I loathe winter. I'm sick of looking at the bright side of all the snow and cold--reminds us how great summer is, makes for a good growing year--bull. I am nursing a serious case of cabin fever. Every morning, I roll up the blinds to gaze out into my backyard and the snow is still there. I haven't seen the ground, nay half of my driveway, since early December. I get through long days at the office by eating my lunch outside and by taking a mid-afternoon stroll. I haven't done this since November or maybe even October. I raise my angry fist to Mother Nature, I beg for mercy and it has yet to come. I am full-on lusting after spring. I need it. I need green, water running into storm drains, chirping birds, the sun outside my window in the morning, tulips, thunderstorms, asparagus. I would gladly trade 10 tornados for a snowy day.
To compensate for my misery (yes, I use food as a coping mechanism), I've been enjoying quite a bit of comfort food lately. And this here is the creamiest, cheesiest macaroni in existence. The only thing that would make it more comforting is if I ate it while snuggling under a fleece blanket in front of a fireplace. I heard a lot about this mac and cheese from friends before receiving the recipe as a Christmas present. My first instinct is to be a little turned off by the presence of Velvetta--that yellow processed cheese able to be stored at room temperature for eternity without going bad--but man it's so good.
Hansen Family Macaroni and Cheese: from Sarah Baker Hansen
1 1/2 cup large macaroni pasta
2 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons flour
1 1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup onion, diced
4 ounces Velvetta cheese
Preheat the oven to 350. Meanwhile, bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to directions (probably about 10 minutes). Drain.
In a separate skillet on medium heat, melt the butter. Add the flour. Stir continuously, the mixture will thicken, bubble and then turn a nutty brown color. Be careful not to burn the flour. Add the milk and onion, continue stirring for a couple minutes until onion has been softened slightly. Add the Velvetta to the skillet, stir until melted. Blend in the pasta, stirring to coat with the cheese. Transfer macaroni and cheese to a casserole and bake for 35 to 40 minutes. Baking it gives the macaroni a nice creamy crust.
As a study abroad student in Orvieto, Italy, I am learning more about culture and people than I ever could have at university in Manhattan, Kan. As food is such a monumental part of every culture, it was imperative that my classmates and I participate in a day of cooking lessons with a real, live Italian chef.
Chef Lorenzo of the Zeppelin in Orvieto is an Italian who studied in the U.S. and seems to know everyone connected with food in Umbria. As part of our cooking class, we toured a local cheese factory and an olive oil mill.
Italians love to tell stories, and the more ridiculous the better. Perhaps it is their connection with Greek and Roman mythology, or maybe it’s because of the abundance of absurd leaders, egotistical artists and larger than life characters that bring about these stories and legends. Whatever the cause, Italians and their stories have also become a part of their food. Some of which we heard while touring what my mother describes as “the cheese barn.” 
After looking around the factory at all the machinery necessary to the cheese making process, our guides took us into the aging rooms. They have three different storage rooms where cheese is aged at the factory. In the first room there were racks of cheese wheels and a faint musty smell in the air. In the second room the cheese was starting to get a little moldy and take on a brighter color. In the third room the smell intensified and all the wheels of cheese were covered in mold.
The differences between the cheeses that they make at this factory come from how the cheese is aged. The longer it is aged the stronger the flavor is. Other differences come from the way the cheese is aged. One kind of cheese was soaked in red wine before being aged. Another variety was covered in hay to add a more rustic flavor. One of the more unusual varieties was aged in a cave. We were given samples of almost every kind of cheese the factory produces. We were even given a sample of the most expensive cheese made in Italy, which costs 60 euros for a kilo. 
Chef Lorenzo told us the story behind this cheese. Apparently when Julius Caesar was fighting the Gauls in northern Europe, the Romans on the Italian peninsula were fighting off attacks from the Turks. In order to save their beloved cheese from the merciless pirates, they buried the cheese underground. When the Turks had been run out of Roman territory, the Romans dug up their cheese and were surprised by how delicious the cheese had become. To this day, the Italians age cheese in holes in the ground. Although it may sound absurd, I can’t blame them because it was delicious. 
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