely on the citadel of the stove-top to deliver some sense of control over our lives - and the certainty of really good macaroni and cheese can be very cathartic and comforting these days.
Stovetop Macaroni & Cheese
Something we can throw a little hot sauce on and eat directly from the pot.
For some people (myself included), cooking can bring a sincere comfort - an unwinding, sense of relief that comes from the certainty of doing something we know, step-by-step, towards a known outcome - something we can throw a little hot sauce on and eat directly from the pot. Perhaps something worthy of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day (a la Judith Viorst’s beloved 1972 children’s book of the same name, based on her actual son).
This week, I found an incredible amount of comfort not only in macaroni and cheese, but in the wise and witty words of octogenarian author, Judith Viorst. My quest to document macaroni and cheese led me down many rabbit holes, as do most of my writing endeavors. Connecting the comforting powers of macaroni to having a bad day led me to Alexander and the life and work of his mother-author. Previously unbeknownst to me, Judith Viorst is an inexhaustible and beautifully hilarious poet who, since the 1960s, has written about her life - decade by decade - landing most recently on her newest book of poems, Nearing 90.
“Learning to take pleasure in the ordinary pleasures of every-day life.” —Judith Viorst
Whether you have grandparents or not (or if you’ve found yourself taking care of one), this is a must-listen that gave me some much needed perspective on my own life recently. I will certainly be listening to Judith next time I make a pot of macaroni and cheese for my own octogenarian (as I did today).
Materials & Methods
Stove-top mac starts with a basic sauce - mornay to be exact - which is just a fancy French word for cheese sauce. The process is simple and universal: fat + flour + liquid = sauce. Since fat equals flavor, we’re using a combination of butter and olive oil. Starch (in this case flour) is lightly toasted in the fat to make a light roux. Then, liquid is added to emulsify everything into a luxurious sauce base. We’re caramelizing shallots and blooming some black pepper and nutmeg in our fat before finishing the sauce - and our liquid consists of wine, first, and then dairy.
Finish with good cheese and a little hot sauce. Whatever cheese you have on hand is good - as long as, you know, it’s good. Finally, make your favorite pasta shape and toss it in the sauce.