Three-Cheese Baked Mac and Cheese

Last week of school. The hallways have that end-of-year electricity — kids vibrating, teachers counting hours, the whole building humming with impending freedom. I love this week and I dread it. I love it because the energy is contagious and the kids are giddy. I dread it because some of these children are going home to situations where school was the safe place, and summer means three months without that safety net. I know which ones. I always know. You learn to see it — the kid who eats both breakfast and lunch at school like they're loading up. The one who asks if the counselor's office is open in the summer. The one who lingers after dismissal.

I made sure my referrals were in order. Every kid who needs summer services has a plan. It's not enough — it's never enough — but it's what I can do from my little office with my box of tissues and my degree from Georgia State that cost me two babies' worth of sleepless nights to earn.

Marcus's last day was Thursday. He came home with a backpack full of crumpled papers, a report card (all B's and one A in science — the solar system project paid off), and the quiet satisfaction of a boy who made it through sixth grade without incident. He didn't say much. He went to his room and played video games. I let him. Some celebrations are private.

Jasmine's last day was Friday. She came home clutching a certificate that says "Outstanding Reader" and three library books she's "borrowing" over the summer, which I suspect means she doesn't intend to return them. My daughter is a book thief and I am oddly proud. She also brought home a friendship bracelet from a girl named Aria who is, according to Jasmine, "the best person on earth after you, Mama." The bracelet is purple and already unraveling and Jasmine is treating it like a Cartier diamond.

Saturday at Mama's was harder this week. She's between chemo cycles and the fatigue has settled into her bones. She didn't get out of bed while I was there. I cooked in her kitchen — baked mac and cheese, the kind with three cheeses and a breadcrumb top that's more casserole than side dish — and brought her a plate in bed. She ate half and said, "You put too much nutmeg." I did not put too much nutmeg. I put exactly the amount she taught me. But I said, "You're right, Mama, I'll fix it next time," because arguing with Brenda Jackson about nutmeg while she's in bed with cancer is not a hill I will die on.

Summer stretches ahead of me like a road with no signs. Three months of Marcus and Jasmine home all day, which means three months of keeping them fed, occupied, and alive on a school counselor's salary that doesn't increase just because my expenses do. Vanessa's daughter is the same age as Jasmine, so we'll do shared childcare — my days, her days, and the days where both of us drop them at the library and pray. Church has a summer program for two weeks. Camp at the Y for one week. After that, creativity and grits.

Mama’s critique landed the way her critiques always do — equal parts sting and love — and I drove home thinking about nutmeg and summer and the long road with no signs. When I got in my own kitchen, I didn’t want to try something new; I wanted to make the thing I already knew, the thing that meant her, and make it exactly right. This is the mac and cheese I’ve been making since she first put a wooden spoon in my hand — three cheeses, a crunchy breadcrumb top, and the correct amount of nutmeg. Here’s how I make it.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 lb elbow macaroni
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus 2 tablespoons for breadcrumbs
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
3 cups whole milk, warmed
1 cup heavy cream
2 cups sharp cheddar, freshly shredded
1 cup gruyère, freshly shredded
1 cup fontina, freshly shredded
1 teaspoon dry mustard powder
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for pasta water
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 cup panko breadcrumbs
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped (optional)

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Heat oven to 375°F. Butter a 9x13-inch baking dish and set aside.
Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil. Cook macaroni 2 minutes less than package directions — it will finish in the oven. Drain and set aside.
Build the roux. In a large saucepan over medium heat, melt 4 tablespoons butter. Whisk in flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 2 minutes until the mixture smells nutty and turns light golden.
Make the béchamel. Slowly pour in warmed milk and heavy cream, whisking continuously to prevent lumps. Cook over medium heat, whisking frequently, until the sauce thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon, about 6–8 minutes.
Add cheese and seasoning. Remove saucepan from heat. Stir in mustard powder, nutmeg, garlic powder, salt, pepper, and cayenne. Add cheddar, gruyère, and fontina in three additions, stirring until fully melted and smooth between each addition.
Combine. Add drained macaroni to the cheese sauce and stir to coat every noodle. Pour into the prepared baking dish and spread evenly.
Make the breadcrumb topping. Melt remaining 2 tablespoons butter in a small skillet over medium heat. Add panko and stir until golden and toasted, about 3 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in parsley if using. Spread evenly over the top of the mac and cheese.
Bake. Bake uncovered for 25–30 minutes, until the top is deep golden brown and the edges are bubbling. Let rest 10 minutes before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Three-Cheese Baked Mac and Cheese — The Casserole I Made in Mama’s Kitchen When Words Weren’t Enough