Oh, no she didn't!

Slate's Sara Dickerman goes after the New York Times for posting a recipe for "Crusty Macaroni and Cheese," which she finds to be an insult to her conception of this comfort food classic:

Whatever the explanation, something about the recipe looked off to me. It accompanied an article in which Julia Moskin, whose food reporting I greatly admire, detailed her search for the ideal macaroni and cheese: "Nothing more than tender elbows of pasta suspended in pure molten cheddar, with a chewy, golden-brown crust of cheese on top." A noble goal, certainly. (Kraft was probably trying to evoke something similar when it renamed the dish "cheese and macaroni" in the 1980s.) But Moskin's recipe has odd proportions: a whopping 24 ounces of cheese to a pound of pasta, with just a drizzling of milk to moisten the casserole.

Odd proportions? This so happens to be the same amount of pasta, cheese, and milk my mother has been using for her version of the dish since time immemorial (actually she would sometimes pumped up the cheese to 32 ounces, but that was only on special occasions). The only difference in the two recipes as far as I can tell is that instead of mixing the pasta and the cheese together my mother layered the two and added some crumbled cooked bacon to the shredded cheese as well.

Dickerman is aghast that a mac and cheese recipe should not include a bechamel sauce (or a roux, or just a plain ol' white sauce if you don't feel like speaking French), but this seems to be a case more of de gustibus non disputandum est than any sort of culinary violation. Generations of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese has brainwashed into thinking that creamy is the only way to go, but once upon a time the dish was a bubbly crusty casserole, and Moskin's "Crusty" recipe is a perfectly delectable rendition of this dish.

"Baked" Macaroni and Cheese, as we called it, was a required component of any holiday meal, alongside the main dish of roast pork loin and a side of green beans cooked with butter and bacon, a holy trinity of pig products that we even feasted upon for Thanksgiving dinner -- much to our embarassment as children but a continuing source of amusement for my brother and me as we inform our shocked friends and neighbors that we do not in fact eat turkey on this day of gluttonous conformity (my brother's poor ESL students can't understand why they must go out and buy and cook one of these giant birds if their native-born American teacher has never done so!).

My mother cooking days being behind her, I have stepped up to serve the all-purpose family holiday meal, and I'd like to think that I do it justice. Left to my own devices, I tend to gravitate towards the white sauce approach myself, or at the very least I swap the customary Cracker Barrel cheese (one word: gah!) for a nice sharp Cheddar from Cabot. However my all-time favorite mac and cheese is not my mother's -- fortunately she doesn't own a computer, so there's no chance of her learning this! -- but a variation involving smoked Gouda and kielbasa that my wife and I first had at a restaurant down in Atlanta, Georgia. After a couple of experiments I was successful in reverse-engineering it, and even cooked it for my mother when she came up to visit us last Christmas, along with the pork roast and green beans.

My brother (who once ran crying to Mom because I slipped some salsa into the taco meat as I browned it on the skillet) would not have approved of this tinkering with tradition, but fortunately he was home in Jersey. But if my mother had found fault with my turn on her old standby, she didn't say a word about it. She even had seconds!

For the record:

Baked Macaroni and Cheese (a la Helen Bruno nee Lewandowski)

1 pound elbow macaroni
4 Tb salted butter
24 oz. sharp Cheddar cheese, shredded (Mom prefers Cracker Barrel, but I go with Cabot)
1 package of bacon
2/3 cup milk

Boil the pasta as per instructions on the box; when cooked al dente drain and rinse with cold water to prevent overcooking. Meanwhile, cook the bacon in a skillet over medium heat until crispy and shred the cheese.

Preheat an oven to 400 degrees F. Butter a medium-sized deep dish casserole. Place a layer of macaroni just deep enough to cover the bottom of the casserole (approximately half the cooked pasta), then sprinkle half of the shredded cheese and crumbled bacon. Top with the remainder of the macaroni, then the rest of the cheese and bacon.

Baked uncovered at 400F for 45 minutes or until top is crusty and golden brown. Serve with roasted pork loin and green beans for an authentic Bruno feast.