So here's how it probably went down. Two chefs, clearly at the top of their games, were sitting around the kitchen when one turns to the other and says, "Hey, remember that mac and cheese you made the other night?" "The one with muenster, and cheddar, and gruyere?" "Is that the one that made my pants a little smaller." "That's the one." "Well, let's get a ball of that, and fucking fry it." Then, they pause. Their eyes slowly scan the horizon moving left, then right, then back again. In a flash, they begin to ravage each other. Toques, and aprons, and checkered pants soar from their sweaty, contorted limbs. Hours of intense, visceral, animalistic boning ensues. Then they fry up a couple of the little delicacies and the world is forever thankful.