I have this this, this thing that I love to do. Call it comfort food....TO THE MAX. I take a regular box of Kraft Macaroni and cheese and prepare it normally. (Or, if I'm really lucky, I spring for the deluxe box. Yes it costs more, but you don't have to monkey with the powder, butter or milk, and the final product is so much smoother.)
Anyway, after everything is made, I add a smidge more milk and butter (for lube), and then go to town. I usually add cheddar, and if we have it Swiss, and heck: anything I can find. Then, I throw in black olives (if I have them), green olives (ditto), both all chopped up, maybe some grape tomatoes; I kinda go to town. One time I even added some refried beans. (Didn't really work, but it was worth a shot.)
Most importantly, I add some kind of meat. whatever is left over. Maybe I cut up that last piece of chicken or pork chop. Sausage is a real treat, although I like to cut it up and render it in the oven first, because A) little black flavor bits! and B) gets much of the fat out, which can mess up the dish. And of course, if the gods are with me, bacon.
I throw everything in a Pam-sprayed pie-tin, and then I crush up....something into a Ziploc bag, add some of that Parmesan you use on pasta, a tiny bit of melted butter, and sprinkle a little more melted cheese and the crumb topping all over. (Or if I'm feeling really decadent, I'll lay slices of Swiss on top or those mozzarella pull apart sticks.)
The whole thing goes into the oven until I can't stand it any longer, and I pull it out. I like the inside creamy, and even more important, the outside all crunchy with flavor. Usually I have a helping before it's done (can't wait), and then slip the dish back in the oven (turned off) until I'm ready for the second helping, which is to die for.
Cut to tonight. I bought the Kraft deluxe box almost a month ago, but somehow managed to save it for a special occasion. (Honoring people for Memorial Day...duh.) I had two cans of black olives that somehow survived in my room. (All I can say is that it's a good thing there is no can opener in here.)
A few days ago my dad made bacon, and I HEROICALLY hoarded it, going without a bacon and cheese bagel, which is the equivalent of Gandhi sleeping between two seventeen year old virgins every night to test his purity. (It's true; look it up.)
To top that all off, my mom got me my own can of green olives the other day: the stars were aligned. We had every cheese known to man, I had hoarded a few more, and I was set to go to work.
Now, when I say "hoarded," specifically when referring to things that go in the refrigerator, I am speaking of my mom's new "basket" system. Since we often eat at different times and different things, and since certain foods, if not nailed down, have a tendency to simply disappear, my mom thought putting four baskets in the fridge, each labeled with a name, would solve the problem. When she divided some foods up they went in the basket, and if I buy something for me, that's where it goes.
Sounds perfect, right?
[Cue horrific PSYCHO violin music]
Cut (back to) tonight. I had the deluxe box all made. My olives were cut up nicely and dry. I found medium cheddar and sharp cheddar (already shredded!), my hoarded brie, mozzarella sticks and some sort of cubed Colby jack from Hickory Farms. There was even some pre-shredded fiesta blend of four cheeses; the kind you buy in the grocery store for taco night. To top it all off, our Parmesan wasn't the Kraft powder kind that's pretty low quality, but actually shredded and delicious.
BUT SOMEONE STOLE MY BACON!
IN CASE YOU MISSED THAT LAST SENTENCE, SOMEONE TOOK MY BACON!
To recap: this wasn't bacon that was for everyone, and I counted on it but came upon bad luck. That has happened to me more times than I care to remember, but life goes on. No, this was bacon specifically mine, already cooked, and not eaten--WHICH IF YOU KNOW ME, OR BACON, IS REALLY REALLY HARD--and to top things off--IT WAS IN MY "BASKET" IN THE FRIDGE!!!!!!!
I mean, what is the point of having a Hyperion Basket in the first place if people can just take bacon out of there all willy nilly? Did you know that in some cultures you can legally kill a man for taking your bacon. (Okay, not really, but wouldn't that be a just and fair law? Who but child molesters would be against it?)
So here I am, ready to assemble the greatest Macaroni and Cheese casserole one can possibly make not completely from scratch, and I am thwarted by the missing bacon. I'm not going to sit here and tell you I cried. But I cried. (In my defense, they were tears of rage.)
Now, you might be saying, "Hyperion, by your own admission you've gone without bacon in your mac'n'cheese bake before. It's not the end of the world."
True enough. There have been times without bacon. Surely the wonderful black and green olives would be enough to console me in my hour of need. But you're forgetting one important fact.
The pain of no bacon is great, but the pain of expected bacon THAT DOES NOT ARRIVE is so great as to be like gangrene of hope. All that is left is amputation. Of your dreams.
Sniff sniff.
So I don't have bacon. In a few minutes I will go into the kitchen, going through the motions like a man in a loveless marriage, and pull my baked dish from the oven. The Keebler Club Cracker-crust (with that little bit of butter and Parmesan and just a touch of pepper) will give off heat and color to impress the most heartless of food judges. My dish will smell delicious, and taste like ash in my mouth.
Oh, and to make matters worse? I just remembered there is sliced provolone I forgot all about.
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