Every November I am struck anew by the same bewildering mystery: Where the heck did turkey stuffing come from anyway? And – even more perplexing – why? I mean, think about it, people! Yes, I know, it tastes good. But – and this is quite paradoxical – during the one season of the year when we strive to be mindful of all our blessings, to feel gratitude for family, friends and the “Do Not Call List,” how do we commemorate this time-honored American holiday? I will tell you how: by thrusting our breadcrumb-filled fists up a hapless – and hopefully thoroughly deceased – turkey’s backside!
OK, this just seems wrong on so many levels. Furthermore, is it “stuffing” or “dressing?” I use the terms interchangeably although I think “dressing” somehow seems more … well, sophisticated than “stuffing.” Although there’s no getting around the messy fact that conveying the combined ingredients into those neither turkey regions is a pretty untidy process at best. But what do I know – I am not, remember, a food writer.
Regardless of how this turkey dressing/stuffing began, it is a well-established component of the year’s biggest feast. And if you think interaction between political parties is bad these days, try telling someone that your family’s dressing is better than their family’s. Then take cover because those are fighting words, my friend.
Cooks draw from an infinite list of prospective ingredients when whipping up this staple of Thanksgiving dinner. In fact, there are probably as many ingredients for dressing as there are cooks who concoct it. In our family, turkey dressing is pretty simple stuff – seasoned cubes of bread, onions, celery, something to moisten the whole business such as melted butter or chicken broth – and voila! But simple as that process sounds, one may still encounter pitfalls along the way such as bread “cubes” versus “crumbs” – let alone the whole dried bits of cornbread controversy. I mistook “crumbs” for “cubes” one Thanksgiving and got it all wrong. The near familial mass walk-out was accompanied by strange mutterings from my spouse – something about marital “deal-breakers.”
Don’t get me wrong: I like to experiment in the kitchen as well as the next person. But when you have half a dozen pairs of eyes looking at you in pain and bewilderment because you changed one teensy iota of the dressing recipe – I mean, I couldn’t slip so much as a sesame seed in there and get away with it – you learn it’s just a whole lot easier to go with the flow than to try something brave and creative on Thanksgiving.
However your family favors its dressing, I am here to tell you that there is a whole world out there teeming with turkey stuffing extremists trying to add all manner of oddities to your favorite stuffing. Sure, there are pleasant conventional items such as chestnuts or almonds and bits of fruit or mushrooms to jazz up your recipe. Trust me; those items are on the tamer side. I mean, have you ever imagined sitting down at the table on Thanksgiving, your lovely white Belgium lace tablecloth reflected in the soft glow of candles, and dipping into a heaping mound of dressing that is made primarily of … White Castle hamburgers? Or popcorn? Or – egads! – Oysters? I mean, come on – oysters?
And then you’ve got your sausage fanatics. I am not a big fan of sausage in my stuffing, but my favorite cousin – whose mother was my mother’s sister – swears that this was the dressing that we grew up with. Personally, I think she must have been hiding under the kitchen table with the cooking sherry all those years because she obviously remembers it all wrong. Sausage in my stuffing would have been justification to switch to a whole new family. One that would have given me a larger allowance for example, because heaven knows I campaigned rigorously for a raise, but ooooooh, no! My parents wanted to teach me about “values” and “hard work is its own reward” and … ummm … Goodness – I seem to have derailed a bit and here it is, after all, nearly Thanksgiving. And I am not bitter. Of course I’m not. Nope; no bitterness here …
When I say that family traditions run deep regarding Thanksgiving fare, I am not kidding. The year our older daughter left home to attend college in Arizona, she elected to roast a turkey with all the trimmings. At her request, I sent copious, detailed instructions about how to make the dressing and stuff the turkey, emphasizing that she remember to insert some dressing into both cavities of the turkey. Not surprisingly, I received a distraught phone call Thanksgiving morning.
Distressed daughter: “OK, mom, I’m trying to put the stuffing into both cavities like you said, but my turkey has only one hole.”
Me (trying to be gentle): “Wellllll … sweetheart, excuse me but – hello!! You are a zoology major! You’ve taken anatomy classes. Wouldn’t you say that turkeys are all pretty much created equal? Think about it. And sweetie? You might want to avoid the term ‘hole’ when you are cooking. It’s kind of, um … unappetizing. So- where else might you find a ‘cavity’ to put the dressing?”
Daughter: “You mean here at the other end? Where the head … ?? Oooooooh.”
So, parents: teach your children well the ins and outs of your family’s traditional turkey dressing. And consider saving any new Thanksgiving creations for a side dish or dessert (and please don’t get me started on pies … I have ammunition for two more columns on that issue). Because – Hey! If you try something new and everybody hates it, you can just toss it and forget it. But maybe somebody will truly love it and ask for a repeat performance next year. I call that kind of cheerful coincidence icing on the cake. Or dressing in the bird. Whatever. But however you enjoy your dressing – here’s wishing you a really Happy Thanksgiving!
Gale Hammond is a 23-year Morgan Hill resident. Reach her at
Ga*********@ao*.com
.
