Or is it dressing? What do you say? Truth be told, I grew up with “dressing” but I guess I’ve been indoctrinated to call it “stuffing” by all those Stove Top packages and commercials. If we’re being technical, I suppose that it’s “stuffing” if it’s cooked inside of a bird (chicken, turkey, etc.) and “dressing” if it’s cooked in a separate pan and served alongside. So I guess this is dressing. But anyway.

Speaking of the dressing that I grew up with….I was not a fan. I am now, but this is definitely different from the cornbread dressing that my mom makes. I hated sage (and still do, in its dried form, anyway…but fresh sage is a whole other animal altogether) and wasn’t really a fan of cornbread, either (I know, right? My how things change.). My mom never-and I mean never-made Stove Top when I was growing up, and I am sure that my grandmother would have died before allowing that stuff in her kitchen. I guess I discovered it when I was in college and man did I love that stuff. I would eat nothing but Stove Top for lunch, dinner, whatever on many a night in my apartment dorm. When I got married the Stove Top tradition continued.

I don’t remember the last time I bought Stove Top. I think it was a few years ago to make a casserole a friend had given me a recipe for (that I think also contained canned cream of chicken soup-WHAT? Yes, that person was me.). I didn’t stop buying it because I didn’t like the flavor. I stopped buying it because I figured out how processed it was. The first time that I made my own stuffing from scratch I knew Stove Top was off the table, quite literally.

My sister-in-law sent me the link to the blog Simply Scratch one day last week. Perusing some of the recent posts, I noticed a recipe for bacon & leek stuffing, which I quickly pinned to my Yep, We Eat Actual Meals, Too board because I had all the ingredients in my kitchen at that moment. And this has bacon and leeks. Two of my favorite things. I added some dried cranberries too, just because I could. It was delicious, but next time I make it I will add more bacon….honestly, I didn’t taste the bacon very much. Maybe 6-8 slices instead of 4….what can I say? I love bacon. I also wish that I had toasted the pecans. In fact, I had that thought as I made this, but there just wasn’t time because I chopped the pecans last and had the thought the second I was chopping them. Paired with some green beans (also cooked with bacon, I confess!) and some cranberry sauce still in a jar in my fridge from Thanksgiving, it felt like a mini-Thanksgiving meal. And I’m looking forward to these leftovers, too!

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https://chattavore.com/pinterest-test-kitchen-bacon-leek-stuffing/

I suppose this is a “retro” recipe. It’s my grandmother’s recipe, and while I don’t remember it at all, it seems like everyone else that ever ate at her table or shared recipes with her does. My mom mentioned these multiple times as we combed through my grandmother’s little orange recipe binder, then again this summer as we went through the binders my aunt brought with her from Texas. We never found it. The daughters of my late grandparents’ neighbor both mentioned this recipe to me after reading my blog…apparently it’s a holiday favorite in their family. So, I asked one of them for the recipe.

Artichokes are one of my favorites. Their hardy texture holds up so well and they have a flavor that is both distinctive and adaptable. Just think about all of the dips that artichokes blend into so seamlessly…in fact, that’s how I fell in love with artichokes (and if you are an artichoke lover, I’d be willing to bet dips had a role in that too). I recall visiting TGIFriday’s in downtown Chattanooga on a field trip my senior year of high school. It’s funny to think about it, but back in the mid-nineties it almost seemed exotic to me (ha!) and my freshman year of college my roommates and I went there constantly. The spinach-artichoke dip quickly became an obsession, and thus began my love affair with the esteemed artichoke. Believe it or not, though, I’ve yet to cook a whole artichoke. Every summer I tell myself I’m going to try, but I fear the weighty deconstruction of the complicated orbs. I’ll get around to it one of these days.

Every time I prepare one of my grandmother’s recipes, I wonder how she would feel about my “take” on it. It’s funny, my grandmother came of age and raised her children in a time where “convenience” and processed foods were new and exciting; homemakers saw them as a way to take some of the load off of their shoulders. TV dinners were king and my grandmother was all about margarine (Mazola, anyone?) and packaged breads. Would she think that I’m crazy, taking a step backward into a time when women were saddled with the full weight of food preparation baking their own bread, mixing their own pie crusts, and heating their own cranberries rather than opening a can of sliceable jelly for Thanksgiving dinner? I did all of the above this week.

In adapting this recipe, I also eschewed the dried basil because I see no use in using dried herbs when you can use fresh. I skipped the canned artichokes because I don’t care for their briny flavor that much, instead using two boxes of frozen artichokes that I had thawed on the counter all day. Sadly, Publix was all out of my beloved Cento brand San Marzano tomatoes so I had to just use regular Italian whole tomatoes. I considered sprinkling the top with some Parmigiano-Reggiano and Pecorino Romano cheeses that I had in my fridge but feared that would be taking it too far. Next time, I probably will, though. Served in my grandmother’s eighties-style amber Pyrex dish replete with wicker holder, this dish fit right in on my family’s Thanksgiving table. It was delicious, too. I’m sad I never tasted my grandmother’s version of it, but I’m sure it will become a tradition renewed in my family.

To chiffonade basil, first stack the leaves together then roll them tightly. Use a sharp knife to slice, not chop, the leaves into thin ribbons.