Cheese Sauce

One could argue that all artists are heavily influenced by great mentors. Figures who guide through the journey that ultimately leads the artist to tremendous success and fortune. Aristotle had Plato, Rocky had Mickey, and I have Babs.

Babs is a petite Italian women from Southwest Philadelphia. Although she looks innocent, she has honed the talent to strike the fear of God into anyone, from children to grown men, with one terrifying look.



She is also my mother.



After about a week of a delirious craving for ooey gooey Mac & Cheese, I decided to finally do something about it. An impostor sample of what Wegman's called "Mac & Cheese" was greasy and tasteless in my mouth. I felt cheap and used afterwords. Thankfully Babs, who is also a superb chef, agrees to aid in my quest to prepare the classic dish. When I say "aid" I really mean that she will supervise my activity so that I don't injure myself and more importantly, destroy her immaculate kitchen.


You should know, that the recipe Babs uses is very unique and difficult to for the average person to follow. Recognizing that I am not of this culinary intellect, Babs finds me an alternative recipe on BettyCrocker.com. Can't go wrong with Betty... or Babs.


Family-Favorite Macaroni & Cheese
*NOTE: I advise following this recipe, and not relying on my ill perceived version.

Necessary components

If you can read, you can follow this recipe. If you are literate and can follow the directions in order, you've got the gold medal. For those of you who need further proof; I managed to get through this recipe with an edible dish. Satisfied? 


Milk is needed for this entree. Apparently unaware of this, I used the last bit of the ration for my delicious bowl of Total that morning. Yes, I'm still eating cereal at an unrealistic rate, but kicking the habit is a process. Just like Promises rehab is for famous people, it should take about 3 days. I'm what some may call the Lindsay Lohan of the General Mills fix.


Giant is less populated than Wegman's, but equally as terrifying. I decide to make it quick and grab a pint of store-brand skim milk. I have a love/hate relationship with grocery stores. Love what they stand for, but am uncomfortable with how much work is involved in the trip. Coupons, aisles, deli counters, teenagers who can't bag properly and crush your potato chips, shopping carts, and ugh, the dreaded self-checkout. Few have conquered the self-checkout and live to tell the tale. 

Al dente macaroni

Returning home, I find that Babs has already cooked the macaroni. It seems she knew there was a decent chance I'd screw up this task and took the liberty of pretty much guaranteeing herself a decent meal that night.


With the macaroni step out of the way, Babs instructs me to start on the homemade cheese sauce. This is tricky, as it requires the skills of attention and preparation. Both of which I do not have, but that's why I have a coach.

Boring butter

Using a medium saucepan, I melt a stick of butter, which is about as entertaining as watching your boyfriend play StarCraft. Next, add the salt, paper, mustard and Worcestershire sauce, (what a fun word to say!). Combine over medium heat, and continue to stir occasionally. I bring the mixture to a boil while adding the milk and stir for about a minute. Then the fun part; go for it and dump a bag of shredded cheddar cheese like your candy-filled pillow case on Halloween. Let go and gaze at mouthwatering concoction. If society approved I would end it right here and suck the sauce through a straw, right from the saucepan. Fortunately, Babs has brought me up with a touch of class. I opt to licking the spoon.


In it's designated bowl, the cooked macaroni waits for its baptism of the Holy Cheese. Fold in the mixture until it is equally dispersed throughout the dish. At this point, things look bland and uncomfortably orange. Paprika is the icing on the cake. A few sprinkles of this magic in a bottle and the mac & cheese looks somewhat appetizing.

Mac & Cheese after the Paprika makeover.

Bake at 350 degrees for 20-25 minutes, or until "bubbly" according to the Crocker folks. Top-layer crunch preference is an element that should be handled with care. This is vital, as sogginess is never appealing and too much bite can resemble the consistency of stale gum.


Babs, close friends, and especially myself were shocked when I actually made this dish and it tasted good. "Good" being defined as that a) It tasted close to what it was intended to taste like, b) The kitchen remained char-free, and c) I didn't cry.
There may be a glimmer of hope for me after all.


*Special thanks to the infamous Babs for her supervision and patience.

And the nominees are...

My top favorite recipes; that I will attempt to make. Easier said than done. Suggestions are welcomed and encouraged, as this is a work in progress.

Please disregard the multiple meatballs.

Spaghetti & Meatball- Not meatballs, meatball. We’re an obese nation. No need to be greedy. A classic, yummy dish. Everyone loves it; kids, adults, even the elderly who are missing a few teeth can happily gum this one away. Goes good with bread. I love bread. Hands-down, it’s a winner.

Meatloaf- Another solid dish. Awesome leftovers for lunch the next day. Filling, and by the looks of it, fun to make. Kind of reminds me of molding play-dough.

Macaroni & Cheese- The good kind, with real cheese (not that orange garbage) and that’s baked in the oven. Hot, melty, goodness…. Mmmm. Need I say more?

Tacos- Who doesn’t love Taco Night?! Honestly, nothing excites me more than a tower of carbs, meat, sour cream, and the coveted GUACAMOLE. Heaven on a plate. On a side note: for those of you who do know how to use a skillet properly and are laughing at the idea that I do not, ... are not very nice.

Wow.

Chocolate Chip Cookies- This is the absolute BEST treat ever, in my opinion. My pallet could just faint over the scent of these bad boys. Farewell, skin graphs.

Stir Fry- I figured I should try to create something un-American. In other words, I’ll attempt to make an Americanized Asian dish of some kind

There are no pretty pictures of Shepherd's Pie.

Shepherd’s Pie- I’m Irish. We like meat and potatoes. And beer. I’m pretty sure if you could bake beer and eat it, that would be Ireland’s signature dish.

I cook, therefore I am.

I enter Wegman’s with exuberant confidence. I feel like Mufasa in The Lion King as he takes his place on Pride Rock. I march into the store as shoppers hastily rush past me with “Get the @!$%* out of my way!” written on their faces. Parents beg their children to stop whining. Tiny arms decorated with neon Silly Bandz dangle from shopping carts.

Your typical supermarket. Just add a battlefield
of shopping carts and screaming kids.

My eyes feast upon the sea of golden corn, cannon sized watermelon, and fresh fish, I feel the panic settle in. 

I migrate to the safety of a pillar of Red Delicious apples and stand awkwardly, as if I’m looking for just-the right piece of fruit. Three minutes in and I’m already feeling defeated.

I notice the sanctuary of the coffee bar and wander over. I stand behind an older woman who just can’t decide on which flavor of gelato to order. “They all look so GOOD!” she says obnoxiously as a tired acne stricken teenager looks at nothing in particular. After trying about seven flavors and at least three minutes, she settles on (drum roll) Vanilla. Gelato Lady shuffles on and I finally place my order. 

“I’ll have a tall Green Tea Chai latte, with skim milk.” I say as maturely as possible. I want others around me to know that I drink Green Tea, which obviously makes me more sophisticated than everyone else. Teenager hands me my drink. It is delicious. My mind goes back to the mission I came here for.  

I find my way to the ready-to-cook section, an arena of average, high in sodium, meals that are perfect for those “on the go” families. My eyes examine the mediocre-looking mac ‘n cheese, various quiches, fillets of salmon, flounder, and meatloaf. You just pop it in the oven! Genius! These adorable portions would definitely take longer to put together than cereal, but if melted cheese is part of the reward I don’t mind the wait. Maybe I can catch up on some Shark Week while my meal makes itself.

On-the-go meals! Perfect for the high sodium addict!

No, wait, I came here with the intention of cooking, and cooking does not constitute buying something that needs some heating up. I can do this. OK, so I’m feeling a hankering for fish and a veggie, let’s see. How do you even cook a fish? Do you have to scale it? That sounds unfun. I think I'd rather rip a band-aid off 100 times then scale a fish. What happens to their eyes? Then I notice that Wegman’s does not sell actual whole fish right out of the sea, but they do have dainty-looking fillets. Whew! I’m relieved that I don’t have to perform any major surgery on a water creature today.

Shelves stocked with colorful fruits, wedges of cheese, leafy vegetables, and breads distract me from my buzzing thoughts. Whatever. I’ll just grab asparagus and some kind of inexpensive fillet and peace out. I can season it with olive oil, herbs, bacon, paprika, or ...something. I’ll Google it when I get home. I reluctantly head over to the seafood section that smells more like a slow death than a place someone should be selecting a meal from.

I approach the counter where my eyes meet a stocky, sheepishly looking middle-aged man who looks like he’s had just about enough. A child screams in the background. We both sigh.

“Hi!” I say in my most upbeat tone. “I’m looking for something tasty to cook for dinner tonight. What’s your freshest catch?” 

The employee peers at me from beneath his “W” monogrammed forest green baseball cap, as if I’m joking. He does not look amused.

If you aren't a Disney kid,
this is the beloved Flounder.

“Uh, well, we have these ready-to-cook entrees, the flounder is popular.”

“Yea, that sounds OK, but I want something I can like, throw in a pan, sear, and serve on a plate with some veggies, and maybe even add a touch of parsley, just for decoration, or course.”

A blank stare.

“Uh, ...OK, I’ll take the flounder you suggested.”

The man slowly grabs a fillet, and places the sad-looking item in a container, prints the label, and hands me the package, all without breaking his curious glance.

I politely say, “Thanks so much for your help!” and flash my biggest, cheesiest smile. 

Great, now I have a piece of raw fish, already stuffed with crab meat and seasoned, that I didn’t prepare. I suck at this.

The sushi section catches my eye as I’ve had many successful visits there. I tell ya, the Japanese have it down. All they do is chop up some fish, that’s not even COOKED, roll it in rice and avocado, which tastes good with ANYTHING, and make it look pretty on a plate with some ginger shavings. No heating involved. My kind of meal.

The little rolls and sashimi look so cozy in their plastic containers! Faux flats of grass line their beds. I settle on a spicy tuna roll with brown rice, but not before digging to the bottom of the trays to find the freshest batch. No one’s playing this girl. A container of vegetable dumplings completes my order.

Store-bought sushi.

“This is just an afternoon snack.” I assure myself.

I hit up the register with my purchases: 1 already prepared stuffed flounder fillet, 1 spicy tuna roll, 1 package of vegetable dumplings, Cystal Light, and Orbit. $23.47.Mission accomplished. Sort of.

How to "Cook" Already Prepared Food

I open the door to our over 27-year-old fridge. This thing is like the Dumbledore of our appliances. I place my prepared food items on the fridge, a little sloppily, and scope the rest of the contents for a treat.

What up Big D?

Nothing impresses me so I head for the pantry. Ooo!!! Vienna Fingers! I dig two out of the cookie jar (about 25-years old and our version of Minerva McGonagall). I plop down on the couch and look for Shark Week reruns. No such luck so I settle on, sigh, Oprah.

Six o'clock rolls around too quickly.

I hop off the couch and skip to the fridge like a kindergartner. I open Dumbledore and survey my purchases from earlier that day: 1 spicy tuna roll, 1 package of vegetable dumplings, and 1 already prepared stuffed flounder fillet. Awesome. I place the items on the counter and stare at them with the concentration of a chess player in a championship. The only difference being those guys are busy plotting a precisely coordinated move and my mind is as empty Jessica Simpson’s.

Flounder with plastic removed.

I take out the flounder fillet and set the oven to 400 degrees as the directions state. I briefly think, “Maybe I can just deconstruct this thing, and reconstruct it. Like, literally unroll it, take the crab meat out, maybe sprinkle some salt, pepper, and paprika on it, and wrap it right back up. I can say I did it all myself, no one has to know...” The Catholic guilt moves over me like a black cloud. I continue my mission that I’ve already pretty much failed.

The only other directions state to take the plastic off the container; apparently you can cook the entrée in its store-bought package. Not much different than a Lean Cuisine. So, for those who may need reemphasis, REMOVE PLASTIC WRAP FROM CONTAINER AND DISCARD.

Sad sushi.

The spicy tuna roll and dumplings lay sappily in their temporary homes. I decide that the dumplings would probably taste better warm, like how you get them in a restaurant, but there are no directions indicating to do so. I decide to improvise. I break out the skillet and set the stove to medium/low. While I wait for the pan to heat up, I take the tuna roll out of it’s nook and attempt to make it look pretty on a plate. Unfortunately, it looked better in the plastic container with fake grass.

By this time, the oven is preheated so I shove in the flounder and set the timer for the suggested 30 minutes. “Good luck comrade.” I give a tiny salute.

Depressed dumplings.

After getting myself a Coke Zero and standing around for a while, I remember that I wanted to heat up my dumplings. I free them of their plastic cell and throw them onto the skillet. The sizzling indicates that the pan is indeed hot, as far as I can conclude. I watch them for a bit.

With Coke Zero in hand; miraculous stuff, by the way, I could just kiss whoever invented it. I check on my dumplings. Tongs serve as my tool of choice as I awkwardly shuffle them around on the pan. They look depressed. 

I get out the necessary utensils and set the table. Doesn’t look half-bad. I’m almost impressed with myself.

The timer goes off and I check on the flounder. I squint my eyes suspiciously as I poke at it with a knife like a nervous 9th grader examines his frog cadaver in biology class. A little hesitant, as if the fish is suddenly going to come to life and smack me in the face.

I conclude that the fish is done, maybe and nestle it on a plate. Surprisingly, it doesn’t look as pathetic as it did when I adopted him from Wegman’s. The sushi is patiently waiting in the fridge; I take it out and place it on the table.

Sushi on a plate. Still sad.

With a few more sizzles, and my dumplings look brown with crispiness appeal. I turn off the stove and welcome these guys to a dish as well. After everything is organized on the table, I survey my creation. I didn’t actually do anything. I am moderately disappointed in myself as a) all I did was reheat store-bought meals and b) I had trouble figuring out which burner to turn on. I have a long way to go, but I get over it as soon as I pop a piece of sushi into my mouth. The meal is satisfying even more so that I managed to get everything together just in time to beat some preteen contestants on Jeopardy. “After all... tomorrow is another day,” I hear Scarlett say. I spoil myself with two more Vienna fingers.

Cooking Makes Me Cry

Mmm uncooked dough with hard, burnt cheese.
Credits to Jason Radka.

I am the self-proclaimed World’s Worst Cook (and dancer, but that's another therapy session on it's own). I don’t know how to cook, I have never wanted to know, and few have begged to try my dishes. 

Once, for a Christmas party, I managed to make a boxed Betty Crocker chocolate chip cake look like skin grafts, as most at the event described. I attempted to make homemade pizza as recent as two weeks ago, thinking that spreading dough and topping it with sauce and cheese would be a cinch. I was even pompous enough to assume that I might be able to twirl it in the air with elegance. I ended up plastering myself to the counters and dialing Dominos. If you are still not clear on my atrocious cooking skills, please contact me for more details.

 I watched this video in preparation of my pizza-making adventure. 

Cookie Monster would might go vegan after trying my cookies.

For these reasons, I have never tried to master a particular dish. The irony is that I was born to a fantastic chef, who attempted to pass on her passions for cooking to me. It hasn’t worked. Do I love to eat? Absolutely, it’s my most coveted pastime, but the thought of organizing and coordinating ingredients, temperatures, pots, pans, and (eek!) knives overwhelms me. Sometimes, putting together the main components of a sandwich disturbs my peaceful aura. Mayonnaise AND mustard? This is just too much.

So here I am, proposing the idea of a cooking blog, for people who don’t know how to cook. As a beginner chef, I would like to one day posses the ability to actually feed a human. Hence, I’m boycotting cereal with the utmost of courage.