Pumpkin Mac and Cheese

Last week of school is approaching and the kids are running on fumes and excitement and the specific manic energy of children who can taste summer but cannot yet reach it. Amber has finals. Tyler has a project due. Justin has survived sixth grade without another suspension, which I am celebrating quietly because celebrating loudly would jinx it, and I am not superstitious except when I am, which is always when it involves Justin.

Josie finished third grade with flying colors and came home with a certificate that says excellent reader and a drawing of Mr. Whiskers the hamster, who is apparently still alive, which is a testament to either the school care or the hamster genetics. Josie asked again if we could get a hamster. I said we have a garden. She said a garden is not a hamster. She is correct. A garden is not a hamster. But a garden does not need a cage or cedar shavings or a tiny water bottle, and I am holding this line.

I made a big pan of enchiladas this week, the creamy chicken kind from my freezer meal rotation, because it was end-of-school week and end-of-school week deserves enchiladas. Flour tortillas, shredded chicken, cream cheese, green chiles, jack cheese, enchilada sauce. Rolled, packed tight in the pan, covered with sauce and more cheese, baked until bubbly and golden. The kids ate it in a frenzy. Dave ate his portion and then ate Josie portion that she abandoned because she decided mid-meal that she is done with cheese, which is a new phase and will not last.

I packed the slow cooker for a two-day run to Kansas City. Loaded it with my trucker soup: ground beef, pinto beans, tomatoes, corn, onion, beef broth, cumin and chili powder. The default recipe. The meal that makes itself while I make miles. I ate it at the same truck stop in St. Joseph, Missouri, where the coffee is still bad and the pie is still worse and I still stop every time, because some things you do not change. Some things are comfort precisely because they do not change, and in a year where things are changing, where Larry is changing, where the kids are growing and the years are passing, the truck stop in St. Joseph is the same, and that sameness is a gift.

The enchiladas carried us through the chaos of that last school week, but I’m always rotating through my comfort food arsenal — and this pumpkin mac and cheese is one I come back to again and again when the house is loud and the week is long and I need something that feels like a hug on a plate. It’s creamy and rich the same way those enchiladas are, and Josie’s current no-cheese phase notwithstanding, it disappears fast every single time I make it. This one’s for the weeks when you need warmth with very little effort.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

12 oz elbow macaroni or cavatappi pasta
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup pumpkin puree (not pumpkin pie filling)
1 1/2 cups whole milk
4 oz cream cheese, softened and cubed
1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese, divided
1/2 cup shredded Gruyere or Monterey Jack cheese
1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more for pasta water
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)
Fresh thyme or chopped parsley, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water before draining. Drain and set aside.
Saute the garlic. In the same pot over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the minced garlic and cook, stirring, for about 1 minute until fragrant. Do not let it brown.
Build the sauce. Add the pumpkin puree and milk to the pot, whisking to combine. Bring to a gentle simmer over medium heat, stirring frequently.
Add the cream cheese. Drop in the cream cheese cubes and stir until fully melted and the sauce is smooth, about 2–3 minutes.
Melt in the shredded cheese. Reduce heat to low. Add 1 cup of the cheddar and all of the Gruyere (or Jack), stirring in a few handfuls at a time until completely melted. Season with salt, pepper, garlic powder, nutmeg, and cayenne if using.
Combine with pasta. Add the drained pasta to the sauce and stir to coat. If the sauce feels too thick, add reserved pasta water a splash at a time until you reach your desired consistency.
Finish and serve. Transfer to a serving dish or leave in the pot. Sprinkle the remaining 1/2 cup cheddar over the top. For a golden, bubbly top, transfer to an oven-safe dish and broil on high for 2–3 minutes until lightly browned. Garnish with fresh thyme or parsley if desired and serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pumpkin Mac and Cheese — The Comfort Food I Keep Coming Back To When Life Gets Loud