One of the things that helps, when you live far away from your roots, your friends, your family and your culture, is occasionally splurging on things that remind you of home. Even things you know are ridiculous. I had one such splurge today, at lunch.
I first became acquainted with the famous Kraft Mac and Cheese as a very little girl. I came home from my friend Claire's house one afternoon and raved about Mrs. Verguson's macaroni and cheese. My mother, a wonderful cook (who was a Martha Stewart-in-training long before Martha was old enough to dream of her own empire) went to all the trouble of making a macaroni and cheese casserole from scratch, with four cheeses and everything. And I wouldn't touch it. Somewhat deflated by my less-than-enthusiastic reaction to her culinary masterpiece, my mother asked Mrs. Verguson for her recipe for mac and cheese.
To which Mrs. Verguson nearly wet herself laughing, before explaining to my poor mother that her "recipe" was Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, with the powdered fake orangy "cheese sauce", that me and her own daughter loved so much. I've been eating it ever since, although to be honest the past three or four years I basically stopped eating it because just didn't appeal to me anymore. I figured I had finally "outgrown" it at the age of 44 or so.
Or... have I? Today, I do not blush to say: I ate ALL of it. The whole pot full. By myself. I did not even offer to share it with the children or Georges. And it was delicious, even considering it cost about 4 times what it would have cost me to bring a box from home (which I forgot to do on my last trip). It may not "gourmet" but it sure tasted a little bit like home.
Hey, don't judge me harshly until you've walked in my cheesy shoes.
