Yesterday, faced with the tragedy of an emptying kitchen, I stopped at the In-and-Out in Dharmsala on my way home from work. I sought only muesli, soy milk, cookies, and other such daily needs. Making my way down one of the two aisles, I found my soy milk and my breakfast, but then I saw it.
Tucked into a corner between the muesli and the instant idli mixes were the familiar blue and orange boxes from my childhood: Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. Seizing four boxes into my arms, I was swept away by the thrill of encountering my first love. It had braved all obstacles to find me in this remote part of the world.
Cookies forgotten, I took my Mac and Cheese to the counter, only to discover that it had been so recently stocked that no one knew what its price was supposed to be. While the two cashiers punched fruitlessly at their computers, searching for a price, I was joined at the counter by another foreign woman, also clutching a box of Mac & Cheese in her hands.
We exchanged feelings of mutual thrill at finding our beloved dinner on such an unlikely shelf. I admitted to having long finished off the supply of Mac & Cheese that my parents had mailed me while she lamented that, of the ten packets of cheese sauce she brought with her, very few were left.
She asked me if I was a fellow Canadian, as Canadians enjoy Mac & Cheese more than any other people in the world. I replied that I was a Minnesotan, but I may as well be Canadian for my love of Macaroni and Cheese.
Finally, the clerks discovered that each box was only 150 rupees, so we paid and parted ways, me with my macaroni and she with hers. Although the bus I rode home was one of the most crowded I have ever ridden and my bags were heavy with groceries, I hardly noticed, the lightness of excitement of my dinner date for that evening sending me floating home.
At home, I made my Macaroni & Cheese, and it was delicious.
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