My dad makes the best macaroni and cheese on the planet. That is a fact. If you haven't been to one of our Thanksgivings or other family meal, then you have not yet tasted the best macaroni and cheese ever to exist. Sorry.
I didn't taste boxed macaroni and cheese until I was in college. One of my friends had a hot plate, and we thought it would be fun to cook something. She had a box of macaroni and cheese. I was opposed to it, but curious.
It was gross.
But then I started thinking that it didn't actually taste horrible. The problem was that I was comparing it to my dad's divine recipe. Maybe it's like comparing soy milk to whole milk. The trick is to remember it's not supposed to taste like whole milk; it's something entirely different. Once I started thinking about Boxed Macaroni as something different, it didn't taste so bad. I still never craved it though.
Except one predictable time: the moment a migraine breaks. When I've fought fever and cold multiple times, tied a cold compress around my forehead, vomited, banged my head against a wall, and thrashed the pillows all around ... when it finally subsides ... I only want to eat one thing: boxed macaroni and cheese.
It's the weirdest thing. I feel mildly guilty about it too. But I just about devoured an entire box. Gross. Yum.