Mac and Cheese

We're making macaroni and cheese today.

But first, a quick lesson on food history.

Patience, Grasshopper.

Do you know why Spam is so popular in Hawaii? Because fresh meat was unavailable there during World War 2. Spam was it. It needs no refrigeration and comes in uniform packaging. They even figured out how to make sushi with it. It's called spam musubi, and it's available everywhere, not unlike gas station hot dogs on the mainland.

Something for which the Axis powers were never made to answer.

Likewise, that staple of child cuisine and bachelor cooking, the box of macaroni and cheese. Fresh dairy products, such as cheese and milk, were redirected for the war effort. The food packagers of the day decided to fill the gap with the bright yellow stuff that I'll eat all by myself until self-loathing sets in because my wife makes me stop after a while.

Now diagram that last sentence and have it on my desk by five.

But what of the old fashioned variety? I mean, mac and cheese is nothing new. There's strong evidence that Thomas Jefferson came up with the first recipe for the stuff before the Revolutionary War.

War and food, man. There's a real connection there.

We're going old school today. In a previous post I used the phrase, "mother sauce." The French mother sauces are, in no particular order:

• Espagnole
• Veloute
• Tomate
• Bechamel
• Hollandaise

Italy has an entire spate of their own, with each region laying claim to something or other, but we're staying in France today.

Jacques suggests a nice glass of wine while you're cooking.

We're making macaroni and cheese today, and, we'll be using a classic technique that involves bechamel.

Don't worry, we'll be discussing the others soon enough.

Here's the equipment you'll need for the sauce - a digital scale, a one quart saucepan, a whisk.

Edibles for our bechamel will be 45 g. AP flour, 45 g. butter, salt and pepper to taste, two cups of shredded cheese and one pint of milk. Any kind of non-cultured milk will do, but whole milk will yield a creamier product. You do you.

 

Our mise en place. Clockwise from the upper left, milk, flour, butter, cheese, pasta. 

Over medium heat, melt your butter. Then add your flour and with your whisk stir the roux for three minutes. You're making a blond roux here, and the three minutes are to take the raw cereal flavor out of the flour. Three minutes, set a timer if you need to. I usually do.

Once the three minutes is up you can slowly add your milk. Room temperature would work best. Stir the milk in. You'll notice that the roux starts looking like clay, then mashed potatoes. That's supposed to happen. Don't panic. Food senses fear. Just keep stirring with your whisk. If you do it slowly enough, your sauce will be ready by the time it's all in. If not, that's ok. Keep on stirring, making sure to get in the bottom corner of the pan. Stuff likes to collect and burn there. You might need to turn up the heat a little when you're doing this part.

Once the sauce thickens, add about a 1/4 teaspoon of salt and a couple grinds of pepper and congratulate yourself. You have made Bechamel, one of the mother sauces of French cuisine. But don't pat yourself on the back too much, you'll burn your stuff and have to start over. You can't unburn this stuff.

 

That's about halfway done.

We will now be taking our lovely Bechamel and turning it into an entrancing Mornay by adding cheese. What kind of cheese is up to you. Gruyere is a fine choice, as is a nice sharp cheddar, which is what I'm using today. Take a generous handful, drop it in, and stir. Then drop more, stir it in, keep going until you've used all the cheese. You put all the cheese in at first, you're going to knock shreds out of the pan, onto the burner, and that's just not good...times.

A little at a time. That's the ticket.

You could eat it with a spoon.
I do.

Our sauce is ready. Now we consider our pasta. Elbow macaroni is a fine choice here, but feel free to use any pasta you care to.  Penne works very well, and farfalle is usually a hit with the kids. Whichever pasta you use, try to make sure it’s one that holds a thick sauce well. Macaroni works well because it’s a bent tube that collects the sauce inside of it.

I'm going to assume you know how to boil water...Y'know what, no I'm not.

Two quart sauce pan, fill three quarters with water. Season with two teaspoons of salt. People love using kosher, and it is versatile. More on that another day. Table salt will do just fine for this. Bring to a boil, then add two cups of pasta - yes, you should measure it - reduce the temp to medium high and cook until al dente, about ten minutes, depending on what kind you're using.

Pasta's done, so drain it. Keep about a cup of the pasta water, though. We'll be adding some to the cheese sauce. Helps it take the pasta. Place the cooked pasta right back in the pan you cooked it in, and pour your lovely Mornay over it. Stir to coat. If the sauce is a little thick, you can thin it with some of the pasta water. Just use as much as you need; it probably won't be the entire cup.

Put the cup in the strainer, pour some of the pasta water into it. Take the cup out, finish pouring your pasta into the strainer.
Easy.

And there is your homemade mac and cheese. You can garnish it with a little paprika or freshly ground nutmeg, or top it with some panko crumbs, throw it under the broiler for a few minutes to toast.

The finished product.

A short paragraph about using fresh nutmeg – go slow. If you use too much your food will taste almost like a chomped up pill. Three strokes, two inches long, on the microplaner will do just fine to start. You can add more. Don’t have a microplaner? Get one. Don’t have whole nutmeg? Get some. There is no comparison between the fresh stuff and the preground in the cute little container. Fresh is almost always best.

Finishing thoughts. You can have the best pans, most expensive stove, sharpest knives, and none of it will do you any good if you don't have patience. Add the milk to our roux slowly and your bechamel will be almost perfectly ready when you're done adding it. Let your cheese melt in all the way before you add the next handful. Don't let yourself get in a hurry. You're the boss here, make the food do their work for you.

And don't get hung up on your tools. My favorite whisk came from a grocery store. I bought my stand mixer at a pawn shop. My first chef's knife is from Walmart. That dish with the finished product up there? Dollar store. If they work for you, then they work for you. Now, there are certain questions of quality you need to ask yourself before you invest in a new sauce pan or paring knife, but we can get to that some other time. Just remember that inexpensive isn't synonymous with crappy, and high cost doesn't always translate to superior quality.

Whatever you do, though, don't put your knife in the dishwasher.