I RATHER SUSPECTED that when my son chose “mac and cheese” for our second culinary project, he was envisioning the kind that comes out of a box, a kit with powdered cheese. It’s true, I confess, that we often have a box of Annie’s brand on hand in the cupboard for those days when cooking from scratch just isn’t possible (which happens more than I’d like). It’s all natural, which is good, and there are whole wheat versions, which my son will happily eat. Annie’s is a great nutritional improvement over my teenage Kraft mac and cheese habit (I can’t say how many times my roommate and I cooked that in our hotpot, wolfing it down without remorse, marveling at the fluorescent orange color of the “cheese stuff”). But for this quality time in the kitchen with my son, I had higher aspirations.
I believe that every family should have a good, basic macaroni and cheese recipe in their repertoire; a base of pure comfort. A dish that’s great the way it is (and sometimes only plain will do), but that also withstands the occasional effort to gussy up a classic with other, more sophisticated ingredients. This version of mac and cheese hits the mark. It’s a slightly modified version of a recipe from David Waltuck’s Staff Meals from Chanterelle cookbook, a really successful application of four-star talent to the home kitchen. I decided, after conferring with my son, to eliminate some ingredients. I also modified the cheese, downgrading the sharpness of the cheddar to suit his taste, which is typical for his age—that is to say, milder is better. Finally, my own compromise for health: replacing a significant quantity of cream with milk. (For this last adaptation, the recipe doesn’t suffer one bit, but my figure and my cholesterol count thank me. It is somewhat humbling to lean toward middle age and cook for a growing boy who can eat anything at all and remain a slender, compact mass of lean muscle.)
Cooking this dish was fun, though I could tell that my son was not quite as into the process as he was with our prior recipe, the bolognese sauce. I think this had something to do with timing: we were trying to get the mac and cheese into the oven so that he could use the baking time to go outside with my husband and hit tennis balls with a racket. It’s hard to compete with that. My son kept asking if he could leave the kitchen to give a status update to his father: “We’ve grated the cheese . . .” (actually, he really got into that part of the prep work), “I’m rinsing the pasta . . .” (he discovered how to turn on the spray function of the kitchen faucet), and “It’s in the oven . . . let’s go!” How could I blame him? Plus, he was sweet about his desire to finish quickly.
The verdict once the guys came home, washed up, and sat down to lunch? Mixed review. My husband and I loved the recipe. My son liked the flavor, but said he thought the dish was “a little too hot, and too hard.” Hot was just a matter of letting it cool on the plate long enough, so no problem there. Hard referred to the top crust of the dish, which perhaps could have come out of the oven five minutes earlier . . . or else in the future I will just scoop down below when I serve my son—my husband and I can battle it out for the “hard” part that, to us, is one of the best features.
Mac and Cheese After Waltuck
(modified slightly from David Waltuck’s Staff Meals from Chanterelle)
Ingredients:
1/4 cup gros sel (coarse salt)
1 pound ridged pasta shells or other medium-sized, ridged shape
2 cups heavy cream
1 cup milk
2.5 cups grated yellow cheddar (mild, medium, or sharp)
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 dash Worcestershire sauce
1 dash hot sauce
Freshly ground black pepper
1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/3 cup fine whole wheat bread crumbs
Method:
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.
Set a large pot of water with the salt to boil on high heat.
While waiting for the water to boil, grate the cheese and set aside. Measure out the cream and milk, mixing them together in a small, heavy-bottomed saucepan.
When the water for the pasta is rapidly boiling, add shells and cook until barely al dente, about 7 minutes. (Cooking time will depend on the size and shape of the pasta you are using; the pasta should not be hard to the touch, but still very firm to the bite, more so than for regular al dente, as it will continue to cook in the oven once the dish is assembled.) Stir occasionally to prevent sticking. Pour into a colander when done, and run cold water over the pasta until completely chilled. Drain. Once thoroughly drained, put pasta in a baking dish. Use a shallow dish if you like more of the surface to be crisp; otherwise, use a deeper dish.
Bring the cream and milk to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce to low heat and stir in the grated cheese, mustard, Worcestershire and hot sauces, and pepper to taste. Stir over low heat until the cheese is completely melted.
Pour cheese sauce over the pasta in the baking dish and stir to coat completely. Sprinkle the parmesan, then the bread crumbs, over the top of the dish.
Bake until the cheese bubbles and the top forms a golden crust, 40 minutes or less. (We cooked ours for 40 minutes, and I thought it was great; given my son’s verdict of “too hard,” though, I’ll probably try it at 30-35 minutes next time.)
A Note About “Hardness”:
Another thing to consider is that this time, instead of filling one casserole, I split the batch in two so that we could bake some and have some in the freezer for later; it’s possible that the portion I baked had a less-than-ideal quantity of cheese sauce covering the pasta. Also, the original recipe called for smaller, elbow-shaped pasta, rather than the shells. Each of these factors may have contributed to the crunch of the uppermost layer of pasta.
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
It still has 2 cups of cream? Did it originally have 3 cups? That’s a lot of cream! It sounds devine but then cream, cheese, & pasta? What could possibly be bad about that? Yum I think I’ll try it and limit the cream even more and maybe use whole milk and/or half & half as a substitute.
Martha, Yes if you can believe it, it was originally 3 full cups of heavy cream. Two is still a lot, but I figured I’d cut back in increments—despite, as you suggest, the impossibility of anything “bad” about cream, cheese, and pasta. I’d try the recipe first with half-and-half. It’s probably also fine with just whole milk, but, well . . . ;-) Thanks for reading this post and recipe. Let me know how it comes out if you decide to make a lighter version.