Sick. By far the most heinous of four letter words. Give me your fornicates, your cruds, your hecks, your shrews; I shall not flinch. Just keep your diseases far, far away. In a locked box. Under the sea. On Mars. Like a beat up Ford pinto far past its prime, my body fails me through a non-stop runny nose, fatigue, a sore throat and that annoying stuffed-up head feeling. Bah! I hate being sick!

I did this delightful dance a few weeks ago, a condition I largely blame on the pressures of work, trudging through the needs and responsibilities, cutting whatever I can from my list of Things That Require Motion or Thought (which is quite a large list, by the way). When I’m like this everything is a candidate for the chopping block; even, dare I say it, cooking. Who wants to stand and pay attention to hot burny things when they’re sick? There aren’t any beds in the kitchen! Nonetheless, sustenance must be found and after waking from a post-work nap a few Fridays ago my hunger trumped my sickness, so I stumbled into the kitchen. This was a day for simple. This was a day for comfort food. This was a day for mac and cheese.

I was in no mood to go hunting for ingredients at the local mega mart (have I mentioned it is friggin’ cold here?) so this became a foraging venture, searching for left over ingredients from earlier recipes or ingredients that I had intended to use but for whatever reason did not (the realm of forgotten ingredients). This, my friends, was delicious. The perfect sick-day comfort food.