By Marcus leaves for the Tuskegee summer program next week, and the house already feels different, the way a room feels different when you know a piece of furniture is about to be moved. He is not gone yet. He is right here, eating my fried chicken, leaving his shoes by the back door, playing his music too loud. But the leaving is in the air, and I can smell it the way I can smell rain before it arrives — something in the atmosphere shifts, and you know the weather is changing even while the sun is still shining.
I have been cooking for the freezer all week. Containers of mac and cheese, individual portions of fried chicken, bags of collard greens, slices of pound cake wrapped in foil. Marcus says the program provides meals. I said the program provides food, which is not the same as meals, because a meal has love in it and institutional food has a budget. He laughed. I packed the freezer containers anyway. A mother prepares. It is not optional.
Calvin has been quiet this week in the way that Calvin gets quiet when he is feeling something he does not have words for, which is rare because Calvin always has words — the man preaches for a living. But this is different. This is his youngest son leaving home for the first time, even if it is only two weeks, and the leaving activates something in a father that is different from what it activates in a mother. A mother worries about food and safety and whether the sheets will be clean. A father worries about the man his son is becoming and whether he has given him enough tools. Calvin has given him enough tools. I have given him enough food. Between us, the boy is equipped.
Made a big Sunday dinner — Marcus's last Sunday dinner before he leaves. The full spread: fried chicken, mac and cheese, collard greens, candied yams, cornbread, sweet potato pie. CJ drove from Huntsville. Destiny was there. The table was full and loud and everything a Sunday dinner should be. Marcus ate until I thought the chair might need reinforcement. He looked around the table at his family and he said you know I am only going for two weeks, right? And we all laughed because yes we know, but two weeks is two weeks and the table will miss him and we will miss him and the missing starts before the leaving, which is the part nobody tells you about loving someone who is growing up.
After dinner I stood in the kitchen alone and washed the dishes by hand and talked to Mama in my head. I said Mama, my baby is leaving. And Mama's voice in my head said: he is not leaving. He is becoming. And you fed him into the becoming. Now let him go become. I dried the last plate. I put it in the cabinet. I closed the door softly, the way you close a door on a room where someone is sleeping.
That night, after the plates were put away and the house got quiet, I didn’t want anything delicate or dainty—I wanted something that felt like a hug with a little heat behind it, the kind of food that reminds you that life is still going on and it’s still good. Marcus has been asking for my Buffalo Chicken Mac since last summer, and making it that week felt like one more way of feeding him into the becoming Mama talked about. Here’s how I put it together.
Buffalo Chicken Macaroni and Cheese
Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 1 lb elbow macaroni or cavatappi pasta
- 2 cups cooked rotisserie or baked chicken, shredded
- 1/3 cup Buffalo hot sauce (such as Frank’s RedHot), plus more to taste
- 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
- 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
- 2 1/2 cups whole milk, warmed
- 1 cup heavy cream
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1 teaspoon onion powder
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1/2 teaspoon dry mustard powder
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for pasta water
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 2 cups sharp cheddar cheese, freshly shredded
- 1 cup Monterey Jack cheese, freshly shredded
- 1/2 cup cream cheese, softened and cubed
- 1 cup panko breadcrumbs
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted (for topping)
- 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped (optional garnish)
Instructions
- Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of generously salted water to a boil. Cook macaroni 2 minutes less than package directions — it will finish cooking in the oven. Drain and set aside.
- Coat the chicken. Toss the shredded chicken with Buffalo hot sauce in a small bowl until evenly coated. Set aside.
- Make the roux. In a large, deep skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat, melt 4 tablespoons of butter. Whisk in flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 1 to 2 minutes until the mixture turns light golden and smells nutty.
- Build the sauce. Slowly pour in the warmed milk and heavy cream, whisking constantly to prevent lumps. Increase heat slightly and continue whisking until the sauce thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon, about 5 to 7 minutes.
- Season and melt the cheese. Reduce heat to low. Stir in garlic powder, onion powder, smoked paprika, dry mustard, salt, and pepper. Add cream cheese and stir until melted. Remove pan from heat and fold in shredded cheddar and Monterey Jack in two batches, stirring until fully melted and smooth after each addition.
- Combine. Fold the drained pasta and Buffalo chicken into the cheese sauce until everything is evenly coated. Taste and adjust hot sauce, salt, or pepper as needed.
- Transfer and top. Preheat oven to 375°F. Pour the mixture into a greased 9x13-inch baking dish. Stir together panko breadcrumbs and melted butter, then scatter evenly across the top.
- Bake. Bake uncovered for 25 to 30 minutes, until the top is golden and the edges are bubbling. Let rest 5 minutes before serving.
- To freeze. Cool completely, then portion into airtight freezer-safe containers or cover the baking dish tightly with foil and plastic wrap. Freeze for up to 3 months. Reheat individual portions covered in a 350°F oven for 20 to 25 minutes, or until heated through. Add a splash of milk before reheating to restore creaminess.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 610 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 31g | Carbs: 50g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 780mg