I have forgotten about Boston Market for a while, which is an utter shame.
For all those reading who hail from the Apex/Cary area, the Boston Market on Kildaire Farm should have been a regular visit in your life. Even better for me was the close proximity of this restaurant to my childhood church.
Boston Market has a reasonably wide selection of foods — turkey, chicken, meatloaf, brisket, mashed potatoes, veggies, sweet potato casserole. But the reason to go to Boston Market was for the mac n’ cheese.
The noodles are spiraled curly q’s that are covered — smothered really — with this warm cheese sauce, resulting in every preteen’s* favorite meal.
*or teenage. or adult. anyone really. mac n’ cheese is not ageist.
When church would end on those fall Sundays growing up, my brothers and I would try to leave church even faster than usual (which never happened because my mom always signed us up to do some kind of manual labor around the church; if I had a nickel for the amount of chairs I’ve set up, I’d be rich and it would be completely because of Resurrection Lutheran).
Jonah, Lucas, Christopher and I would sprint into Boston Market, from our family’s prototypical grey Honda Odyssey, and press our faces against the glass covering the food. We were probably in the 12-10-8-5 age ranges, and the poor Boston Market employees did NOT know what they were getting into.
So, for the amateurs who have never been to the market before, a normal meal would be so type of meat plus two sides. My meat was usually a couple thick slices of turkey plus two monster sides of macaroni. This technically was not “allowed” by the restaurant’s rules but if you were going to tell these mac-obsessed kids that they had to eat a side of mashed potatoes, then you also probably take pleasure in telling kindergarteners Santa isn’t real.
In total, I can say that I believe I have eaten more 100 lbs of Boston Market mac n’ cheese in my life. Should I be embarrassed by that?