Vegetarian Pasta Recipes — The Three-Cheese Mac That Made Earl Cry at the Church Potluck

The garden gave me the first Cherokee Purple of the season this week. June isn't here yet, but the Savannah heat doesn't care about calendars — it came early this year, the way it does sometimes, and the tomatoes responded like they'd been waiting for permission. The tomato was heavy in my hand, that deep, almost-black purple at the shoulders fading to red at the bottom, still warm from the vine. I stood in the garden holding it and I said, "Thank you," because you should always thank the thing that feeds you, whether it's a vine or a person or a memory.

Tomato sandwich. Immediately. White bread — the soft kind, the kind nutritionists hate and grandmothers love — thick slice of Cherokee Purple, Duke's mayonnaise (the only mayonnaise, I will fight you), salt, and black pepper. I ate it standing at the counter with the juice running down my wrist and I did not care. Some foods require a plate and a napkin and proper comportment. A tomato sandwich requires only hunger and gratitude.

Kayla came over Wednesday evening. She's settling into married life the way she settles into everything — competently, warmly, without drama. She and Devon have a rhythm now: he works day shifts at the fire station, she works rotating shifts at Memorial, and they overlap enough to cook dinner together three or four nights a week. She told me Devon is learning to make cornbread. "In the cast iron?" I asked. "In a baking pan," she said. I was quiet. "Granny," she said, "not everyone has a hundred-year-old skillet." "Everyone should," I said. She sighed. We agreed to disagree, which is what we say when I'm right and she knows it.

The wedding planning for Monique is accelerating. Denise has added a second folder. This concerns me. One folder is organization. Two folders is obsession. The ceremony will be at the community center — Monique wanted something less formal than a church wedding, which surprised Denise and didn't surprise me at all. Monique has always done things her own way, like her grandmother, which Denise doesn't say out loud but which everyone can see.

I'm testing recipes. This week: three-cheese mac and cheese, the one James loves. Sharp cheddar, gruyere, and a little Velveeta — yes, Velveeta, and I will not apologize. The Velveeta is what makes it creamy. The sharp cheddar is what makes it real. The gruyere is what makes it fancy. Together they make a mac and cheese that has ended arguments, healed grudges, and made at least one grown man cry at a church potluck. That man was Earl. He was not ashamed.

Now go on and feed somebody.

I’ve been tinkering with this mac and cheese for weeks now, dialing in the ratios before Monique’s wedding locks in a final menu — and after James declared the latest batch “the best thing I’ve put in my mouth since Easter,” I figured it was time to write it down properly. The Velveeta stays. I will not be taking questions. If it was good enough to make Earl weep at the First Baptist potluck, it is good enough for a wedding, and it is good enough for your table tonight.

Three-Cheese Mac and Cheese

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 10–12

Ingredients

• 1 lb 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 gruyere cheese, freshly shredded
• 4 oz Velveeta, cubed
• 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
• 1/2 cup sharp cheddar, extra, for topping
• 1/2 cup plain breadcrumbs (optional, for topping)
• 1 tablespoon butter, melted (for breadcrumb topping, optional)

Instructions

1. Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Butter a 9x13-inch baking dish and set aside.
2. Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil. Cook the elbow macaroni 2 minutes less than package directions — it will finish cooking in the oven. Drain and set aside.
3. Make the roux. In a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven, melt the 4 tablespoons of butter over medium heat. Whisk in the flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 1 to 2 minutes until the mixture smells faintly nutty and turns pale gold.
4. Build the sauce. Slowly pour in the warm milk and heavy cream, whisking continuously to prevent lumps. Raise the heat to medium-high and continue whisking until the sauce thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon, about 5 to 7 minutes.
5. Melt in the cheeses. Reduce heat to low. Add the Velveeta cubes first, stirring until fully melted and smooth. Then add the shredded gruyere and 2 cups of sharp cheddar in two or three additions, stirring between each until completely incorporated. Add the dry mustard, garlic powder, onion powder, cayenne, salt, and black pepper. Taste and adjust seasoning.
6. Combine. Add the drained macaroni to the cheese sauce and stir until every noodle is thoroughly coated. Pour the mixture into the prepared baking dish and spread evenly.
7. Top and bake. Scatter the remaining 1/2 cup of shredded sharp cheddar over the top. If using the breadcrumb topping, toss the breadcrumbs with the melted tablespoon of butter and sprinkle over the cheese. Bake uncovered for 25 to 30 minutes, until bubbling at the edges and golden on top.
8. Rest before serving. Let the mac and cheese rest for 5 to 10 minutes before serving. This helps it set up and makes it easier to scoop. Do not skip this step. I know it is hard. Do it anyway.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 480 | Protein: 19g | Fat: 26g | Carbs: 44g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 560mg