Smothered in Love Comfort Mac and Cheese
1 32-ounce package small elbow macaroni
1 8-ounce block of medium sharp cheddar cheese
1 can evaporated milk
3 eggs
3 tsp Lawry’s seasoning salt
1 8-ounce block of sharp cheddar cheese
1 stick of unsalted butter
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Boil macaroni to al dente. While boiling, shred medium sharp cheddar cheese. Pour drained macaroni into a casserole dish and add shredded cheese, stirring until cheese is melted and macaroni is coated well. In a mixing bowl, whisk together milk, eggs, and seasoning salt. Pour milk mixture over macaroni. Cut sharp cheddar cheese and butter into 1/2-inch blocks and press throughout the macaroni, alternating between cheese and butter. Cover and bake 45 minutes.
Yield: 8 to 10 servings
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hot child in the city.
The set is buzzing with construction workers engaged in a variety of activities. Some are setting up walls, others are moving booths and tables in, and a couple are working on the lighting.
This morning we’re planning the back-of-house design, and we’re set up in our bare-bones kitchen. No conference table today, but there are kitchen-element samples spread throughout on different counters. We’ll pick appliances, cookware, how we want the hot plate area set up. Everything. I’m bouncing on my toes and smiling as wide as my mouth will allow. I’m excited about creating a kitchen from scratch, but I may also be a little happy about Knox being okay and him waiting for me when I’m done. He only made half an effort of getting my clothes off last night, and when I reminded him of my early morning call, he easily gave in. The strain of the day had taken a toll on him. Me too. Lying in each other’s arms all night was peaceful, and I got lots of rest and am ready to go this morning. Flynn may have been dealt a blow by his son, but he’s still a formidable competitor and I need to be on my game.
As arrogant as I always thought he was, Knox really knows how to apologize. All is well on that front, and it’s good timing because working with Dean Ellerson this morning would have been more than awkward. I’m happy to know she didn’t accept a straight-out bribe for allowing Knox in school, although she did facilitate Flynn’s generous contribution. It sucks and the system is unfair, but no different than any other elite school. It’s a bonus that Knox deserved to be there. Something I knew after five minutes of meeting him but was too butt-hurt to acknowledge. That along with what I overheard later with his roommate. I’m not sure if I 100 percent forgive him for those harsh words, but now I know he was only parroting what his father had told him.
When we begin, Dean Ellerson has a tablet with her, which is different than Chef Buccola’s method. “Hello, Townsend family.” She smiles at all of us, but her eyes land on me. “Rowan.”
“Hi, Dean.” She’s clearly in touch with Flynn so I wonder how much she knows of what happened yesterday.
“Do you have an idea of what you want? Or do you want me to make recommendations first?”
I know exactly what my dream kitchen would consist of. I’ve dreamt about it since I was in middle school, helping Mama in the restaurant. I perfected it during culinary school. I only need to go through the motions at this point. As I rattle off each piece of equipment, pot, and storage container and rack, Dean Ellerson clicks on her tablet finding a match. We walk through the kitchen area and talk about what counters I want. Hannah even throws in some good suggestions here and there.
But the pièce de résistance is the attached greenhouse for growing herbs. It will be unique and open for customers to marvel. Dean Ellerson said she was impressed.
At lunch, we switch again, and the crew brings the conference table back in and sets everything up for the next round of menu design, including the bar.
Chef Buccola is in a rare mood. Normally good-natured if not a bit reserved, he’s practically growling when he comes into our kitchen. He’s grumbling under his breath and I catch “that man” and “pompous” so it doesn’t take a genius to guess that Flynn has gotten under his skin. Declan’s able, but he’s not bold enough to go against a world-famous chef. His father on the other hand… It’s his calling card.
“Townsend family, let’s get started.”
This is going to be great drama for viewers at home. The producers are probably salivating right now.
“Okay, Chef.” I open my laptop and pull up the file where I transferred the handwritten menu I created into an electronic form. All four of us huddle around and hash out suggestions until we have a final product. One that I can be happy with.
When the day is over, I hurriedly pack my belongings and urge Wyatt and Hannah to do the same. I’m ready to get back to the hotel as soon as possible. To get back to Knox.
*
The hallway is empty this time. Hopefully Knox is inside my room as planned. I barrel my way through the door, bouncing and bubbly, a huge smile splitting my face, but it falls when there’s no Knox to greet me. I texted him that I was on my way.
I set my backpack on the desk and glance around the room. Something’s definitely different. I look in the bathroom and there’s an extra toothbrush and toothpaste, plus a comb that isn’t mine. Next, I open the closet and sure enough, there’s a suitcase that doesn’t belong to me, plus Knox’s bag he carries his laptop, knives, and other personal stuff in. Hmm.
I go over to the bed which is unmade, ugh, and there’s a note on the nightstand. It reads: Amber, be ready in forty-five minutes, please. We have seven o’clock reservations. Birdsong chef’s table.
Holy crap. This is the epitome of fine dining. Or so
