Let's Cook! Entry #2

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Here's the next installment.

CHAPTER TWO

MAC AND CHEESE…WITH A KICK

1 box uncooked macaroni (1 lb.)

1/2 cup or 1 stick butter

1/2 cup flour

1 tsp salt

1/2 tsp white pepper (can use black, but it will be visible with black specks)

1 1/2 tsp ground mustard

1 1/2 tsp onion powder

3 1/2 cups milk

2 roasted red bell peppers, seeded, skinned, cored

2 Tablespoons Frank’s Hot Sauce

2 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese

1 ½ cups Italian seasoned breadcrumbs

           

All eyes were on Anderson Hot when he emerged through the front door, perspiration streaming down his face, eyes wide with confusion. Eyes taking in the crowd of 20 or more, mostly family and friends. A few enemies. All dressed well in somber suits and subdued tones, many with the same expression of confusion as Hot. Daughter Margot was the first to speak.

“Dad, I can’t believe you were out running. How could you forget that Mom’s funeral was this morning? Last night you said you’d be ready.”

Hot nodded. “Sorry.” Frozen to the spot—what was he thinking? He meant to do three and still there would’ve been plenty of time for a shower and shave, but then he found himself five miles later just cruising and cruising and he couldn’t stop. And the next thing he noticed…

“Look, it’s okay, just go up for a quick shower and change and we’ll be there in plenty of time. We all understand, everyone is off their game. Let me call the church and let them know we’re a little behind—no biggie Andy.” That was Marco Bellini, the deputy mayor, which, given the circumstances, would be more accurately described as the former deputy mayor. While Hot was not wild about being called “Andy,” Marco was a stand-up guy and Lottie’s best friend in the world—been with the administration for all four terms and could be counted on whatever the circumstances. A large man with jet black Italian curls plastered across his forehead and an open face with large brown eyes, Marco owned the local Italian deli that was Hot’s go-to source for certain hard-to-find imported ingredients. Marco’s distended gut and scarlet face were testament to an abiding love of Italian cuisine—copious quantities of Italian cuisine.

“Well go, Dad,” said Phillip. As usual, Hot’s eldest son was impatient with his dad and eager to get the whole mess over with so he could catch the next flight back to Pittsburgh with that strange new girl he had brought with him.

Hot headed to the stairs and, as he ascended, stopped to apologize to the assembled mourners and dignitaries, his track clothes matted to his sweat-soaked body. With a mix of shame and embarrassment, he said, “I’m very sorry for this. I’m out of sorts, as you can imagine—I depended on Lottie for a lot. I…oh, well I’ll be back down in a few minutes. If you all want to get going to the church, I’ll be along.”