Mac -n- Cheese done right

O.K., first post on this blog in 3 years. I thought at the time I started this that I wanted to be politically edgy, topical and garner mass interest in my totally interesting life and rapier-like witticisms so I could bask in the grand illumination that is THE INTERNET. Alas, there's been a change of plans. I wanna talk about food. Of course, because I find myself so infinitely interesting, I will also talk about me, as I relate to food, my friends, my job and my life. But we are mostly here for the gnosh. The first bite. The hot soup on a cold day. The texture of Filet Mignon bathed in a Cabernet reduction caving in under your bicuspid. The drunken flipping of the third chuck burger on the grill. Rouladen. Brined ANYTHING. Mac -n- Cheese. Ah, yes. That infinitely flexible tabula rasa of carbo-liciousness. Like most of you, my first intro to this humble dish was via a blue and white box of Kraft-iness that sat in my childhood kitchen cabinet like an afterthought. Most of my growing up meals were home made by my single parent mom, and the idea of eating powdered cheese had not yet entered the lexicon of my eating experience. Still, I was curious. After being taught how to cut up a chicken and make stuffed peppers from scratch, I felt that sad little box of pasta was beneath me to undertake. Still, I was curious. So, I took it down one day, and read the directions. Boil water. Add pasta. Cook 8-12 minutes. Drain. Stir in powder. Eat. Hm. Easy enough. Let's roll. It all went off without a hitch. Mixing in the cheese dust, I remember thinking, O.K., wow, this doesn't smell real good. But half of my friends were raised on this stuff, so how bad could it be? First bite. Um. umumumum.........O.K., this is shit. Why is this even in our house? After 3 bites, it was in the trash, not even doomed to be inhaled by the dog. See, the great thing about my mom was, she cooked with real cheese. Oh sure, we had that Kraft "American Cheese" product in the meat drawer from time to time, mostly for my dads sandwiches. I remember grating tons of motz and cheddar for a myriad of dishes and going to the Polish deli for sliced American cheese and Krakau ham and dark rye bread for sandwiches. If you never do one more thing for your rugrats, at least teach them to cook. It is a skill that they will treasure forever. An expressive art of love and creativity. McDonalds is shit and poison. All of us are guilty of the fast food drive by to shut up our mewling charges, but I'm just saying, don't make a habit of it. Know its place. Learn to cook. Cook. Teach others to cook. If you're gonna do the box mac and cheese, at least get the goopy cheese kind. And doctor it up. 3 simple additions to take your mac -n- cheese over the top are diced cooked bacon, drained Rotel tomatoes and a generous shake of Tapatio hot sauce. If you take this concoction and put it in a greased casserole and broil it for about 5 minutes to crisp the top, you will induce smiles of joy and wonder in anyone you're feeding it to. First post done. Peace out.