The United States of stuffing

Once upon a Thanksgiving, my grandmother needed a recipe

1
Michael and Vincenza Mazzola and some of their grandchildren, not including John Lehndorff.

Stuffing is the Rorschach test of American foods. Tell me how you stuff your turkey and I’ll tell you who you are, where you’re from and how you feel about your family.

Even discussing the subject offends purists who believe that their families’ stuffing is the only one that matters, with some insisting on calling it “dressing” whether it’s in or out of the bird. To me, dressing is what you put on something like a salad.

Your family’s stuffing may include bread, oysters, cornbread, crackers, apples or rice, and there is nothing wrong with that. My family has always stuffed the turkey with Italian sausage and mashed potatoes. For the past three decades I’ve written about the stuffing for various publications, including newspapers around the country, and I’ve told roughly the same story about its origins. I thought I knew it all. I was wrong.

My stuffing tradition is barely one generation old. My mom’s parents, Vincenza “Nanna” and Michael “Papa” Mazzola, grew up in Sicily before settling in Willimantic, Connecticut, in the early 1900s. My dad and his parents grew up in Vienna. Wienerschnitzel they knew. Turkey, not so much.

Michael (Papa) and Vincenza (Nanna) Mazzola operated Mazzola’s Market in Willimantic, Connecticut.
Michael (Papa) and Vincenza (Nanna) Mazzola operated Mazzola’s Market in Willimantic, Connecticut. Lehndorff Family

The story goes that when Nanna needed to serve Thanksgiving dinner she asked a French woman who rented an apartment in the building where Nanna and Papa had an Italian market what to do. She suggested stuffing the bird with meat and potatoes. Nanna substituted Papa’s famous Italian sausage and history was made. Nanna taught my mom, Rose, and she taught me and I taught my son.   

The way I make it is to crumble sweet and hot Italian sausage and cook it in a large castiron skillet with chopped onions and garlic. I boil peeled spuds in a big pan I inherited from Nanna by way of mom. I add the mashers to the sausage along with turkey broth, butter, salt, pepper, more butter and sage. The best moment is that first taste of the combination, which I will modestly state is among the best comfort foods on the planet and absolutely addictive, especially after it is scooped from the gobbler glistening with fat.

Last week, for no particular reason, I decided to ask other family members about the stuffing. I learned three things:

1) Many folks in my family don’t make or eat the stuffing at Thanksgiving but readers around the country do.

2) My Italian family makes the recipe differently from me. 

3) I had the stuffing story and the recipe slightly wrong for 40 years.

After consulting with my cousin, Joanne, who talked to her 95-year-old mom, my amazing Aunt Josie, I learned more. Nanna actually got the recipe from a French-Canadian woman named Rose and then it all clicked for me. The Canadian turkey stuffing, or forte, is the same as the filling in their classic double-crusted tourtière pork pies, something I ate when I was a college student in Montreal.

Nanna’s recipe included Italian sausage, sage, diced celery and two ingredients I never added: chopped fresh fennel and pignoli (pine nuts).

Joanne reminded me that Papa wasn’t just a great butcher. He owned restaurants and apartment buildings and operated a limousine service. He also made wine in the basement, but I’m not supposed to mention that. Not bad for someone who never learned to read or write.

The following recipe is not one that I actually follow in my pre-Thanksgiving ritual. I just cook and taste. Feel free to use different meats (or none) and different spicing. You can mix Idaho bakers, red-skinned boilers and Yukon Golds, and leave the skins on if you like. The leftovers can be panfried as stuffing cakes and served with poached eggs or frozen to emerge as a fine ready-made side dish on a week night in February. Make it your own and let me know how it turns out.

On Thanksgiving I’ll be grateful to celebrate with my son, my sister and dear friends. I’ll toast my immigrant ancestors and pass the stuffing and gravy. For this and much more I am deeply grateful. I wish a happy Thanksgiving to one and all.

Italian Sausage and Potato Stuffing

5 to 6 pounds (approx.) potatoes, peeled and chunked
3 pounds (approx.) Italian sweet sausage
1 pound (approx.) Italian hot sausage
3 yellow onions, minced
3 or more large cloves garlic, minced
1/2 pound butter (or more)
1/2 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper, or to taste
Salt, to taste
1 tablespoon poultry seasoning or ground sage, to taste
Turkey or chicken broth, as needed
Optional: minced fresh celery; minced fresh fennel; 1/2 cup pine nuts

Boil potatoes in plenty of water until barely tender, not mushy. Drain, place in large pot over low heat, add butter and mash. Crumble sausage in a frying pan with onions and garlic and cook until pink is gone. Drain the fat. Add sausage to potatoes along with seasonings and stir. Add broth or more butter if too dry. Taste and adjust seasonings. When it’s time, push it into the empty nooks and crannies of the bird and roast as always. Cook more stuffing on the side so there is enough to go around.

Local Food News

Saturday is the final day of the 2016 season at the Boulder County Farmers Market in Boulder and Longmont. Stock up on apples and more while you can. Plan ahead for the 10th Annual BCFM Winter Market, Dec. 3-4, at the Boulder County Fairgrounds with more than 70 local vendors of produce, prepared food, gifts, arts and home goods.

New On the Shelves

Sriracha sauce with tomatoes can be blended with cheese instead of the iconic Ro-Tel.
Sriracha sauce with tomatoes can be blended with cheese instead of the iconic Ro-Tel. John Lehndorff

I suppose it was inevitable that Sriracha hot sauce would someday meet up with Velveeta. The new Sriracha and tomatoes combo can replace Ro-Tel tomatoes with green chilies in the iconic cheese nacho dip or liven up a taco. Meanwhile, Pringles has released the new seasonal Sugar Cookie-flavored Pringles potato chips, an insult to both potato chips and holiday cookies. I wouldn’t leave these for Santa.

Words to Chew On

“American food is polyglot and problematic, multi-varied, confused, stained with a thousand national sins. But it is our own. And we should be proud of it. … Food, more than a vague and ambiguous democracy, may yet be the truest expression of who we are, and why we, as a country, matter.” — Josh Ozersky

John Lehndorff is the former dining critic of the Rocky Mountain News. From 8:30 to 9:30 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning, Lehndorff will help callers with feast day cooking questions on KGNU (88.5 FM, 1390 AM, kgnu.org). Comments: nibbles@boulderweekly.com.