🧀 Chorizo Mac & Cheese
by Om B
It takes a lot to silence Uncle Rufus. A man who once complained about the temperature of tap water and insists “real cheese should sweat,” he’s been ruining family meals since 1983.
Then I made this.
A stovetop mac and cheese so rich, smoky and unapologetically bold that it stopped Rufus mid-rant about “millennial food trends.” I’d call it a miracle, but really—it was just damn good cooking.
This isn't your toddler's mac and cheese. It's grown up. It drinks tequila and smokes paprika. It packs heat from Mexican chorizo, depth from sautéed peppers and onion, and three cheeses—because two’s just being polite.
And if you’re feeling clever (or bougie), throw in mushrooms. The right kind turns this into comfort food with a wine-pairing clause.
🥄 The Recipe:
You’ll Need:
250g pasta (cavatappi, shells, fusilli—whatever makes you feel fancy)
200g Mexican chorizo (crumbled)
1 small onion, finely diced
1 bell pepper (red or yellow), diced
150–200g cremini or shiitake mushrooms (optional but encouraged), sliced
2 tbsp butter
2 tbsp plain flour
500 ml whole milk
100g white cheddar, grated
100g yellow cheddar, grated
50g Parmesan, finely grated
Salt, black pepper, pinch of smoked paprika and/or cayenne (optional)
The How:
Boil pasta until just al dente. Drain, reserve a splash of pasta water.
Brown chorizo in a large pan. Remove when crisp. Leave the spicy fat behind—trust me.
Sauté mushrooms (if using) in a hot dry pan until they release their liquid and start to brown. Then add a touch of butter or the reserved chorizo fat. Cook until golden, then remove and set aside.
Sauté onion and pepper in the same pan. Cook ‘til soft and slightly caramelized.
Add butter. Stir in flour. Cook a light roux (think: blonde, not brunette).
Whisk in warm milk gradually. Stir like you mean it. When thickened, kill the heat and melt in all the cheese.
Add pasta, chorizo, and mushrooms (if using). Stir. Taste. Adjust. Add a spoon of pasta water if it's too thick. Say a quiet thank-you to the cheese gods.
Serve hot, garnished with parsley, green onion, crushed tortilla chips—or just your own smug satisfaction.
📝 Final Note:
Uncle Rufus didn’t say a word after his first bite. Just grunted, nodded once, and helped himself to seconds.
Some recipes change lives. This one just changes attitudes.
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I am weeping as my husband is lactose intolerant.
I oughta slap you, mate. Don't see my invite to dinner.