Last Saturday night, I set to work making my grandmother’s recipe for homemade mac and cheese. I make it all the time, of course, but was making this time for my grandmother’s son, her grand-daughters, and her great-grandsons. As I reached into the oven to pull out the sizzling pans, it occurred to me that if I am very lucky someday I will make this recipe for my own grandchildren. It’s an easy thing, a recipe like this: noodles, cheese, milk, and butter. But the love and the history that goes into into, well that’s the complicated part, isn’t it?