Greg Whitt
This feels like┬áa horrible thing to do. Maybe my vital organs could have handled the trauma back when I was a college kid, but IÔÇÖm in my thirties now, and IÔÇÖm not sure that┬áthe “Hennaroni & Cheese challenge” is something I can survive. Or want to.
This piece of┬ábold culinary invention tasks me with boiling alcohol, cooking macaroni, and mixing the whole thing with a powdered faux cheese — colored a shade of orange somewhere between Donald TrumpÔÇÖs skin and nuclear summer. The whole thing came┬áabout after┬áUproxx’s Delenda Joseph spoke┬áwith the leader of Henny Gang himself, Chef Henny, and┬ápersonally challenged me to give it a try.
ItÔÇÖs worth restating here that I sensed this was a bad idea. Of course, IÔÇÖve never seen a bad idea that I didnÔÇÖt like, so…
Greg Whitt
The ingredients are pretty simple. Hennessy, more Hennessy, neon orange processed cheese food powder, real cheese, some macaroni, still more Henny, and the all-important shot of water.
Greg Whitt
First, I brought the Henny up to a rolling boil.
Greg Whitt
Before I signed up for this, my primary concern was the fire hazard. IÔÇÖve been to nice enough restaurants where IÔÇÖve seen food be flamb├®ed with cognac, and I really didnÔÇÖt want to flamb├® my one bedroom apartment.
What I hadn’t┬áconsidered was the smell of boiled Hennessy. It is not appetizing. Imagine every drunken uncle from every Fourth of July cookout in your city, all descending upon your kitchen. None of them will shut up and they’re all within a foot of your face using only words that start with “H.” ┬áMy girlfriend nearly got sick right there in the kitchen.
Still, me being the soldier (read: idiot) that I am, I pressed on and added the macaroni.
Greg Whitt
The next ingredient is a mixture of the processed cheese powder, Henny, and a shot of water. You cannot forget the shot of water.
Greg Whitt
Wrist. Wrist. Wrist.
Greg Whitt
WE GONÔÇÖ WAIT
Greg Whitt
Unlike Chef Henny, my biggest pot is not oven safe, so I transferred the Hennaroni mixture to a lightly oiled iron skillet. So far, it smells as if I spilled a shot of Henny into a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos.
Greg Whitt
Once I got it all in the skillet, I added some real cheese, another all-important shot of water, and then transferred the concoction into the oven.
Greg Whitt
WE GONÔÇÖ WAIT SOME MORE.
Greg Whitt
I’d like to share my state of mind as I waited. IÔÇÖve never been to jail before, let alone death row, but something about waiting for the cheese to melt over this unholy concoction made me feel a sense of empathy for those dead men walking. It was almost supernatural. I wondered if I might already be dead, since wasting alcohol and eating macaroni and cheese not made by a black woman over the age of 60 is my own personal version of hell.
Before I went to the bathroom mirror to ensure that I still had a reflection, I heard the oven bell sound.
Greg Whitt
Holy sh*t. If I didnÔÇÖt know what was going on, this would look damn near┬áappetizing. I mean, you could probably put melted cheese on a pair of Steph CurryÔÇÖs garbage ass sneakers and I would still at least take one┬ábite, but it was definitely┬ásurprising to see how good the dish looked coming out of the oven. Of course, as we all know, looks can be deceiving. I dug in.
Greg Whitt
Well, IÔÇÖll be damned. It actually wasn’t awful. Now we should keep in mind, that I set the bar very low. I fully expected to chuck this stuff up as soon as it hit my tongue. But it really didn’t turn out┬áthat bad. The Henny lends a subtle sweetness to the pasta, and the melted cheese is melted cheese, so no problems there. Alcohol is used in food all the time, obviously, but never to this degree.
I even briefly considered taking a second bite, until I first┬ábite land in my stomach. My poor, unsuspecting stomach lining, it had no idea what it was in for. I felt a deep gurgle in my core that sounded more like a cry for help than a noise oneÔÇÖs organs should naturally make, and I decided that the challenge eould end there. I belched up something that could singe off a pair of eyebrows, and reached for the only thing that could hold back the gastrointestinal storm that was brewing: a shot of water.
Chef Henny, youÔÇÖre a mad man and a mad scientist. I salute you for doing the work that those of us with weaker stomachs simply cannot. Good luck, and Godspeed. This is my last challenge. IÔÇÖm making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich now.