Lots of us stuffed a big hollow turkey a week ago, then roasted it. The juices soaked into the bread and joined up with onions, celery, herbs, maybe oysters or sausage (mine was venison chourizo made by my young hunter friend, Dan Tutor). The stuffing is a great flavorful treat in its own right.
Stuffing came up in a couple of emails I received this week from readers. Julia Hathaway in Bucksport sent a poem entitled “Stuffing the Bird,” recounting her memories of a mother up very early to stuff and roast a turkey, and her own progression of turkey stuffing in adulthood. Her last stanza reports reading this year the handling instructions that come with the turkey, which cautions against stuffing:
“I read the instructions
That came on the bird’s wrapping
And was delighted to see that
To prevent bacterial contamination
It was highly recommended
To roast the Tom unstuffed.”
Then, joyfully, she wrote, “Free at last! Free at last/Of the tyranny of tradition!” Well, it seems that Julia never really enjoyed stuffing as much as some of us. Of course, it takes less time to roast the bird if you don’t stuff it, but I suspect more people perish in car accidents these days than are poisoned by stuffing that goes bad before the turkey is roasted.
Perhaps Julia would rather do what Leslie Lavendar of Stockton Springs, who grew up in the South, did, and bake dressing in a pan, not in the bird. Leslie used her leftover dressing creatively: “I have made Thanksgiving Benedicts (slabs of dressing fried up in a skillet, topped with sautéed chard and two steamed eggs with very runny yolks).” Sounds yummy to me. In fact, sounds good enough to make stuffing on purpose for it.
I did stuff my turkey, and had some extra to bake, served as a side dish. Of course, I had leftovers, as I planned because it is so handy. Unlike many people, I don’t find turkey leftovers an imposition; I adore having sandwiches, and casseroles, and turkey salad. Leslie does, too; she made curried turkey. I love turkey soup, and put some away in the freezer for a quick supper on one of those hectic days in the run-up to Christmas.
Over the weekend, I whacked a large acorn squash in half and piled leftover stuffing in the hollow after I scooped out the seeds. With a vegetarian houseguest on hand, I stuffed the other side with Israeli couscous, sautéed leeks, mushrooms, and garlic, and adorned the top with a little grated cheddar. Stuffing the squash (or any other squash, like Delicatas, Dumplings, or even a small pumpkin) turns a vegetable into a main dish, especially if the stuffing has a little zing, as Dan’s chourizo did. Rice, or orzo or couscous, even bulgur, can stand in for breadcrumbs. You could skip all the bread crumbs or grains and merely stuff with sausage or a pile of finely chopped, sautéed vegetables.
So my rule, post Thanksgiving or not, is, “If it is hollow, stuff it.” If you don’t have leftover stuffing, the directions below will give you a reasonable on-the-spot stuffing.
- ½ an acorn squash per person (if for a main dish)
- Olive oil
- Onion or leeks, finely chopped
- Celery or parsley, finely chopped
- Sausage or bacon, fried and chopped up
- Dry breadcrumbs, or rice or small pasta cooked, or leftover stuffing
- Chicken, turkey, or vegetable broth
- Herbs to taste: marjoram, thyme, sage
- Salt and pepper
- Preheat the oven to 350 degrees
- Cut the squash in half and scoop out the seeds.
- Oil a baking pan and place the squash cut side down, and bake for twenty to thirty minutes or until it feels soft and a fork can pierce the flesh.
- Dribble a little oil into a sauté pan and add the onions or leeks, the celery or parsley, and lightly cook for about three minutes.
- Add the sausage or bacon bits to the vegetables and mix.
- Sprinkle in the breadcrumbs, or grains, and mix, adding just enough broth or water to moisten the stuffing.
- Season to taste with the herbs and salt and pepper.
- Pile the stuffing into the squash, and bake until the top has browned and is crisp, about ten to fifteen minutes.