Photo from Fire in My Belly by Angie Mosier

Of all the chefs who’ve visited for the Southern Chefs Series, Kevin Gillespie has the shortest commute—he just walks down the street from his home here at Serenbe.

But long before he lived here, Kevin found himself a special place in my heart. He knows who he is and doesn’t try to be anything else. When he does his class, he doesn’t bring special tools or foods—just an apron and a smile.

When Kevin sent me his recipes in advance for the class, I headed to the store to gather ingredients. When I got to the word “Velveeta,” I stopped in the middle of the aisle. I’ve never bought Velveeta in my life. And if anyone else had asked me to buy it, I would’ve graciously declined. But I adore Kevin so much, I looked around until I found someone who could point me to the processed cheese food.

Kevin used the Velveeta in his Gussied-Up Mac-N-Cheese, a recipe that comes right from his cookbook, Fire in My Belly.

When I first started making mac and cheese, I made a béchamel with flour and milk, then added cheese. But it never tasted right. The cheese sauce was too grainy. I knew you couldn’t just melt the cheese straight because it would separate. The flour stabilizes it and keeps it from separating.

Then one day, I was rolling down the aisle of a grocery store and saw Velveeta. I did a double take. “Should that be refrigerated in the cheese section?” I wondered. I picked up the package and read the ingredient list. It had a stabilizer in it. Perfect! I know Velveeta is not a staple ingredient for professional chefs, but I thought, “I don’t give a damn. I’m going to make the same sauce I was making before and use Velveeta instead of flour.” It worked like a charm.

This is the genius of Kevin. He found a way to take macaroni and cheese to the next level while still making it accessible to the home cook. Did I mention that there’s andouille sausage in there, too? And that it’s topped with Utz potato chips?

He served it with Salisbury steak and his great grandmother’s warm banana pudding. And even with all that food in their bellies, the guests stayed around for hours after dinner, asking Kevin questions and listening to him tell stories. I thought about asking them to wrap it up a few times, then decided to let the night end organically—which is more than I can say for the Velveeta, which will live out the rest of its long, lonely life in the back of my refrigerator.

Next up in the Southern Chefs Series: Chris Hastings September 21-22. Secure your spot by calling 770.463.2610.

Kevin Gillespie’s Gussied-up Mac-N-Cheese

Serves 8

• 1 tablespoon butter
• 2 tablespoons salt
• 1 pound dried cavatappi
• 8 ounces diced andouille sausage
• 4 cups heavy cream
• 1 pound Velveeta, cut into 1-inch cubes
• 2 cups smoked cheddar cheese, grated
• 1 cup Parrano cheese, grated
• 4 ounces Utz potato chips, unsalted and crumbled

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Butter a 3-quart baking dish and set aside.

Bring a large pot of water to a rapid boil. Add the salt and stir to dissolved. Add the pasta and cook until just tender yet still quite chewy in the center. Drain the pasta in a colander and set aside.

While the pasta cooks, line a plate with a double layer of paper towels. Squeeze the sausage from the casing, then quarter it length-wise and cut it crosswise into ¼-inch pieces. Heat an 8-inch skillet over medium-high heat, add the sausage pieces, and cook until browned around the edges, about 3 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the sausage to the paper towels to drain.

In a Dutch oven, heat the cream to a simmer over medium-high heat. Cut the heat down to low, add the Velveeta, and stir until it melts. Add the sausage, cheddar and Parrano, stirring until the cheese is completely melted. Pull the pot from the heat and fold in the cooked pasta. Pour the pasta into the baking dish and top with the crumbled potato chips.

Bake until bubbly and browned around the edges, about 20 minutes. Pull the dish from the oven and let the sauce set up for at least 5 minutes before serving.

*If you can’t get Parrano cheese, replace it with 2 ounces aged Gouda and 2 ounces Parmigiano-Reggiano.

Serenbe has a way of turning renters into residents.

Two years ago, Frances’ job brought her to Atlanta for a few months and they put her up in a high rise in the city. The location didn’t feel right, so she found a real estate agent and explained what she wanted. The agent brought Frances to Serenbe, she loved it, rented a house and became good friends with the owner.

When she returned to rent the house again a year later, it was for sale with some very interested buyers. Since Frances wasn’t able to rent it, she bought it. And we had a little potluck to welcome her back home.

The guest list was a mixture of meat eaters and vegans, so I made roasted pork butt and a lima bean salad with pear relish. Why pear relish? Because that’s what caught my eye when I opened the refrigerator. The limas were frozen, but I have not one thing against frozen beans—they’re one of the few foods that freeze well.

All the guests brought dessert, including a beautiful berry clafoutis and cupcakes with berries that had been macerated in sauterne. But the lima bean salad plate was licked completely clean. Sometimes the best salads are created between the freezer and the fridge.

Lima Bean Salad

• 4 cups cooked lima beans
• 2 cups fresh corn kernels
• 1 cup Vidalia or sweet onion, diced
• 1 to 1 ½ cup pear relish
• Kosher salt

Mix all ingredients in a bowl and salt to taste. Let sit for an hour in the refrigerator to let the flavors mingle, then serve at room temperature.

I wrote last week about my Camp Serenbe cooking class full of eager young chefs who picked, chopped and whisked the week away with me. They were so incredibly precious with their cookie sheets and mise en place all ready to go.

After we did the tomato sauce and cheese soufflé on Monday and Tuesday, we spent Wednesday making a salad bar. They picked carrots in the garden at the Inn and created their own vinaigrettes with oils and vinegars.

The next day, it was time to talk dessert. The kids went into the Grange hamlet and picked blueberries for a blueberry cobbler from the bushes planted near the crosswalks. Then I asked how many of the kids had made their own whipped cream. We talked about the kind of whipped cream you can buy in a can—or, as I like to call it, That Which Shall Not Be Named—and I laid down my cardinal rule: If you can’t pronounce the words on it, don’t eat it.

So we made our own and wound up with so much of it that there was nothing else to do but go outside and have a whipped cream painting party. Some kids put it all over their entire face and bodies. Some just did a mustache. Some didn’t want it touching them at all. Some were throwing it at each other. But it was just one of those Auntie Mame moments—oh hell, let’s just do this. Sure, it would’ve been easier (and cleaner) to stay in the kitchen, but those kids left with big smiles—and freshly whipped cream—on their faces.

Blueberry Cobbler

• 1 cup sugar
• ½ cup butter
• 1 cup flour
• 1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
• ½ teaspoon kosher salt
• 1 cup milk
• 2 cups blueberries

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Slice butter and put it in a baking dish to cook in the oven until butter is melted. Mix together all the dry ingredients and then add milk. Pour batter into the melted butter then scatter fruit around. Bake for 30 minutes to 1 hour until middle is set.

Note: Several types of fruit can be used for this recipe. Sliced strawberries, blueberries or sliced peaches can be added raw. If using apples, peel, slice and cook in skillet with ¼ cup butter and 2 tablespoons brown sugar until soft.

When my daughter Kara approached me about doing a farm-to-table cooking class for Camp Serenbe, I agreed. But not without some trepidation.

How was I going to occupy 14 hungry children, ages 8-13, for four days? And was I really going to give them knives?

I needn’t have worried. We had an absolute blast. They were all so well behaved and every time they cracked an egg or stirred a roux it was a new, exciting adventure. Plus, I can’t deny how good it felt to have all those adoring eyes looking at me like I was the most amazing chef ever.

By the end of the week, I wanted them to understand how to make a complete meal. The first day was about knife skills, so they picked basil and tomatoes at The Inn at Serenbe, then came back and chopped. We added some extra virgin olive oil, garlic, salt and pepper and made them into a beautiful uncooked tomato sauce.

On the second day, they went to Many Fold Farm, a nearby family-owned farm that produces organic eggs and fresh sheep cheeses. When they returned, we sat down with 15 dozen eggs and learned how to separate them. Once they mastered that, we whipped them up and added them to a cheese soufflé. People are mystified by soufflés, but nothing could be simpler. It’s much harder to get everyone to pronounce “croissant” correctly.

Stayed tuned for next week’s post about homemade blueberry cobbler and what we did with five quarts of fresh whipped cream.

Fresh Tomato Sauce

from Joy of Cooking

Makes enough for 1 pound of pasta

•  5 large, ripe tomatoes, seeded and finely diced
• ½ cup fresh basil leaves, finely chopped
• 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 2 cloves garlic, finely minced
• Salt and ground black pepper to taste.

Drain the tomatoes in a colander for 20 minutes. Remove them to a large bowl and stir in the rest of the ingredients. Let stand for at least 30 minutes. Serve the sauce at room temperature. If serving over hot pasta, sprinkle each portion with 1 to 2 teaspoons of balsamic vinegar.

Fannie Farmer’s Cheese Soufflé

• 2 tablespoons butter
• 3 tablespoons flour
• ½ cup scalded milk
• ½ teaspoon salt
• Few grains cayenne
• ½ cup grated Cheddar cheese
• 3 eggs, separated

Melt the butter, add the flour, and when well mixed gradually add the scalded milk. Then add the salt, cayenne and cheese. Remove from the heat.

Beat the egg yolks until lemon-colored and add them to the mixture.

Beat the egg whites stiff, but not dry. Cool the mixture and fold in the egg whites.

Pour into a buttered 1 ½ quart mold and bake 30 to 45 minutes at 375 degrees