That Kraft dinosaur had something going for him when he sang, “I’ve got the Blues.” I, too, have the blues. I wasted my youth eating Kraft.
Sarita’s Mac and Cheese, better known as S’mac (345 12th St. between First and Second avenues), is an East Village eatery that serves up a mean macaroni and cheese skillet that puts store-bought brands to shame.
With over 10 different types of haute preparations of my childhood favorite, S’mac makes eating out easy, nostalgic, and pleasurable.
The eatery is unpretentious and not much to look at. In fact, if it weren’t for its distinctive orange and yellow color-scheme, it would be impossible to distinguish it from any of the other buildings lining the block.
Thankfully, its founders Sarita and Caesar Ekya whipped out their 64-box of Crayola crayons just in time to create macaroni & cheese heaven, choosing the macaroni and cheese Crayola crayon color to dominate the color scheme. Go figure.
In the same way that one can feel a sharp (and always welcome) temperature spike in a foyer waiting-area in February, one can feel the air difference inside of S’mac. It feels the same way when the dentist protects you with a lead blanket before taking mouth x-rays: comforting, heavy, and impossible to lift. It feels like cheese. It feels like home.
There are very few decorations. There are three paintings, one of which shows garden vegetables that are unwelcome amid the cheese haze, and another that shows a simple poster of macaroni and cheese, which seems appropriate. Both are affixed to homey brick walls.
The interior decorator had a stroke of genius with the lighting fixtures—they remind the eater of noodles. The single hanging lamp shades are yellow-orange and the larger light fixtures hang five of the same lamp shades from a short, silver, curved “noodle.”
In addition to macaroni and cheese, S’mac’s decor seems to also revolve around skillets. The open/closed sign on the door is shaped like a skillet, and the restaurant’s logo is displayed inside of a skillet. The table numbers are also printed on construction paper skillets in the same way that my Garden Lite (white cheddar, Parmesan, broccoli, portobello mushrooms, roasted cauliflower, garlic, and scallions) macaroni and cheese and my friend’s Alpine (gruyere cheese and bacon) were served in skillets (both $7.25).
S’mac sizes its skillets like Starbucks sizes its coffee. It invents categories to completely transport its patrons from the city streets back to mom’s kitchen, where macaroni and cheese flows like the never-ending supply of Vegan Beef at John Jay. I ordered a nosh (or small skillet), while those around me with larger appetites and penchants for premature heart disease opted for the Major Munch, the Mongo, or the eight-compartment Sampler Platter.
One customer who found S’mac through a special on the Food Network thought she made the right choice. “This is not your Velveeta or your Kraft. My kids grew up on macaroni and cheese. They still do,” she said while her daughter, eating the Buffalo Chicken flavor, nodded in agreement.
When the marathon to finals starts to give Columbians the blues, they can turn that frown upside down by letting the macaroni and cheese experts at S’mac ease their woes.
Elyssa Goldberg is a Columbia College first year. Feast for the Eyes runs alternate Fridays.
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