After Three Decades, A Mac 'n' Cheese To Love.

When I was a kid in Charleston County's public school system, one of the mainstays of our lunches was macaroni and cheese. 

To be honest, I can’t attest to whether it was, indeed, "gross and raunchy," although I can testify to the fact that most servings returned, untouched, to the kitchen.  I can’t say the pasta was overcooked, although I can say I never identified a single, unbroken piece of macaroni.  I can’t say it was under-seasoned, but puh-leaze – it was served on a institutional green divided tray.  Need I say more?

Not one morsel of that thick-skinned, rubbery, squared-up hockey puck crossed my lips.  Not once.  Instead, I set off on a course of avoiding macaroni and cheese for over 30 years.  This, despite being born and raised in the South, where the ubiquitous casserole graces most everyone’s holiday dinner table, church potlucks, work picnics and post-funeral home visitations.

I’m not saying we never had mac and cheese growing up.  The Winn-Dixie on Harborview Road often had that familiar blue box (their generic version, not Kraft) on sale, four for a dollar.  Prepared with milk and Parkay margarine, it was a predictable sidedish (along with canned green beans) to canned Hostess ham.

However, as soon as I was old enough to get away with saying “no thank you,” which, honestly, wasn't until I was old enough to vote, I never let the stuff  -- blue-boxed or otherwise -- touch my plate.

Imagine my surprise, then, when my own Darling Daughter became a mac and cheese aficionado, frequently ordering it for dinner when we're out, and, based on friend’s recommendations, suggesting restaurants serving superior mac and cheese.

Adding to the pressure, Son recently told me he was assigned to bring mac and cheese (for 16) to Room In The Inn (a church-based program providing food and shelter to the homeless).  OK.  Maybe it wasn't exactly a sign from God, but it was plainly time to give the homely dish another try.

It took some work, though.  I didn’t know what I liked – custard-based (with eggs) or roux-based (with flour).  I just knew I didn’t want what I’d had.

Lucky for me, I had a partner in eating.  Darling Daughter was more than willing to explain what makes a good mac and cheese.  The pasta has to be “loose” – which meant a roux-based, not egg-based, sauce.  It can’t taste like too much cheese – which mean 100% extra sharp cheddar was out.  And it couldn’t be too brown on top – which is easily resolved with a bread crumb topping.

After a couple of attempts, though, we’ve come up with what we think is a pretty darned good mac and cheese.  So good, I’ve even had it for breakfast.  Twice.

And suddenly, I’m looking forward to the next church potluck.  Sign me up.

Darling Daughter’s Macaroni & Cheese

2 tablespoons flour

2 tablespoons butter

1/8 teaspoon red pepper flakes

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1 ½ cups milk

½ cup heavy cream

1 teaspoon whole grain Dijon mustard

½ lb. cheddar cheese (not extra sharp), grated

¼ lb. fontina or gouda cheese, grated

¾ lb. macaroni (about three cups)

¼ cup breadcrumbs

2 tablespoons butter, melted

¼ lb. pancetta, diced (optional)

Make sauce.  In medium saucepan, melt 2 tablespoons butter and flour together over medium heat, stirring constantly.  (You’re making a “roux.”)  When well-combined and somewhat thickened, flour will have lost its “raw” taste.  Stir in red pepper flakes and 1 teaspoon kosher salt.  Using a whisk, very gradually stir in milk, whisking constantly.  Stir in cream and mustard.  Cook over medium heat, stirring frequently, for about 5 minutes, or until well-thickened and velvety.  Whisk in grated cheese, stir until smooth, and remove from heat.

Cook pasta.  In a large pot of well-salted (about 1/4 cup salt to 8 cups of water) boiling water, cook macaroni until barely done (“al dente”).  Before draining, reserve about 1 cup of hot pasta water.  Quickly drain (for this dish, it’s best if the pasta is not drained very well), and stir into cheese sauce.  Use your judgment here.  If the pasta mixture isn't "loose" enough, stir in some of the reserved pasta cooking water.  The resulting mixture should be loose, not too sticky.

Assemble. Stir together topping ingredients – breadcrumbs, melted butter and pancetta (if using).  Pour macaroni and cheese into casserole dish (or 6 to 8 individual ramekins).  Use fingers to sprinkle topping over.  Bake in preheated 400 degree oven until hot and bubbling – about 30 minutes.

The Four Most Powerful Words In My Arsenal.

Hi.  I’m Cheri, and I have two cell phones.

No need for eye rolling.  I’m a stay-at-home mom, and being employer-free, I need only one phone. The other is – you guessed it – not mine.

I do pay for it, though.  It belongs to my teenaged son.  And I pay and I pay and I pay.

Sigh.  The days of enforced timeouts and early bedtimes and withheld cinnamon Teddy Grahams have long passed.  The most punitive words I can utter nowadays are “Hand me your phone.”

Hence, the overburdened electrical outlet in my room.  Son’s not been on top of his work – either at school or at home – so I’m charging for two.

Now, everyone who knows me, knows that I'm not afraid of being named, The Worst Mom Ever.  But this time, as deprived as Son feels, I may feel even more so.  I’ve become accustomed to being able to track him down at any time.  I’ll call when he’s visiting friends.  When random thoughts hit, I'll drop him a text, “Don’t forget you’ve got Scouts tonight!  Love, Mom.”  (More than once, the response has been, “U don’t have 2 sign ur name.  I no who u r.”)

I’ve even texted (although not necessarily proudly), “Dinner’s ready.  Come downstairs.”  Truth be known, that’s probably what I text the most.

But what else to do?  Although I’m enamored of the word, I’m not about to start flogging him.  Caning's out of the question, too.  Son's bigger than me.  And funnier.  The best leverage I’ve got is the phone.  So for now, it’s mine.  Unless, of course, I change my mind.

This past weekend, for example, Son needed a phone while babysitting.  Like so many households, the folks he was sitting for don't have a landline.  Son needed a phone, so I handed his over.

That night, after he returned home and had dutifully returned the phone to me, I received a surprising text on my phone, from the folks for whom Son had been babysitting.

“You have a wonderful son.  I hope my son grows up to be like him.”

I know.  My Son?  The kid whose phone I'm holding captive?  It would be like me to say something snarky.  But the truth is, that unexpected and touching text was almost powerful enough for me to forget Son's homework transgressions and return the beloved phone.  Almost.  'Cause he really is a good kid.  So.  No.  I think I'll keep cluttering my electrical outlet for a while -- at least until the school's progress reports come out.

In the meantime, though, maybe I can cut Son some slack.  Some.  And make one of his favorite meals.

Waffles of Insane Greatness are always a favorite.  Who doesn't adore breakfast for dinner?  Or perhaps, Pork Fried Rice.

Hands down, the favored food group Chez Wiles is pork.  (I shudder to think of the number of pork roast, sausage, bacon, prosciutto, pancetta recipes already included in Feminine Wiles!)  This crowd-pleaser comes together very quickly when you’ve got leftover pork.  Which we often do.  Along with a spare cell phone.  Or sometimes, two.

Pork Fried Brown Rice With Broccoli
Note that this recipe requires the rice to be cooked in advance and cooled.  I usually do it the night before.

1 cup raw brown rice, cooked in 2 ¼ cups chicken broth, and cooled

3 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
2 eggs, beaten

2 cloves garlic, minced
¼ teaspoon red pepper flakes
2 cups (approximately) broccoli flowerettes
2 tablespoons water

2 cups (about) leftover pork, cut in bitesize pieces
½ teaspoon toasted sesame oil
1-2 tablespoons soy sauce (or more to taste)
kosher salt
fresh ground pepper

In a large skillet (with a fitted lid) over medium-high heat, heat 1 tablespoon oil until hot and rippling.  Pour beaten eggs into skillet, and cook (without stirring) until firm.  Remove cooked eggs to a plate or cutting board, and cut into bitesize strips.  Set aside.  Heat one tablespoon of oil in skillet and quickly sauté broccoli, garlic and red pepper flakes, stir frying  3-4 minutes, or until very fragrant.  Stir in water and cook (lidded), until broccoli is tender-crisp and bright green.  Remove vegetables, which will be stirred in later.  Now sauté pork with remaining vegetable oil and sesame oil in same skillet over medium high heat, until slightly browned on the edges.  Stir in rice and continue sautéing another 3-5 minutes.  Gently toss in soy sauce and return vegetables and egg to pan, stirring carefully.  Season to taste with salt and pepper, or additional soy sauce.  Serve hot.

How Did You Find Me Here?

In the market for “Spiderman underwear for women”?

If so, you might ending up clicking on Feminine Wiles.

Looking for “ways to apologize to a Southern woman”?  Again, you could land on my blog.  Honest.  It’s been done.
Look. I’m no lingerie vendor.  (I do sometimes struggle to keep up with the laundry around here, but I’m certain no superheroes adorn our undergarments.  The washer is a comicbook-character-free zone -- no Betty or even Veronica.)

Apologies aren’t my forté, either.  The only advice I have to offer is that a genuine apology doesn’t include “but.”  (For example, “I’m sorry, but … you don’t understand/you took the wrong turn/what the hell were you thinking?”)

It’s not that I’m a technology-savvy blogger.  I’m not. Other than family and a few friends, I don’t really know who reads Feminine Wiles.  I don’t know everyone who subscribes to Feminine Wiles.  Some days, I don’t even know why I write Feminine Wiles.

But thanks to the supreme navel-gazing-for-bloggers web tracker, StatCounter.com, I can see what “keywords” a person Googled before landing on my blog.

Useless?  Utterly.  Entertaining?  Vastly.

Just imagine the disappointment of “had to use the ladies’ room” when she landed on a blog post about the temperature in my house.

And, to the folks (more than one!) who Googled “how to study for exams with mom” and ended up reading tidbits like, “Put cat in dryer,” I’m sorry.  (Please.  It’s not as if the dryer was on.)

Can I define “feminine wiles”?  Um.  Not really.  And that’s a real shame, because “feminine wiles” is the most-Googled phrase leading readers to my blog. I hate to disappoint, but well, I do.

Here’s another puzzler:  “I can be as good or as bad as I want to be.”  Really?  ‘Cause I think once you’ve come to terms with that essential truth, there’s no help my – or any --  blog can offer.

Really, if you’re coming to Feminine Wiles for any kind of help, the most I can offer is recipes.  I’m slogging through life and parenting and middle-age just like everyone else.  And sometimes, I can get bogged down in even the simplest things.

Take these Rosemary-Garlic Oven Fries, for example.  Once you master the cutting of potatoes, oven fries should be about the simplest thing in a cook’s repertoire.  But for some reason, I was never satisfied.  Not until, after endless variations, I started soaking the raw potatoes to rid them of extra starch, which I suspect had been sapping them of crispiness.

So when it comes to oven fries, problem solved. 

But when I look at “master stir fry in peru keep cats in basement, I haven’t the foggiest.  Thoughts?

Rosemary-Garlic Oven Fries

Note that you’ve got to begin these fries a solid hour in advance.

3 medium-sized baking potatoes, well scrubbed

1 teaspoon fresh rosemary, chopped

1 clove fresh garlic, minced

1 egg white

½ teaspoon kosher salt

additional kosher salt (or seasoning salt, such as Canvender’s Greek Seasoning) nonstick cooking spray

Cut potatoes (skin on) lengthwise into ½" wide fries.  Place in a large bowl of cold water and allow to soak for 45-60 minutes.   (The bath helps remove surface starch, resulting in crispier fries.)  Drain well, using a clean kitchen towel to pat dry and return potatoes to (dried) large bowl.

Preheat oven to 450.  In a small bowl, use a fork to whip egg white until very frothy.  Stir in rosemary, garlic and ½ teaspoon kosher salt into egg white.  Pour over potatoes, tossing until well-coated.

Spray baking sheet well with nonstick cooking spray.  Spread potatoes on baking sheet, so the fries are not touching.  Spray potatoes with additional nonstick cooking spray.  Sprinkle with additional salt and bake approximately 10 minutes.  Remove from oven, toss and turn fries, spray again lightly with nonstick spray before returning to oven for another 10-15 minutes, or until well browned.  Serve hot.