Wounded, Old, and Lecherous

Your instructions about white sauce remind me about the story of why I sometimes eat weird mac-n-cheese out of nostalgia.

For much of her professional life, my Mom worked regular hours the other four days of the week, but until nine pm on Wednesdays. Now, while in most respects she's a pretty thorough feminist, she went to high-school at a time when Home Ec was serious business for girls, so -- though she taught me to cook and sew for myself -- she's always been just a teeny bit skeptical about men's competence in the kitchen.

Way back in the dark ages, when I was just a little kid and she had just started working Wednesday nights, my Dad and I got into the habit of having macaroni and cheese, which he made not out of a box ( because Mom wouldn't buy that stuff ) but from the recipe in Mom's Betty Crocker cookbook -- which is basically white sauce + cheese + macaroni. One day when Mom was home and we were trying to decide what to have for dinner, she was somewhat taken aback when I asked for macaroni and cheese, but added that I wanted Dad to make it cause I liked his way better. She was even more appalled when she saw him making it, though: "What are you doing?! You can't make white sauce with whole-wheat flour!!" Hey, the recipe just says "flour", nothing about what kind.

Forty years later, I still make it that way sometimes, because I like the more robust flavor -- and I still remember her reaction when she realized what he was doing that day.