For three decades, Paula and I have hosted Thanksgiving. Attendance has ranged from a half-dozen of us – pandemic numbers, ugh – to north of forty-plus. My sense is that there will be twenty gathered around our extended table on Thursday and flowing into the adjacent sunroom, where the younger generation typically sits. (We don’t really call it the “kids’ table”.)
Everyone brings something and, as the crowd gathers, it’s quickly apparent that, as in years past, food will be in ample supply. We furnish the turkey, the mashed potatoes, the dressing, and the gravy… these last two items, my responsibility. Most guests are seasoned holiday veterans, well familiar with the drill, and with how these festivities customarily play out. As hosts, we’ve also learned a thing or two over the years, which means now we’ve all arrived at a comfortable, time-honored tradition.
We gather and visit for a while. The chatter volume increases while last-minute meal prep is underway. An overcrowded buffet counter is assembled. Expressions of gratitude are lifted, and a now-absent generation is recalled. A food line forms and begins snaking its way through our galley kitchen.
Our Chicago-area daughters and their families generally do not make the pilgrimage, opting instead to gather in one of their homes. Imagine my satisfaction when the request came for Dad’s tried-and-true dressing recipe / method, shared below, our feast’s (self-described) centerpiece. Having committed my routine to writing, and immodestly thinking others might also be interested, I shared it last year in my newspaper column. Several faithful readers – okay, two – recently asked if I planned to do so again.
Hence, this pre-holiday (semi-rerun) ramble, back by not-TOO-popular demand, although never shared previously on this venue: my flexible, narrative recipe, noting in advance, it’s scaled for a crowd. If your holiday numbers are in single digits, anticipate leftovers. It’s a good thing, trust me.
First, bread. Start three-to-six months ahead of time tossing old bread in the freezer, saving it for your dressing. Since you probably didn’t know this in time, you can buy bread that’s already been cubed and dried, or can purchase loaves to prepare yourself. Be sure your bread is sufficiently dry, even if it means letting it “air cure” for 12 - 24 hours. You’ll want about 8 – 10 cups.
Second, meat. My preference is sausage dressing, which requires a pound of ground pork sausage, browned on the stovetop. Unless it’s real fatty, you won’t need to drain the grease; it adds both moisture and flavor. While your sausage is browning, rescue that packet of giblets from the bird and cook heart, neck, and gizzard for at least a half-hour in chicken broth on medium heat. The liver only needs about 10 minutes of simmering in the same liquid.
For heightened flavor, you may wish to fortify your broth with cheap white wine or beer. Cheap, since there’s no compelling reason to use the good stuff when its purpose is merely serving as a simmering juice. Having fulfilled its cooking duties, reserve this giblet liquid to “moisturize” your dressing to the extent it’s needed OR for your gravy, the meal’s other signature element. Cut the cooked giblets into small pieces, picking the neck clean of as much edible meat as possible. Be sure to trim and discard the inevitable, inedible gizzard grizzle. (Oh, I had great fun piecing together those last four words!)
If your preference leans toward a “meatier” dressing, crack open a can of SPAM, cube it into reasonably small pieces, fry it in a little oil, and voila… a significant flavor booster! Something comparable can be attained with kielbasa if some of your guests are not especially fond of SPAM… I know, hard to imagine.
Third, vegetables. I use at least two large onions, diced, and about six celery stalks, cut into manageable pieces. If you wish, you can add broccoli stems or brussels sprouts, cut into small sizes… or perhaps a cup or more of corn kernels, a nice Iowa touch. I greatly value what mushrooms add to dressing, either fresh or canned (drained, saving the liquid). I’ve also used water chestnuts, drained and sliced, for texture and tentatively plan to add them again this year.
All raw vegetables should be sautéed until softened somewhat in a half-cup of butter for maybe three minutes. The amount of butter used here is not important since it will simply be added to your dressing mixture after carrying out its brief cooking function.
Note: Some people like dried fruits in dressing… raisins, craisins, prunes, or apricots, these last two items cut into smaller pieces. A heaping cup of fruit can enhance your dressing; much more than this and you invite snide comments about “it not being a fruitcake”. You might freshen dried fruit in the microwave, heated in liquid you’ve saved or in white wine, draining off and reserving what’s not absorbed.
Fourth, spices. Sage, lots of it, like four or five tablespoons. Freshly-ground pepper should be added, although the old-fashioned pepper shaker stuff works well, too. Add salt, too, but go easy, especially if you’ve included SPAM or some other salt-cured meat. Maybe toss in a dash of rosemary or basil, perhaps some orange or lemon zest. It’s okay to innovate with spices, just don’t go overboard.
Fifth, combining. Using your largest bowl, start with bread cubes, add the cooked sausage and giblets, the sauteed vegetables and butter, plus dried fruits, if any. Note: some dressing recipes suggest adding the butter at this point. I suggest you simply use a generous portion for sauteing before pouring it into your mixture.
Toss in your desired spices and mix well. The mixture will be somewhat dry, so add liquid you’ve set aside, maybe a quarter-cup at a time, stirring after each addition to reach the desired consistency, maybe one cup of liquid total, more if needed. Go easy; you don’t want gooey or soupy dressing. It should, however, be sufficiently moist that you could form a rather loose ball prior to baking. The goal is moist, not mushy.
Then, fill the turkey cavities, careful not to overstuff. When baked in the bird, dressing will absorb some juices, making it moister. Needless to say, this recipe makes more dressing than even the largest turkey will accommodate. If you wish to call the concoction baking within the bird “stuffing”, you’re being accurate.
Place the remaining “dressing” mixture in a large oven-safe pan or bowl and bake for about an hour at 350 degrees. Watch to ensure the top doesn’t get too crusty during the final 20 minutes; if so, cover it with tin foil. When the turkey is done, extract the stuffing from its cavities. I then blend the stuffing and the dressing together before presenting the pièce de résistance in a large serving bowl.
The final product SHOULD possess considerable visual appeal, although guests are likely to cover it with gravy. Which reminds me, you’d be wise to make more gravy than you think you’ll need. Bear in mind, leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, and dressing will be reheated on Friday, and they’re all better with gravy.
Good luck… and happy Thanksgiving!
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I’m part of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative. These are my colleagues: