Roasted Cauliflower Mac and Cheese

New Year. I called Lourdes at midnight Alaska time. She picked up on the second ring. She had been awake. She always picks up at midnight. She said, "Salamat sa Diyos." I said, "Yes, Mama, thanks be to God." The matriarch was the bell that rang the year.

Lourdes is 74. She is in the kitchen. She is luminous. Joseph and Suki sent photos of the kids this week.

I made tinola Sunday. The chicken-ginger soup, the body-warming dish. The body wanted it.

I skipped the blog this week. Some weeks the kitchen is enough.

I read for forty minutes before sleep. The reading was the small surrender. The surrender was the rest.

The Anchorage sky was the Anchorage sky. The mountains were the mountains. The inlet was the inlet. The geography was the geography.

I cleaned the kitchen Sunday afternoon. I wiped the stove. I scrubbed the sink. I reorganized the spice cabinet. The cleaning was the small reset. The reset was the marker. The marker said: the week is over, the next week begins, the kitchen is ready.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

I made coffee at six AM. The coffee was the start. The start was always the same.

The grocery store had no calamansi. I substituted lime. The substitution was acceptable. The acceptable is the working version of perfect.

I drove the Glenn Highway out to Eklutna on Saturday. The mountains were the mountains. The lake was the lake. The body needed the open road. The open road did its work.

I read a chapter of a novel before bed each night this week. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The novel was good. The novel was, in some way, my own life adjacent.

Lourdes called me twice this week. The first call was about a church event. The second was about a recipe variation she had remembered from her childhood. The remembering was the gift.

The light was good Saturday morning. I sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched the inlet for forty minutes. The watching was the small therapy. The therapy was free.

Auntie Norma called Sunday afternoon. She is now seventy-nine. She wanted a recipe. I gave it to her. She wanted to know how my week was. I told her, briefly. She told me about her week. The exchange took eighteen minutes. The eighteen minutes was the keeping.

The salmon in the freezer is from August. Joseph's catch. The bag is labeled in his handwriting — "for Grace." I will use it next week.

I sat on the balcony in the cold for ten minutes Sunday night with a cup of broth in my hands. The cold was the cold. The broth was the broth. The body held both.

The break room had cake Tuesday. Someone's birthday. We ate the cake. We did not ask whose birthday. The cake was the cake.

The neighbors invited us over for a small dinner Thursday. They are an Iñupiaq family — Aana and her grandson Joe. We ate caribou stew and rice. I brought lumpia. The kitchens of Anchorage have always been the small UN. The food is the proof.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced the Saturday gathering. I will be on lumpia duty. I am always on lumpia duty.

A reader from New Jersey wrote in about her grandmother's adobo, which used pineapple. I had never heard of pineapple in adobo. I tried it. It was strange. It was also good. The strange and the good are not opposites.

Tinola was the thing I made for myself that Sunday — the thing the body asked for. But the recipe I keep coming back to when I want that same feeling of a kitchen doing its work, something roasted and warm and uncomplicated, is this one. Roasted cauliflower mac and cheese is not Filipino, but it lives in the same register: it is body food, reset food, the kind of thing you make when you have cleaned the stove and scrubbed the sink and you want the kitchen to reward you for it. Auntie Norma asked me for a recipe that week, and this is the one I almost gave her.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 large head cauliflower, cut into small florets
2 tablespoons olive oil
Salt and black pepper, to taste
12 oz elbow macaroni or cavatappi
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 1/2 cups whole milk, warmed
1 1/2 cups sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
1/2 cup Gruyère cheese, shredded
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon dry mustard powder
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 cup panko breadcrumbs
1 tablespoon butter, melted (for breadcrumbs)

Instructions

Roast the cauliflower. Preheat oven to 425°F. Toss cauliflower florets with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Spread in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet and roast 22–25 minutes, turning once halfway, until edges are deeply golden and tender.
Cook the pasta. While cauliflower roasts, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until just al dente. Drain and set aside. Reduce oven temperature to 375°F.
Make the béchamel. In a large saucepan over medium heat, melt 3 tablespoons butter. Whisk in flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 1 minute. Gradually pour in warm milk, whisking continuously to prevent lumps. Cook, stirring, until the sauce thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon, about 5–6 minutes.
Add the cheese. Remove saucepan from heat. Stir in cheddar and Gruyère a handful at a time until fully melted. Add garlic powder, mustard powder, and smoked paprika. Season generously with salt and pepper.
Combine and transfer. Fold the cooked pasta and roasted cauliflower into the cheese sauce until evenly coated. Pour into a lightly greased 9x13-inch baking dish and spread into an even layer.
Top and bake. Toss panko breadcrumbs with melted butter and scatter evenly over the top. Bake at 375°F for 18–20 minutes, until the top is golden and the edges are bubbling. Let rest 5 minutes before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Roasted Cauliflower Mac and Cheese — The Kitchen Ready for What Comes Next