Macaroni and cheese: a symbol of love
It’s true: macaroni and cheese is more than a yummy calorie-laden food option. The delectable casserole, drenched in cheese and butter, transcends food, rising to the giddy heights of symbolism. Its gooey, golden essence contains love, family, and Southern tradition.
My playwriting colleague identified macaroni and cheese as “the queen of comfort food.’” Indeed. All of us, in every culture, have foods that trigger contentment and happy memories. Some of those happy memories can be bittersweet; whenever I make my mother’s recipe for macaroni and cheese, I pull out her hand-written recipe card. I see her specific instructions in her own handwriting, and that provides a joyful feeling of connecting with family even as her death, long ago, makes her presence felt via her absence.
Still, the rare times I make my mother’s macaroni and cheese dish—typically, during the November-December holiday season—I am thankful for my mother, her fabulous recipe, and the on-going tradition of great Southern cooking. Although I myself am not a particularly good cook, I will admit that whenever it’s time to make a dish for a pot-luck holiday party, I often hear the request: “Will you make your mama’s macaroni and cheese?” Glad to.
I have just returned from visiting cousins (on my paternal side) in South Carolina, and, as usual, I was blessed to be the recipient of a huge batch of—truthfully—the world’s best macaroni and cheese. I am not exaggerating when I say I ate it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, among other fine Southern food, of course. Joyce, my cousin David’s wife, made the dish for me; her generous act of cooking makes me feel included and welcomed. How lovely it was for me when I enjoyed a lunch with my cousin Jane, who shared her own memories of my mother; so few people I know now knew my mother.
Shakespeare had Sir Henry Guildford greet guests with these words: “. . . good company, good wine, good welcome, can make good people.” (Henry VIII, I, iv). Probably “good macaroni and cheese” was in the first draft of Guildford’s welcome but had to be sacrificed for the sake of the iambic pentameter. But the sentiment is true enough: all cultures know that the warmth generated by such a convivial celebration “can make good people.”
In the Thanksgiving month of November, many Americans reflect on aspects of their lives for which they can be grateful. For me, eating the delicious golden melted blend of cheese, butter, and pasta is something beyond mere food. Joyce’s macaroni and cheese becomes a celebration of family and love.
