Some Things Are Sacred

I’ve just finished making heaven in a casserole dish, also known as, my Mum’s mac and cheese. As a general rule, we don’t eat a lot of processed food, and yeah, I know how to make mac and cheese from scratch with a roux etc… and it’s good, but it’s not the same. Some things are sacred enough to break the rules. This is one of those sacred things.

My Mum’s “recipe” uses Velveeta cheese product. (I just can’t make myself say “cheese” cos, we’ll it isn’t cheese). Though, really, there isn’t a a “recipe”. She learned how to make it by watching her mother make it. So, um, I guess it’s actually my grandmother’s recipe.

I had to watch her make it twice before I was able to make even a CLOSE reproduction of it. There are some fine stirring details that are important, lots of watching involved so as not to scorch the cheese sauce, and it’s important not to put on too much bread crumb or it’ll just be nasty. She wrote her “instructions” (not a recipe) down for me once and it says: “Cook some elbow mac in a pot, drain. In another pot heat some milk, put in some butter, Velveeta, dry mustard and pepper. Cook until smooth. Add to noodles. Dump into a casserole dish. Sprinkle with bread crumbs or crackers, and shredded cheese. Dot with butter. Bake at 350”. That’s it. That’s the “recipe”. No measurements. No times. Zip.

Now, I’m known for not exactly measuring things when I cook, and I’m equally known for “tinkering” with recipes. To quote Pirates of the Carribean “they’re more like guidelines”. And yes, I tinkered with this recipe just a little bit. Just a little. But, I think it’s turned out pretty well.

My Mum on the other hand, is the queen of exact. She likes things to fit, to go, to work together, to be efficient and to turn out. She likes measurements. And it works very well for her. She’s one of the most dedicated and hardest working people I know. If anyone is going to find a way to make something work or to figure something out; it’s going to be her. I admire that. A lot. And I aspire to that, in a more half-assed, meander-y kind of way. (It makes her crazy, I know).

So, that there wasn’t a “recipe” telling me how much pasta or milk or Velveeta to use, or telling me how long to stir for, surprised me. But, I’m glad to have taken the time to learn this “recipe”. I love knowing that my late Grandmother used to make it for my Mum and that she used to eat it as a kid. I love having something to make for my family that was one of my absolute favourite meals as a kid. I love that my family loves it. And though, my eye was calculating the amounts of ingredients today, I’m not going to write it down, yet. I’m going to let my mind and my memories help me make it each time, for a little while longer. And hopefully, I’ll be able to teach my girls how to make it and in time, they’ll carry the memories of this simple dish to their own families.

So on this cold evening, we’ll have a delicious, warm, comforting meal served with a big salad on the side to help ease my niggle of a conscience about the artery clogging trans fats in the Velveeta. But we’ll enjoy it; of that I have no doubts.