how to make the best box of mac and cheese you've ever had

from a seasoned expert

step one:

make sure you bought the right box of mac and cheese. annie's white cheddar shells are the golden choice, kraft is for dire circumstances, and the frozen stouffer's comically orange mac and cheese is for the end of the world. or for when it's during the pandemic and it is 2am and it is all you have to eat in your lonely, empty dorm in davis, california.

step two:

wash the good pot. you know, the one you used the other day to make hard boiled eggs or spaghetti or whatever else it was. it should already be soaking in the sink, ready to be graced by your forthcoming meal.

step three:

fill the pot with water. then dip your finger in the water to see if it's hot. then regret doing that, because it's hot. debate whether to add salt before it boils or after it boils, then remember a youtube video you watched when you were 12 that said to salt water after it boils so the water boils faster.

step four:

add the salt. then wait for the water to boil. this will be the longest 8 minutes of your life.

step five:

look away for a second. holy shit! the water is bubbling over. turn the heat down and pour in the pasta. now spend the next 10 minutes stirring the pot and waiting for the pasta to cook. this will be the longest 10 minutes of your life. throw the box in the trash. you're definitely not going to need it ever again.

you are so hungry, so these next steps are to be done with speed and efficiency.

step six:

strain the pasta. you don't have a strainer, so cautiously tip the pot and try to spill out as much pasta water as possible without losing any precious morsels. fail miserably. scoop up some of the rogue pasta and put it back in the pot. pretend this never happened.

step seven:

try to remember how much milk and butter you need. remember step five? rifle through the trash to find the box. eyeball three tablespoons of milk by splashing it in the pot three times. no, three and a half. four-ish. you are wrong. this is either too much or too little milk. you will never get this ratio right. add two tablespoons of butter. stir it around until it melts.

step eight:

pour in the powdered cheese. try to ignore the part of you that feels weird about the powdered cheese. how is powdered cheese made? how much of it is actual cheese? do you trust this little bunny on the front of the box? what are her secrets?

step nine:

you are done. behold, your creation. the best meal you'll eat all week (month, even!) try to find a bowl to eat it out of, but then bail on that because then you'll only have to wash one dish, also you feel powerful eating it out of the pot.

step ten:

remember when you were nine and this was your favorite food.

remember the feeling of sitting in the kitchen, waiting for your mom to finish making it for you, then placing the piping hot bowl of gold in front of you.

burn your mouth when taking that first bite, but ignore the pain as it pales in comparison to the joy.

remember when you were young, and you were happy, and you were home after school.

and hold that memory close. because now you are older, and you're not sure how happy you are most of the time, and home is so far away.

step eleven:

rinse and repeat.