By now, it’s no secret that me and food are extremely close and have a very special relationship. So much so, that each morning I wake up, it is not out of the norm for me to map out an entire day of meals in my head simply because I’m that excited about having a “clean slate” of menu choices… Oh yes y’all, it’s serious. But there is one food in particular that I could probably eat at least once or twice a week for the rest of my life and I never get tired of it… Macaroni and damn cheese. Or to put it as the late, great Bernie Mac would probably put, Macaroni and… muthafuckincheese. To me, mac and cheese is “main dish material” while the chicken, steak, or whateverthehell that is served with it automatically becomes the side dish. Percentage-wise, my plate will run anywhere from 40-50% macaroni, and the rest will be left for the remaining 2-4 items that have been included for dinner. As a matter of fact, I’ll tell y’all how I became ruined… In college, I learned how to make my own from scratch….. and perfect it. I then became an official “Macaroni Snob.” Now, I can’t even eat everybody’s macaroni… Or better yet, I won’t eat everybody’s macaroni. I mean come on, you’ve had bad macaroni and cheese before…It’s pretty much tragedy on a plate. It’s even worse when someone hypes up a family member’s mac dish to you…

………then you have a sample of it……… *delivers a STRONG screwface* and it tastes like some damn noodles with Kraft cheese slices sitting in milk. That is the WORST. You’re left standing there damn near feeling sorry for the family as you wonder if that’s the best they can do as a unit! *reminisces on Wonder Mike’s last “Rapper’s Delight” verse*

Now while I don’t remember when or how my connection with this dish became so deep, I do know that it was early on in my life. With that being said, let me tell you a story…. Mac and cheese and I have a rich history.

Before I share this story, I need you to understand that I played baseball from the age of 9 until I was 22 years old and didn’t break ANY bones. I played football a couple years in high school… NO broken bones. Matter of fact, I have had a broken bone only ONE time in my life… I was in kindergarten, which probably meant that I was all of about 5 years old and I was doing what most little kids do during the day – “Plaaaaaying” © The classic 5-year old answer to “What have you been doing today?” Well, in the middle of my playing around… Moms made an announcement that absolutely made my entire day.