White Cheddar Mac and Cheese with Roasted Tomatoes

Second Set the Table class. This week: pancakes and sausage patties. I chose pancakes because they require measuring (fractions! math in disguise!) and patience (wait for the bubbles before you flip) and they're forgiving — a lumpy pancake still tastes good. Monique made her first pancake and it looked like a map of Texas, which she announced proudly, and we all agreed that Texas-shaped pancakes taste better anyway.

Destiny brought her younger sister, Diamond, who is twelve and didn't say a word the entire two hours but ate four pancakes. I added her to the group. Seven girls now. Mama didn't come this week — she had a doctor's appointment — but she called afterward to ask how it went and I gave her a full debrief like she was my supervisor. She said, "Good. Next week: grits." I said, "I was thinking pasta." She said, "Grits." Grits it is. You don't negotiate with Brenda Jackson about grits.

At school, Marcus tried out for the basketball team. He didn't make it. He came home with the tight jaw and wet eyes of a boy who has just experienced his first real rejection and doesn't have the tools to process it yet. I didn't say, "It's okay." I said, "That hurts." He said, "Yeah." We sat on the couch and I didn't fix it because some things aren't fixable and teaching your child that you'll sit with them in the unfixable is more valuable than pretending it doesn't hurt. After a while he said, "Can we have mac and cheese?" I said yes. I made the good mac and cheese — Mama's recipe, three cheeses, baked — because mac and cheese is the edible equivalent of a hug and my son needed a hug he could hold in his hands.

Jasmine had a different week. She came home Tuesday with a permission slip for the school talent show. She wants to sing. My quiet, bookish, nine-year-old Jasmine wants to stand on a stage and sing. I signed the permission slip so fast the ink smeared. She's been practicing "Halo" by Beyoncé in her room with the door closed, and I stand in the hallway and listen and she sounds like angels, and I am not being a biased mother — I am being a trained soprano who knows good pitch when she hears it. This child has been hiding a gift in her throat and it just came out.

Daddy came to dinner again on Saturday. He's making it a regular thing, I think — Saturday dinner at Tamika's, away from the house where Mama is sleeping more than she's awake. We don't talk about that. We eat. I made baked pork chops this week — not fried, not smothered, baked with a brown sugar and mustard glaze that I found in a magazine and adapted with Mama's seasoning. Curtis ate two and said, "These are different." I said, "Good different?" He said, "Different." Which, from Curtis Jackson, could mean anything. But he ate two. That's the real review.

Curtis eating two of those pork chops and still refusing to commit to a compliment had me laughing into the dish towel after he left — that man has been the same his entire life. But there’s something about feeding people who show up, about having a table that people want to come back to, that makes me want to cook something that feels like a hug. White cheddar mac and cheese with roasted tomatoes is that dish for me — rich and a little fancy, but still unmistakably home. Here’s how I make it.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 40 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 lb elbow macaroni or cavatappi
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
Salt and black pepper to taste
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
3 cups whole milk, warmed
1 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 1/2 cups sharp white cheddar, freshly shredded
1 cup Gruyere, freshly shredded
1/2 cup fontina, freshly shredded
1/2 cup panko breadcrumbs
2 tablespoons butter, melted (for topping)
1/4 cup sharp white cheddar, extra (for topping)

Instructions

Roast the tomatoes. Preheat oven to 400°F. Toss cherry tomatoes with 1 tablespoon olive oil, salt, and pepper on a small baking sheet. Roast 15–18 minutes until blistered and jammy. Set aside. Reduce oven to 375°F.
Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil. Cook pasta 2 minutes less than package directions (it will finish in the oven). Drain and toss with remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil to prevent sticking.
Build the roux. In a large heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat, melt butter. Whisk in flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 2 minutes until it smells nutty and turns light golden.
Make the cheese sauce. Slowly pour in the warm milk and cream, whisking constantly to prevent lumps. Cook over medium heat, stirring often, until thickened enough to coat the back of a spoon, about 5–7 minutes. Season with garlic powder, smoked paprika, cayenne, salt, and pepper.
Melt in the cheeses. Remove the pan from heat. Add the white cheddar, Gruyere, and fontina in three additions, stirring until each addition is fully melted and smooth before adding the next.
Combine. Fold the drained pasta into the cheese sauce until evenly coated. Gently fold in the roasted tomatoes. Pour the mixture into a greased 9x13-inch baking dish.
Top and bake. Combine panko, melted butter, and the extra 1/4 cup white cheddar in a small bowl. Scatter evenly over the mac and cheese. Bake at 375°F for 20–25 minutes until the topping is golden and the edges are bubbling.
Rest before serving. Let the dish sit for 5 minutes before scooping. This helps it set and makes it easier to serve in generous, hold-worthy portions.

Nutrition (per serving)

White Cheddar Mac and Cheese with Roasted Tomatoes — The Hug You Can Hold in Your Hands