![]() ![]() “Like most blacks then, they took the train north. ![]() Her father was born in Memphis, the son of a sharecropper, and met her mother in Ohio. Mimi Beal, 52, sums up macaroni and cheese simply: “It’s EVERYTHING.”Ī native of Cleveland who now lives in Charlotte, Beal’s family is a product of the Great Migration, when African-Americans left the South for more opportunity in the North. Maybe it’s time we discuss this: Is it macaroni and cheese? Or is it more? We bring friends to Thanksgiving, gather blended families and define ourselves in our menus. In America today, we come together in public places and private occasions. “Your Mama’s Mac and cheese” - baked, in a casserole and made from scratch. The debate over this sounds like a joke, and sometimes it is: On websites and Twitter feeds like you find cracks about who makes the best macaroni and cheese, with memes like “Becky’s Mac and cheese” - instant, creamy, made on the stove - vs. ![]() Macaroni and cheese on a holiday table would be as out of place as ripped blue jeans in church. You might make it from scratch for a filling meal, but it’s also so simple, any kid can make it: Tear open the box, boil the macaroni, dump in the powder, stir in the milk. It’s also cheap, the kind of thing your mother pulled together on a weeknight to stretch the budget. In white culture, for the most part, macaroni and cheese is certainly considered tasty - cheesy, comforting and filling. Just rip the top off a blue box? It would be like ripping through your grandmother’s heart. It’s baked, and it’s a side dish, but it’s the side dish of honor, present at every important occasion. It’s made from scratch and usually involves multiple kinds of cheese, secret touches (eggs and evaporated milk may be involved) and debates over toppings. Who makes it, how it’s made and who’s allowed to bring it to a gathering involves negotiation, tradition and tacit understanding. In black culture, for the most part, macaroni and cheese is the pinnacle, the highest culinary accolade. I’d learned that America’s beloved comfort food leads a double life. The person who really got educated that day wasn’t the kids. Then it happened: One child called out, “Macaroni and cheese.”Īcross the room, every white child said a version of “Say what?” And every black child said a version of “Well, sure.” I stood at the wipe-off board and wrote down what the kids called out: Turkey, dressing, pumpkin pie. I figured it would be easy: I’d ask the kids what their family eats at Thanksgiving and we’d do a middle-school version of Brillat-Savarin’s old saw, “Tell me what you eat and I’ll tell you who you are.” It was one of those volunteer duties, the one where you agree to talk to your kid’s class about your job. This American comfort food leads a double life, but only some of us know the secret. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |