


I've reached a dead end with Macaroni and Cheese.

Last year, when the New York Times published an article about why everybody was mislead about Macaroni and Cheese (people are actually making Macaroni with Cheese Sauce, while the author offered a version with only pasta and cheese, which I made and which was oily and heavy ), it was on top of the most-emailed list for a couple weeks. I’ve been searching for the Platonic Ideal of Macaroni and Cheese: something robust and crusty, creamy without being oily, filling but not heavy. American Macaroni and Cheese, when made with a little Bechamel/cheese sauce stirred into pasta, has never hit the spot for me. Other times, the recipes provide a new way of looking at a dish. I’m convinced that this tool of preparation is the difference between good home cooking and great restaurant experiences. With a little effort once a month, your pantry and fridge can be stocked with the kinds of easily-incorporated ingredients that, when thrown into a soup, slathered or over a steak, or brushed onto a baguette, will help elevate your cooking to greatness. The absurd attention to details, the flowery short essays about “the importance of onion soup” in the philosophy of bistro cooking, the potential of preparing-ahead the “building blocks” of cooking (like soffrito and aioli ) that allow you to continue preparing uncomplicated dishes with simple, inspired combinations, while introducing a tremendous amount of flavor and depth. I’ve already done my public fawning over Thomas Keller’s cookbooks.
