Ranch Macaroni and Cheese

Thanksgiving 2018. The first Thanksgiving without Marcus at the table. The first Thanksgiving with Shanice at the table. A subtraction and an addition in the same meal, the math of grief and hope calculated in place settings and serving sizes.

Shanice Carter is from Decatur, Alabama. She is a schoolteacher. She is quiet and warm. She walked into my kitchen Wednesday evening and the first thing she did was offer to help, which told me she was raised right. The second thing she did was eat a piece of my fried chicken with her hands and close her eyes on the first bite, which told me she was the one. I did not say this. A mother does not announce the verdict on the first visit. But I knew. The eyes closed. The hands held the chicken. The verdict was delivered.

I cooked the full Thanksgiving dinner. Everything. Turkey, ham, fried chicken, collard greens, mac and cheese, candied yams, cornbread dressing, potato salad, deviled eggs, sweet potato pie, pound cake, peach cobbler, banana pudding. The table groaned. It is supposed to groan. Calvin said grace — a long one, naming every person at the table and every person who should be at the table and is not. When he said Marcus's name, Shanice squeezed CJ's hand under the table, a small gesture that I saw because I see everything at my table, and the seeing told me she knew. CJ had told her. She knew about Marcus. She came to our table knowing, and the knowing did not keep her away, and the not-keeping-away is the bravest form of love I have witnessed in months.

Marcus's plate was set at his usual place. The tall blue glass. The candied yams at his end. Nobody sat there. Nobody mentioned it. Shanice looked at the plate once, quickly, and looked away, and in the looking and the looking away she honored it perfectly — she acknowledged it without questioning it, she saw it without staring, she understood without being told that some things at this table are sacred and untouchable and the empty plate is both.

We ate. We talked. We laughed — not as loudly as Thanksgivings past, not with the volume that Marcus brought to every meal, but we laughed. Destiny told a story about a professor at UAB. CJ told a story about a work project. Calvin told a story about a deacon who fell asleep during the sermon and snored so loud the choir stopped singing. We laughed. And the laughing was the first Thanksgiving laughing since last year, since the last full table, since before, and the laughing was proof that the table can hold both grief and joy in the same meal, that the food can carry both tastes at once, that the family can eat and mourn and celebrate and remember simultaneously, because that is what families do. They hold everything at once. That is what the table is for.

After dinner I wrapped Marcus's plate. I took it to the church. I gave it to a man sitting on the steps who was hungry. He ate it on the church steps in the November dark and he did not know whose plate it was. But I knew. And Marcus knew. And that was enough.

The mac and cheese is the dish I make without thinking, the one my hands know by heart, because it has been on every Thanksgiving table I have ever set. This year I made it the same way I always make it — the full pan, the three cheeses, the ranch seasoning Calvin swears is the secret — and I set a spoonful on Marcus’s plate the same as every year. Some recipes are not just food. Some recipes are a way of saying you are still here, you still have a place, this table still knows your name. This is that recipe.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 12

Ingredients

1 lb elbow macaroni
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 cups whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
1 packet (1 oz) dry ranch seasoning mix
8 oz cream cheese, softened and cubed
2 cups sharp cheddar cheese, freshly shredded
1 cup Colby Jack cheese, freshly shredded
1 cup Gruyère cheese, freshly shredded
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for pasta water
1 cup plain breadcrumbs
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted (for topping)
1/4 cup sharp cheddar, shredded (for topping)

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Grease a deep 9x13-inch baking dish and set aside.
Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of generously salted water to a boil. Cook the elbow macaroni 2 minutes less than the package directions (it will finish in the oven). Drain and set aside — do not rinse.
Build the roux. In a large heavy-bottomed saucepan or Dutch oven, melt 4 tablespoons butter over medium heat. Whisk in the flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 1 to 2 minutes until the mixture turns lightly golden and smells nutty.
Make the sauce base. Slowly pour in the whole milk and heavy cream, whisking continuously to prevent lumps. Cook over medium heat, stirring often, until the mixture thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon, about 5 to 7 minutes.
Season the sauce. Reduce heat to medium-low. Stir in the ranch seasoning mix, garlic powder, onion powder, black pepper, and salt. Add the cream cheese cubes and stir until fully melted and smooth.
Add the cheeses. Add the cheddar, Colby Jack, and Gruyère in three additions, stirring until completely melted between each addition. The sauce should be thick, glossy, and smooth.
Combine with pasta. Add the drained macaroni to the cheese sauce and fold together until every noodle is coated. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed.
Transfer to baking dish. Pour the mac and cheese into the prepared baking dish and spread it evenly.
Make the topping. In a small bowl, stir together the breadcrumbs and 2 tablespoons melted butter until the crumbs are evenly coated. Scatter the breadcrumbs over the top of the mac and cheese, then sprinkle with the remaining 1/4 cup shredded cheddar.
Bake. Bake uncovered for 25 to 30 minutes, until the topping is deep golden brown and the edges are bubbling. Let rest 10 minutes before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Ranch Macaroni and Cheese — Setting a Place for Everyone at the Table