Slow Cooker Mac and Cheese

Valentine's Day dinner. I made the shrimp and grits — the real version, not the practice version. Bought the biggest shrimp Kroger had, made the grits with extra butter and extra cheese, fried the bacon crisp. I set the table with actual placemats, which we own but never use because placemats are for company and Connie and I are not company, except tonight we were.

Clay was at Tyler's (I may have offered him twenty dollars to not be home, which Connie calls bribery and I call resource allocation). The house was quiet. I put on the old country station — Patsy Cline, Tammy Wynette, the music that was always playing in Betty's kitchen — and I cooked. The kitchen smelled like garlic and bacon and butter, which are the three building blocks of any meal worth eating and approximately half the reason I'm alive.

Connie came downstairs in a nice blouse and earrings, which is Connie's version of dressed up, and I was wearing a clean flannel, which is my version. We sat at the kitchen table and ate shrimp and grits and drank white wine that she picked because I don't know wine and she pretends to. We talked about things married people talk about at twenty-five years: the kids, the house, the plan, the lack of plan. She asked if I was happy. I said yes. She asked if there was anything I wanted. I said Harlan County. She said "I know."

She knows I want to go back. I haven't pushed it because the time isn't right — Clay's in school, my job is in Lexington, the money isn't there. But the want is there, and it grows every year like a vine on a wall, quiet and persistent and impossible to ignore. Connie doesn't want to go back to Harlan County. She grew up in Richmond, not coal country, and Harlan is beautiful to visit and hard to live in. But she said "When the time is right, we'll talk about it." That's not a yes. It's not a no. It's a door left open, and I'll take a door left open.

After dinner, we sat on the couch and watched an old movie — something with Paul Newman, because Connie has a thing for Paul Newman and I have a thing for Connie being happy. She fell asleep on my shoulder by nine o'clock. I didn't move. The movie played. The house was warm. My wife was asleep on my shoulder and the shrimp and grits were in the fridge and the dishes could wait and this was Valentine's Day: not chocolate and roses and grand gestures, but a clean flannel and a dinner I made and the weight of a sleeping woman who chose me twenty-five years ago and keeps choosing me. That'll do.

Now, shrimp and grits were the star that night — that’s a fact and I stand by it. But if you’re going to set the table with actual placemats and put Patsy Cline on the radio, you need a side that carries its weight. This slow cooker mac and cheese is what I make when the meal has to feel like something — butter, cheese, and patience, which is about all I’ve got to offer on a good day. It’s the kind of dish that sits next to the main event and doesn’t ask for attention but gets it anyway, not unlike a woman who falls asleep on your shoulder by nine and somehow makes that the best part of the whole evening.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 2 hours 30 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 45 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 pound elbow macaroni, cooked and drained
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into pieces
2 cups sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
1 cup mild cheddar cheese, shredded
1/2 cup Velveeta, cubed
1 can (12 ounces) evaporated milk
1 cup whole milk
2 large eggs, beaten
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon dry mustard powder
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon paprika

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Boil the elbow macaroni according to package directions until just al dente — about one minute short of the recommended time. Drain well.
Prep the slow cooker. Grease the inside of a 4- to 6-quart slow cooker with butter or nonstick spray.
Combine the wet ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the evaporated milk, whole milk, beaten eggs, salt, pepper, mustard powder, garlic powder, and paprika until smooth.
Layer it up. Add the cooked macaroni to the slow cooker. Scatter the butter pieces, sharp cheddar, mild cheddar, and Velveeta cubes over the pasta. Pour the milk mixture evenly over everything.
Stir gently. Give it all a careful stir to distribute the cheese and liquid throughout the pasta.
Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on low for 2 to 2-1/2 hours, stirring once at the halfway point. The mac and cheese is done when the edges are golden, the center is creamy, and the cheese is fully melted.
Rest and serve. Turn off the slow cooker and let it sit uncovered for 10 minutes to thicken slightly. Stir once more and serve warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Slow Cooker Mac and Cheese — The Other Side of Southern Comfort