Over the years, I adapted it to whatever whims and ingredients I had on hand and even started to make baked mac and cheese. My mother made Martha Stewart's version, and I would always sneak some of the butter-drenched croutons before we all sat down to dig in. Let me back up: For as long as I can remember, macaroni and cheese was my birthday dinner.
Haters may hate-that stuff was (and, by all accounts, still is) delicious. And don't tell me I'm the only one with a weak spot for the Velveeta version where you squeeze neon-orange goo out of a silver packet onto your shells, best consumed while watching The Magic Schoolbus. We love Grandma's homemade version that she plunked down on the Thanksgiving table, right next to the green bean casserole.
How do we love thee? Let us count the ways: We love you from a box, preferably in SpongeBob or superhero shapes.
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