Bethany Jean Clement: Best macaroni and cheese recipe is a choose-your-own adventure

I’m here as a macaroni-and- lover, not a macaroni-and- fighter. The title of the following — “The Actual Best Macaroni and ” — clearly indulges in hyperbole, for the actual best macaroni and cheese is, of course, made the way you like it most. In this celebration of gluten and dairy, everybody should be a winner (except those unable to partake, and sorry!).

Personally, I like most every kind of mac and cheese: Give it to me (please), and I will eat it, and I will be happy. I will eat it at a fancy restaurant (probably with lobster in it, which is absurd, but I will absolutely eat it), I will eat it at pretty much any restaurant that puts it on the menu (and please do), I will eat it from a grocery-store deli counter (would 100% right now, actually), I will eat it frozen from ’s (surprisingly decent, and made with cheddar, havarti, Gouda and Swiss), I will eat it from a box, etc. The only style of macaroni and cheese that I have trouble getting behind is the pasta-in-a-slick-and-shiny-Velveeta-type-sauce variety; I find the gluey factor a little off-putting, but if that’s your thing, all due respect to you.

The love of macaroni and cheese has led me to experiment with different kinds of , from the easy three-ingredient type incorporating evaporated milk, to those with the inclusion of eggs for a more custardy situation, to the likes of ’s macaroni gratin (which, unexpectedly, convinced me that macaroni and cheese doesn’t need bacon). Noodle consideration has occupied more of my time than it should; classic large elbow is classic for a reason and quite wholly pleasing, but penne has those external ridges for minute additional cheese-adhering pleasure and also a bit more chew (I switch back and forth).

The method here, involving a roux, is not the easiest, with a long stretch of hot and boring stirring while all the cheeses are added, but ultra-gooey, casserole-y greatness will be your reward. The customization…

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