This is a remake of my mama’s recipe. The southern way, the traditional way, the way my mama made hers is with sour cream, and then she would cut blocks of cheese into it and add lotsa pepper plus paprika for color.
One reason this recipe here is so sopped up is it’s layered with a rich egg custard and lots and lots of cheese. It’s the cheese that has the !ava, hunny! And it doesn’t matter what cheese you use. Grate up what’s in the fridge and mix ’em together for a pasta party! Cheddar, sharp cheddar, Gruyère, Swiss, Parmesan . . . they all like to play together!
While I make my mac in a big, deep cast-iron skillet, you can use a big casserole dish or a couple smaller ones to bake yours. Just know that your cookin’ time will be different and depend on how deep you’ve got yours layered.
When I was growing up, we ate several dishes that I thought were really unusual and unique to my mother. Macaroni soup was one of them. Small pasta shapes swimming in chicken or veggie broth, flavored with shiitake mushrooms, peas, carrots and ham. Sometimes Spam was also in that bowl. To me, this didn’t feel like a distinctly Chinese dish, so I assumed it was just something my mum made when she was short on time. I continued to think it was a family recipe until a very recent trip to Hong Kong, where I saw it on the breakfast menu at McDonald’s and practically every other cafe and cha chaan teng menu. I was shocked. Only then did I realize it was actually known as “Hong Kong–style breakfast”; it dawned on me that I still had much to learn about my family culture.
At a cafe close to my hotel in Hong Kong, I ordered a variation of this dish—tomato soup brimming with macaroni pasta, topped with scrambled egg. My love for this dish was instant, inspiring a childlike wonder for a bowl full of textures and childhood memories, just with a little twist.
Get that damn lobster out of my mac and cheese! Truffles do not make it better. If you add truffle oil, which is made from a petroleum-based chemical additive and the crushed dreams of nineties culinary mediocrity, you should be punched in the kidneys.