Jaymes

Cucina, you are my new eGG (eGullet Goddess), but I beg to differ with some of this assessment. While it's obviously true that one of the reasons we lose traditions is because people don't take the time to teach them, it is, I think MORE true, that most traditions, for good and ill, have been passed down by folks that were not even aware that's what they were doing. They were just chugging along, living life, and teaching lessons in the process. For example, no one ever said to me, "Jaymsie Mae, stop tumping over your brother's toy soldiers and get on in here because it's time to teach you to fry up a mess o' catfish." Now partly, nobody ever said that to me because that's not my name. But mostly, nobody ever said that to me because nobody ever thought to make a big formal deal about teaching me to do it. My dad was just in there frying up catfish, and I was hanging around asking if I could "hep." And I do think that consumerism was foisted upon us, in large part, as another has said, by television, and its incessant urgency to create "need." It's what they teach in marketing class. Create a need, and then fill it. But while you're out there in the rat race trying to get what you've decided you "need" (whether you really do or not), something is going to be left behind. And I think that it's the slow and easy time around the house, frying up catfish. Much quicker to nuke some fishsticks. Or better, to eat out and pay the restaurant $100 or so for a family of four a couple of times a week, and then talk about how hard it is to "make ends meet." And, despite what Robyn has imagined I meant, this isn't just about the "little woman" sitting around in her apron while big, important Daddy earns the paycheck and then begrudgingly doles out portions of it. The fact of the matter is that if Daddy comes dragging home exhausted at 10pm every night, and has to go back to the office on Saturdays, he ain't gonna be frying up much catfish either. So things change. Like those boys from Alabama say: "Song, song of the south Sweet potato pie and shut my mouth Gone, gone with the wind There ain't nobody looking back again"

But the fact of the matter is that the definition of what is required "to survive" has changed drastically. I'm not saying that it's for better or worse, but it is different. This is all phrased in a very politically correct way - but the bottom line is you're not talking about "partners" - you're talking about husbands and wives. And the husband is out in the real world - while the little woman stays home. I don't know many people in my parents' generation where the guy stayed home - and the woman went to work - or where the "partners" were both of the same sex. Robyn Actually, my "bottom line" is just what I guess I need to repeat (since you appear to have overlooked it): "I'm not saying that it's for better or worse, but it is different." And I think that our busy lives (frequently in a misguided quest of consumerism), whether for better or worse, have had the single largest impact upon all homemade food, and upon passing down the skills that, frankly, I learned at the elbow of my FATHER. The type of serious, time-intensive home cooking that was commonplace when I was a child growing up in the 40's & 50's, has now been relegated to the "hobbiest." It's a different kind of cooking, and requires one to make a concerted effort to pass along, instead of it being through a sort of culinary osmosis that one soaked up simply from being in the kitchen with the family cook. Whomever that was. And as I said, in my case it was my father. (And, just for the record, in addition to many other places, I also have lived in Alaska, where I can promise you that being "self-sufficient" has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with relying on a man. I knew many women there that packed in their cache for the winter, chopped wood, shot game, smoked fish, and in every other way imaginable were self-sufficient. And yes, they even darn socks. But they'd laugh at your notion that the term is some sort of reverse "politically-correct code-speak" for relying on men.)

And that's absolutely true. But it's a lot easier to learn the 'rudimentary skills of cooking southern foods,' or any foods, when one is hanging around your own home kitchen with the cook.

Hate to throw a wrench into our national lament about "tough times" and "working longer" to "survive." I'm a product of those days some folks think were "better" -- as opposed to our current "declining economy." I think that most of our so-called requirements to "survive" are really just our never ending demands of more, more, more. We've got our "wants" mixed up with our "needs." The days before people said they "*have* to have both partners working" were primarily a result of simpler times. In my neighborhood, everyone had only one car. It was rarely new. It was kept running by someone fixing it in the driveway, or a "shade tree mechanic" elsewhere in the neighborhood. You shared the one car, and if that didn't work, you walked or took the bus. Everyone had one TV, which you gathered around in the evening. Folks had gardens, and people "put up" food. Ordinary people rarely ate restaurant meals. Neighbors knew each other and swapped things of value, including time and skills. Sending kids to daycare, or expensive preschools, or costly private schools was reserved for the very wealthy. Items that broke got repaired, not replaced. (When was the last time any of you saw a darning sock? Even know what that is?) And self-denial and restraint were considered to be virtues. There was a saying in those days, which everyone believed and tried to live by: "Use it up. Wear it out. Make it do. Repair it or do without." Quaint notions, right? Pretty funny, right? So now, yeah, we DO need two or more incomes "to survive." But the fact of the matter is that the definition of what is required "to survive" has changed drastically. I'm not saying that it's for better or worse, but it is different. And I know people that still live simply. And even darn socks. It's a choice. I'm just saying.

Keep making your own! It'll be much better. ← Oh, I will, for sure. For one thing, cornbread is an important part of our entire Thanksgiving tradition. There's the aroma of it baking a day or two before. There's the sampling of it hot out of the skillet with lots of butter and honey. And then there's the "cornbread cereal" Thanksgiving morning. But I am curious about when Pepperidge Farm introduced their cornbread version. And sales figures as well -- how much cornbread vs regular, and is it entirely regional, or does cornbread sell in all their markets. That sort of thing.

I note that when it comes to "interesting," many folks automatically think "variety." I know I do. And, unsurprisingly, most of these candidates for "interesting food city" are seaports. Being a crossroads of the world certainly appears to tear away the kind of insular thinking that may make a city a great food city, but not necessarily an "interesting" one.

Boy, I'd love to come to your house. This sounds exquisite. As I said elsewhere, tradition at my house demands the exact same cornbread dressing for Thanksgiving year after year. But I love to make stuffings for other fall and winter meals. You've inspired me.

Jason -- Pepperidge Farm sells both a white bread "Herb Stuffing" mix, and a Cornbread Dressing mix. Did any of your research happen to mention when they introduced their cornbread mix? I've never tried it, although as I said, I do use the white bread one. Cornbread is so easy to make, and I like the crusty bits from the bottom of the cast iron skillet, that I've never even been tempted to try Pepperidge Farm's version. But now I'm curious.

That's nice. Anything that you usually make with chicken. And there are LOTS of wonderful chicken dishes. In addition to the obligatory turkey stew with either rice, potatoes or noodles (I try to vary it from year to year according to my mood), we often have: Turkey a la King King Ranch Turkey Turkey Cacciatory Tortilla Soup Avgolemono

"Don't be a turkey for Thanksgiving! Cut the cord and cook something else." You mean in addition to the turkey? Sorry, but the way my kids put it to me the one time I tried, "There are 364 other days in the year when you can cook whatever you want, Mom, but this is Thanksgiving." I decided they had a point. Traditions don't necessarily come easily, and are not to be taken lightly. And as for the gravy, I remove the turkey from the roaster and set it aside to rest. Then I put the roaster onto the stovetop, across two burners, and set the heat to medium. I sprinkle the flour into the roaster, and with my largest wooden spoon, make a roux, scraping up all those delicious brown bits from roasting the turkey. I lay a bed of carrots and celery across the bottom of the roasting pan for the turkey to sit on so that his little bottom doesn't burn; and now, I discard the veggies, but their flavor lingers on. Since I stuff the dressing into the turkey, there are always fallen bits of that as well. When I've got my roux nicely browned into a rich golden color, and there's no raw flour flavor left to ruin my gravy, I slowly add the stock (in which I have been simmering the turkey neck, gizzard, heart, etc.). I allow it to thicken slightly (good giblet gravy is relatively thin, in my view). At the last minute, I pour in a little cream, some white wine, the chopped meat from the neck, heart, gizzard, and one chopped, hardboiled egg. Then I taste for seasonings: salt, white pepper, etc. Who knows, maybe there's better giblet gravy out there, but I never get any complaints.

I love Belize, but if there's one thing that I find truly disappointing, it's the quality of the food. Actually, I find it more than disappointing, I find it positively mystifying. A friend posits that it's a result of the long British occupation of what was "British Honduras." Rather than an emphasis on the bounty of Belize's native foods, or the development of any indigenous cultural cuisine, it seems to be based on such things as tinned, imported items, and bland, unimaginative preparation of local staples. I don't know. Maybe it's there and I just couldn't find it. But I have to say that of all the places I've traveled, and I've traveled a lot, Belize has by far the worst food. Sorry, and I sure hope that others chime in here and offer good ideas. Not only to benefit you, but me as well, since I plan to visit there again. But unfortunately, for starters, what I'd suggest you do is to lower your expectations. At least in so far as dining goes. Although the country itself is spectacular.

I like Hong Kong for just that reason. It also has the lingering colonial atmosphere, which offers wonderful Continental cuisine as well.

And often, when faced with true tragedy in the life of a friend, we don't know what to say. We want to make it better, but know that although words cannot take the pain away, ill-chosen ones can definitely make it worse. And so, we say nothing. But showing up with a casserole, or stew, or plate of cookies expresses what we wish we could say, but cannot. I care. You're in my thoughts. And prayers. And heart. I love you. My friend.

Very interesting, indeed. Folks that don't routinely make cornbread dressing/stuffing might not know this, but it isn't made from ALL cornbread crumbs. It's a mixture of cornbread and white bread, as in my recipe, and fifi's, and everybody else's I've ever seen. Sometime in the late 50's, I believe, my mother began using the Pepperidge Farm white-bread-based "Herb Stuffing" for the white bread portion of her cornbread dressing. And that's what I do today. I agree that it's a good product.

Until a true Yankee steps in and answers your question, I'll volunteer an un-expert opinion. I do from time to time make white-bread based stuffings -- oyster, sausage, apple, etc., although not for the traditional holidays of Thanksgiving or Christmas, because my little ritual-loving family wouldn't stand for that. When I make a white-bread-based stuffing/dressing, I never add raw eggs (although I always do with the cornbread dressing). I frankly never even thought about doing it, believing that the white bread likely isn't strong enough to hold up to the raw eggs. It'd probably turn out more like white bread pudding. In my cornbread dressing, you can't really tell that raw eggs were added. It just makes it more moist and helps bind it together. After all, I'm talking about 2 eggs to some 7 cups of other ingredients.

I simply can't get this concept out of my mind. I actually remember when Stove Top came out, and it wasn't in anybody's great granny's heyday. What did your families do before Stove Top? SOMEBODY's grandmother must have been making it from scratch. Why didn't it get passed down from generation to generation like other great culinary traditions? I am sure that the basic recipe I use, like many others in this thread, was the same basic recipe used back 150 years in my family. Sure, there has been tinkering, and minor additions, but if my great, great, great grandmother suddenly appeared in my kitchen, she'd recognize that dressing as being pretty much the same as hers. Jason, when you and Rachel and other "New York Metro Jews" talk to the matriarchs of your family, what were they using BEFORE Stove Top? And why did those traditions fall by the wayside?

Wow. That's really interesting. I wonder how that happened? I just always thought 'dressing' was used south of the Mason Dixon line. That is intriguing.

This may be true...I don't know. I've never noticed it being bitter, and since I use the giblet stock for my gravy, which is of course cloudy, wouldn't notice that part, either. I do put the liver in last, and just for a very few minutes since it doesn't take long to cook, and then chop it up along with the other organ meats, and pull the meat from the neck. I also chop up a hard-cooked egg, and add that, too, to the giblet gravy. You could be right....again...I've never personally noticed it.

King Ranch Chicken

Well, there's a reason why 'comfort food' is called that. And why 'welcoming others to your table' has many connotations. As does 'nourishment.' Rosanne Barr used to tell a funny story about 'fat mom' vs 'skinny mom.' "Say you've had a bad day at school," she'd ask. "You forgot your homework, flunked your exam, got dumped by your boyfriend, he's now with your best girlfriend, you tripped in the cafeteria and all the kids laughed at you. Which mom would you rather have, the one that says, 'Oh my, that's terrible. Let's have some brownies and cookies and ice cream and a cup of hot cocoa.'; or one that says, 'Oh my, that's terrible. Let's have some celery stalks and jog around the block.'?"

Yes, and that's really the lesson here, isn't it? When a person is feeling sorry for themselves and miserable over some silly something, something not all that important in the larger scheme of things, perhaps they should remind themselves that some folks are dealing with true tragedies, like yours, adeqiulio, and like others in this thread. Kinda puts the "other things" that some folks can get all wrapped around the axel over into perspective, doesn't it?

About two years ago, I was rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery. I damn near died. Recovering from surgery, I had IV's dripping morphine and medication. And pints of blood, giving whole new meaning to depending upon the kindness of strangers. I had tubes up my nose and down my throat. And I could eat nothing. My breakfast, lunch and dinner arrived straight into my veins without passing go, without pausing to tempt eyes, nose, palate. Days passed like this, then weeks. So what food did I dream of? What was it that I would indulge in as soon as I was able? Cake batter. That's right. It was cake batter. Cake batter that when I closed my eyes I could see pouring, always pouring, in a luscious, golden stream from the stainless steel mixing bowl into the baking pan. Cake batter that I could smell. Cake batter that I could taste. Cake batter that I licked from spatula, beaters, bowl. Cake batter that in my dreams I ate until I made myself sick. I puzzled about this for some time. Why wasn't I envisioning a steak, or BBQ, or my beloved Mexican food? Finally I realized that it wasn't just the cake batter itself for which I longed, but all that it represented. Me, in my own kitchen, mixing up something good, pouring it, anticipating the taste, cooking for my family, my friends, surrounded with warmth and love, giving and receiving and sharing. I'm in my kitchen and God's in His heaven and all's right with the world.

Yep. You're really right about that. I boil the neck and gizzards, liver, heart, etc., to make a wonderful turkey stock, which is what I use for the giblet gravy. In my early wifely years, I'd buy a separate small turkey breast, or leg or something and make additional stock a day or so before to add to the dressing, since I use all my giblet stock for the gravy. But I don't do that anymore. Guess I'm just getting lazy as I begin contemplating picking up my first social security check. Ah well.

And that's really what's it's all about during these traditional holidays. We want what we had when we were growing up, taking part in these rituals, gathered around our family table. My very first memories of Thanksgiving dinner were at my grandmother's house. The saintly person we called "Old Grandma" did the cooking. Old Grandma was my grandmother's mother. She died in 1955 at the age of 104. The recipe for cornbread dressing that I use had its base with Old Grandma, and probably went back even further than that. Each generation of cooks, including my grandmother, my mother, and I, have "tinkered" with it. I sometimes add a dash of poultry seasoning, for example. I don't think that was even available in the days when I hung around my grandmother's kitchen, watching fascinated as Old Grandma hunched over a huge ceramic bowl, her skinny arm and bony fingers revolving as she slowly mixed the dressing. For whatever it's worth, I'm adding a list of the ingredients I use. As with most recipes of this type, handed down through the generations, the amounts listed are just suggestions. Actually, since I'm sorta trying to remember this as I go along, they're more like guesses, so anyone that wants to give this a go, take your time and use your best judgment and if it doesn't work out, well hey, there's always Stove Top. Southern Cornbread Dressing 1 C white bread crumbs (okay, so I use Pepperidge Farm Herb Stuffing) 3 C cornbread crumbs (from your own unsweetened cornbread recipe) 2 onions, chopped 2 C celery, chopped 1/4 cup butter 2 hard-cooked eggs, chopped 3 T chopped parsley 2 tsp poultry seasoning, or thyme, or other favorite herb 1 1/2 t sage 1 1/2 t granulated chicken bouillion (or to taste; I use this instead of salt, if you don't like it, use salt) 1 t ground black pepper dash nutmeg 2 raw eggs, beaten slightly 1/4 C chicken broth Put the butter and the onions and the celery in a glass cup and microwave briefly until the vegetables are limp. Set aside. In a large bowl, combine all of the dry ingredients and stir until well mixed. Combine the beaten eggs and the chicken broth. Add them to the melted butter and vegetables and combine. Add the wet ingredients to the dressing and stir until well combined. Taste for seasonings in bite that doesn't have any onion in it, and correct seasonings. Stuff into turkey cavity, or turn out into baking dish. I add a little extra melted butter and chicken broth if I'm going to be baking it in a pan.