Mac + Cheese = All the Things

So, okay, blogging. Are there rules to this? No? I mean, I suppose there's really nothing stopping me from making several blog posts in one day, but that doesn't sit well with me. It's not that I don't like blogging. I really enjoy blathering over everything, especially since it tends to involve things like food. The problem is that almost every day, Scott and I have some brilliant (?) idea to try cooking one thing or another. Inevitably, this leads to a lot of things like, "Oh...maybe we should have added that last," or, "Wait wait wait Robbin are you sure it's -- no, that's supposed to be a teaspoon, not a tablespoon," or, "Eh, I guess we'll see what happens!"

Since my last post, we have made more than the macaroni and cheese, which I have promised for this round. In a valiant attempt to use up all the farm-fresh fruits and veggies he receives twice a week (truth: Scott isn't really even fond of salads or vegetables in general, so it boggles my mind as to why this was a good idea in the first place), he decided to stir fry some of the greens, because if you fry anything, it'll probably taste good. This led to my suggestion of stir fry, which somehow led to the idea of a spaghetti stir fry. I really wanted to make pupusas, but realized that we needed some "studying" when it came to that, so instead of making pupusas, we went down to the Mission area to look for some test pupusas. And then somehow we ended up making melon pan. Really, I've given myself a lot to write about. Oops.

But that's all right, really, because I rarely ever see anything wrong with more food, except for being unable to consume said food due to 1) being too far away or 2) being too full to eat said food.

The reason for the mac and cheese was because I was getting ready to leave for work and I had a sudden burst of sadness in the form of tears. This is something that tends to happen when a person has no job satisfaction and has been yelled at all day at work and the realization that you may have chosen the wrong profession becomes glaringly obvious. I resolved to keep my chin up, keep applying to ALL THE JOBS, and hope for that one company to say, "Yes, Robbin, you're pretty cool, please work for our equally cool company, because that would be cool." Probably in a more professional tone. Or, like, business-casual tone. Startup-casual tone. I don't know. That's my basis for hope, though. And I sniffled out all my sniffles and went straight to work, because tears will not solve anything. And on the way to work I get a text from Scott saying that he will make me anything I want for dinner.

Thus, mac and cheese. I specifically requested adult mac and cheese, though I'm still very fond of Kraft mac and cheese shaped like dinosaurs. But since I was sad about adult things like job satisfaction, it called for something with more effort and shared kitchen time.

Behold its bubbly glory!

Scott picked me up from a pleasantly not-so-bad day at work, and we went straight to the market to get our ingredients. Now, I grew up in a big, relatively poor family. I'm very much used to buying lots of things for cheap. I expected to get some elbow macaroni and maybe a block of cheese that wasn't American cheese, I guess, but no. No no no. Being half Italian, it seemed important that Scott got the correct pasta, which was cavatappi. I'd never heard of it before, but since it basically looked like dozens of spirals of cheese-holding goodness, I had no complaints. And then we bought cheese. I'd never actually seen so much cheese, except for this one time in French club back in high school when we had a cheese tasting lunch period. We picked up a hefty block of gruyere, mild cheddar, and sharp cheddar. It was going to be a cheesy time indeed.

I personally see no reason to continue making mac and cheese after it's reached this state:

Seriously. Just give me a spoon and I will have at.

Is this not all ready to eat? Why must I wait longer? But no. Apparently adult mac and cheese involves a lot more effort. Since this extra effort involved sliced tomatoes, which I love, and also bread crumbs from a loaf of a fresh baguette, there was little complaining on my end. It's always good to know that the sous doesn't complain. Mainly because I'm just hungry anyway, and I know eventually, the food will be in my belly. Cooking has taught me that patience pays off. Although the food would taste good now, it could potentially be exponentially tasty after the extra steps have been applied. I am so okay with that.

I do not argue with the man who holds the knife and is incorporating two of my favorite things into one of my favorite dishes. That is just silly. And also, I can't really wield a knife all that well.

Mac and cheese is excellent in all aspects because it's easy to make. I tend to like meals that are essentially, "Hey, let's put all this good stuff in a pot, bake it for an hour or so, and then, yeah, it should pretty much taste amazing either way, right?" And it's just so warm and filling and so comforting that...okay, so Scott and I didn't really realize what we were getting ourselves into. I mean, we're just two people, and we ended up making this huge freakin' casserole dish of mac and cheese.

Did I mention we added chicken to the recipe? Because we did. This was a giant Pyrex casserole dish of mac and cheese, the sort that you'd probably bring to a party where lots of people will be consuming all sorts of different kinds of food, thanks. Except that it was for just the two of us. Needless to say, there's a helluva lot of leftovers in the fridge, and I'm pretty darn glad that Scott and his many minor neuroses mean that he likes packaging everything for individual consumption before putting food away. Smart man, that one.

Ah, yes. The recipe. Since we hardly changed anything in the original recipe, I'm just going to link it here. All we really did was add chunks of uncooked chicken breast that we'd had left over from when we were making baked chicken nuggets before popping the cheesy mass into the oven. Here's the recipe:

Mac and Cheese

Aww yeah. That's from Food Network, ala the Barefoot Contessa. It's been a long time since I've mindlessly sat in front of the television watching cooking shows, but I distinctly remember shutting it off when this show came on because I found her voice too lulling and I'd just end up taking a nap on the dining table. Not attractive, I assure you.

Up next: my Community scale of movies and sequels, by use of Annie and Abed, plus...whatever food I happened to take a picture of. For now, I'm going to get ready for the Yelp Literati party this evening. But before that, it's time to play some Banished. The Hamlet of Robbinshood cannot wait that long.