I picked up my locally-raised, organically-fed, free-range turkey from Mimi Fueling of Cascade Creek Farms last week. It looked as good as can be expected from a naked dead bird in a clear plastic sack. There is no doubt in my mind that once it has been roasted for a few hours, it will be gorgeous and golden on the outside and moist and tender on the inside. It will be delicious and we will all enjoy it, but in my mind, it will only be a side show to the stuffing.
Stuffing is what makes the Thanksgiving meal. Sure, candied yams are good, mashed potatoes with gravy are pretty tasty, and any kind of pie for dessert is a treat, but the meal isn’t worth fussing over if there isn’t stuffing.
I’m not sure what it is about stuffing that makes it the centerpiece of the meal for me. It doesn’t really matter what kind of stuffing it is (even those lame croutons in a bag they pass off as stuffing mix will do in a pinch) as long as there is lots of it. Two or more kinds of stuffing cooked both inside and outside of the bird (food safety be damned) and I am in heaven.
Stuffing, in the Thanksgiving sense of the word, has probably been around since we figured out how to raise birds for food production. I imagine eating chicken cooked the same way day after day got pretty boring until someone realized you could cook your side dish inside the bird at the same time. Documents about cooking from ancient Rome mention stuffing recipes to place inside all kinds of small animals, including dormice. Since then we’ve been thinking up millions of combinations of foods to stuff inside the hollow spaces we find on our cooking path.
Food cultures around the world stuff one kind of food inside another. A few examples that come to mind are ravioli, chili rellenos, and wontons. We also stuff meat from one part of an animal into another, such as sausages and haggis. Maybe it’s the combination of flavors and textures that promotes this culinary exploration. Maybe we don’t like to waste any of the bits and pieces. Or maybe, in the case of stuffing the empty cavities of animals we are going to eat with bits of dried bread and anything else we might have lying around the house, it’s that we just don’t want to waste all that space.
No ingredient can be dismissed as a possible addition to a stuffing mix. Most stuffing starts with a base of starch: white bread, corn bread, rice, or potatoes are the most common. Meats of all kinds turn up in recipes; I’ve seen liver, bacon, sausage, oysters, giblets from the turkey, and ground lamb in recipes. If you are vegetarian you can use eggs or tofu. Nuts, such as pecans or chestnuts can form the base of the stuffing or hazelnuts can add a little pizzazz. Fruits, both dried and fresh can be added, and, of course, vegetables of all kinds, but especially celery, carrots and onions. I’ve had amazing morel mushroom stuffing and stuffing with what seemed like a little bit of everything the chef could find thrown in. The liquids used to moisten the whole conglomeration go from tame chicken broth to hardcore straight bourbon whiskey, with wine and port somewhere in between.
With so many delicious possibilities for homemade stuffing, I was appalled to learn that something like 60 million families will suffer through Stove Top stuffing this year. There is too much room for improvisation, personal taste, and experimentation in stuffing to leave the making of it to some giant corporation who mass produces a flavorless impersonator. Besides, it’s really easy to make and probably costs less to make it from scratch.
Here’s the basic gist of stuffing: cut up some day old bread into cubes and let them sit out overnight or cook up some rice or diced potatoes. Dice up a selections of veggies; onions, carrots and celery are traditional but use what you have. Sauté these in some type of fat. Add anything else that sounds good like fruit, nuts or pre-cooked meat. Season with herbs of your choice (sage and thyme are traditional) and salt and pepper. Add the bread, rice or potatoes and mix well, adding enough liquid of your choice to just moisten the mixture. Stuff your bird or place the mixture in a baking dish and cook with the turkey for the last 45 minutes. If you are cooking it separately (and it is safer that way, just not as tasty), keep it covered for most of the cooking time but make sure to uncover and crisp up the top (by far the best part in my opinion) before serving.
Of course, an article about stuffing is not complete without a brief discussion about terminology. Growing up in New Jersey, I never heard of stuffing referred to as dressing. Dressing was something you put on salad or a wound. Since then, I occasionally run into someone who insists that the stuff you stuff inside a turkey is called dressing. This seems absurd. I could understand if you called gravy dressing, since it does cover or dress the turkey and mashed potatoes but there is nothing in the definition of the word dress that indicates it is something stuffed inside something else. Alas, it was the prissy Victorian who caused all these problems. The word stuffing offended their delicate sensibilities and so was replaced by the much more proper though much less accurate word dressing.
I say to hell with Victorian propriety, and please pass me the stuffing so I can have seconds.
Vicki Reich will be celebrating Thanksgiving in Sagle and will serve at least two kinds of stuffing and three kinds of pie. She’ll be the one sneaking bites of the crispy bits off all the dishes. She can be contacted at wordomouth@yahoo.com.
Vicki’s Go-To Stuffing recipe for the past 3 years
Makes enough for a 18-20 pound turkey
Adapted from The New Basics Cookbook by Julee Rosso and Sheila Luikens
2 T. butter
2 c. diced celery
2 c. diced onions
1 c. diced carrots
1 lb Italian sausage
2 c. apples, chopped
1 c toasted and skinned hazelnuts, chopped
1 c. dried cranberries
6 c. stale bread, cubed
1 t salt
1 T. fresh thyme, chopped
1 T. fresh sage, chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
1 c Port
1 c. chicken broth
Heat butter in a large skillet. Saute the celery, onions and carrots over medium low heat until softened. Transfer the vegetables to a large bowl.
Add the sausage to the skillet and cook through, breaking up the sausage into small pieces as it cooks. Transfer to the bowl with the veggies. Add the apples, nuts, and cranberries to the bowl with the veggies and sausage. Mix well. Add the bread cubes and toss. Add the herbs, salt and peper. Toss lightly. Add the port and broth. Toss until well blended.
If you are daring or are as old as I am and have lived through many years of eating stuffing cooked inside a turkey, loosely stuff the stuffing inside the turkey. Roast the turkey according to your turkey recipe. If you like your stuffing safer and crispier, place in a large baking, cover with aluminum foil and place it in the oven with the turkey for the last 45 minutes. Uncover to crisp the top during the last 15 minutes.
They call it the Stripper Model Nuptial Blanket because each of them knit a strip from yarn spun just for this purpose (from a fleece from Sarah Swett's stash) and then they sewed them together into the most amazing blanket EVER. (The Stripper Model deliniates it from other blankets and afghans the group has made by sewing together knit squares instead of strips. The Stripper Model is far superior and I am honored to have this first one)
The blanket came with a book. It records for posterity the e-mail conversations that went on for months behind my back, including a brief scare when an e-mail mistakenly went out with my address included and I almost found out. The back side of the blanket has beautiful handmade tags so I'll always know who made which strip. 
Now that the weather has turned toward winter, I find myself wrapped up in it in front of the fire. It's warm and snuggly and it's like being wrapped up in the arms of my dear friends.
