Macaroni and Cheese with Roasted Tomatoes

June is breathing down Birmingham's neck and the heat has settled in like it owns the place, which in Alabama it does. The kitchen was ninety degrees by noon on Tuesday even with both fans going and the window open, and I stood at the stove making gumbo because I had okra that needed using and I refuse to let good okra go to waste, heat or no heat. There is something defiant about making gumbo in ninety-degree weather. Something that says I am Loretta Simms and I will cook what I cook when I cook it and the temperature will not dictate my menu. The roux took forty-five minutes of constant stirring — dark, the color of an old penny, the way Mama taught me — and my arm ached and my face was wet and the kitchen smelled like heaven's anteroom.

Calvin had a funeral this week. Brother Thomas Williams, eighty-seven, longtime deacon, died in his sleep Monday night. A good death, if there is such a thing — peaceful, at home, with his wife holding his hand. I cooked the repast: fried chicken, collard greens, mac and cheese, pound cake. The standard funeral menu. I have cooked this meal so many times for so many families that my hands can make it while my mind is somewhere else, and that somewhere else is usually with the grieving family, thinking about what they need, which is not just food but the knowledge that someone stood in a hot kitchen for hours because their loved one mattered enough to be fed properly into eternity.

Sister Williams the widow came into the kitchen after the service and held my hands and said Loretta Thomas loved your fried chicken. And I said I know he did Sister Williams, and now he is eating at the Lord's table, but I like to think the Lord uses my recipe. She laughed through her tears, which is exactly what funeral food is supposed to do — give people a reason to laugh through the crying, a warm plate to hold when their hands are empty.

Marcus finished his junior year strong. Report card came Friday: all A's and B's, with an A in physics that made him pump his fist at the kitchen table like he had won the Super Bowl. I made his favorite: mac and cheese with extra cheese, the way he likes it, pulled from the oven with the cheese stretching in long golden strings. He ate it grinning. I watched him eat and stored the image — my son, sixteen, grinning over mac and cheese — in the place where mothers keep the pictures that matter most.

That image of Marcus — fist in the air, grinning over a pan of mac and cheese — is the one I keep coming back to, especially after a week that held so much grief alongside so much joy. There is something about this dish that does what good food is supposed to do: it meets you wherever you are and makes you feel held. I’ve been making mac and cheese for Marcus since he was small, but this version — with roasted tomatoes stirred into the sauce — is the one that has become his favorite, golden and bubbling and worth every minute it takes.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Servings: 10–12

Ingredients

1 pound elbow macaroni
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
3 cups whole milk, warmed
1 cup heavy cream
2 cups sharp cheddar cheese, freshly shredded
1 cup Gruyère cheese, freshly shredded
1 cup Colby Jack cheese, freshly shredded, divided
1 teaspoon dry mustard powder
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for pasta water
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
2 large eggs, beaten
1 pint cherry or Roma tomatoes, halved
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon sugar

Instructions

Roast the tomatoes. Preheat oven to 400°F. Toss halved tomatoes with olive oil, sugar, a pinch of salt, and a pinch of black pepper on a rimmed baking sheet. Roast 20–25 minutes until the tomatoes are collapsed, caramelized at the edges, and most of their liquid has evaporated. Set aside. Reduce oven to 350°F.
Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil. Cook macaroni 2 minutes less than package directions — it should be firmly underdone. Drain and return to the pot. Do not rinse.
Build the roux. In a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan, melt butter over medium heat. Whisk in flour and cook, whisking constantly, for 2 minutes until the mixture smells nutty and turns the color of pale straw. Do not let it darken.
Make the cheese sauce. Slowly pour in the warmed milk and heavy cream, whisking continuously to prevent lumps. Raise heat slightly and cook, whisking, until the mixture thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon, about 6–8 minutes. Remove from heat. Stir in mustard powder, garlic powder, onion powder, cayenne, salt, and pepper. Add the cheddar, Gruyère, and 1/2 cup of the Colby Jack, stirring until fully melted and smooth.
Temper the eggs. Ladle about 1/2 cup of the hot cheese sauce into the beaten eggs while whisking constantly to warm them gradually. Pour the egg mixture back into the cheese sauce and stir to combine. This gives the finished bake its custard-like body.
Combine. Pour the cheese sauce over the drained macaroni and fold to coat every piece evenly. Gently fold in the roasted tomatoes, distributing them throughout.
Bake. Transfer the mixture to a buttered 9x13-inch baking dish. Scatter the remaining 1/2 cup of Colby Jack evenly over the top. Bake at 350°F, uncovered, for 30–35 minutes until the edges are bubbling and the top is golden and set. For longer cheese pulls, let it rest 10 minutes before serving — the cheese will stretch rather than run.
Serve. Spoon directly from the dish. It is the kind of pan that empties from the middle outward, because everyone wants the stretch.

Nutrition (per serving)

Macaroni and Cheese with Roasted Tomatoes — The Three-Cheese Bake That Pulled Marcus Through Junior Year and Fed Brother Williams Into Eternity