Dana Lake ‘23
Staff Editor
The difference between a chef and a cook, I learned this spring, is that a chef preps. Cooks just go for it. This has never been an issue for me before, as I am happy just being a cook. I firmly believe pre-chopping veggies and measuring out all the liquids ahead of time is a game for suckers and people with recipe blogs. Obviously, I think to myself every time I watch a perfectly-timed gif recipe, these people are not washing their own dishes. Am I really expected to use eight different tiny bowls to hold my spices? I’d rather starve.
I did not realize the enormous privilege built into this approach until April 2020. In Florida, I lived within walking distance of a grocery store. This is my ideal setup, because I love grocery shopping and hate planning out meals. I would spend my lunch break scrolling recipes on Pinterest and buy the ingredients on my way home. If I started cooking and realized I was missing something, I jogged over to the store and was home before the oven reached the right temperature. I was in the store about five times a week. This continued until April, when Florida went into full stay-at-home orders.
I am providing this background so you understand why, one fine spring evening, I started cooking dinner feeling absolutely no need to check that I had everything the recipe needed. By the time I remembered life was different now, it was far, far too late to change course.
Anyway, here is the worst macaroni and cheese recipe of your life.
● 1 pound shell pasta
● 2 cups shredded cheese
● 1/4 cup olive oil because you need fat to make a roux and swore to god you had an extra stick of butter in the freezer (you did not)
● 2 tbsp corn starch because all the stores were sold out of flour when you went back in March and the Internet insisted you could sub in cornstarch for flour on a 1:2 ratio
● 2 cups milk because you have plenty of milk for some reason
● 1 cup creamy Caesar salad dressing because you’re an idiot and thought the consistency was pretty close to heavy cream
● 1 tsp kosher salt
● 1 tsp black pepper
● 1/2 tablespoon mustard
● Vanilla Greek yogurt (for flavor)
Set a pot of water to boil, then cook pasta according to package directions.
Add olive oil to a heavy-bottomed pan. Heat on medium, gradually whisk in the corn starch. It’s not going to look good. Try to whisk until smooth. Go ahead, try.
Quickly add milk before the whole thing seizes into a brick. Continue furiously whisking.
Add creamy Caesar salad dressing and mix thoroughly. Regret using salad dressing instead of the vanilla-flavored Greek yogurt that was also in the fridge. Add a scoop of yogurt anyway; see if that helps smooth things out.
Add seasonings. Accept that you are fully committed to this meal.
Turn off the stove. Gradually add in the shredded cheese.
Fold in the cooked pasta. Hear a voice asking Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay to mould me man, did I solicit thee from darkness to promote me? You are alone in the house.
Feed your creation to your partner. Listen as he confesses he once made Kraft Macaroni with cream cheese in high school because he had no milk or butter. Accept his insistence that this is much worse. Offer no apologies.
Leave dishes in the sink to deal with tomorrow.
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dl9uh@virginia.edu