Classic Cuisine by Modern Means: Let’s talk about the sides for Thanksgiving

By Bernie G.

Last November, we spent our time talking turkey—literally. We went through the different ways to prepare the centerpiece of the Thanksgiving table: roasting, brining, frying, smoking and all the various ways we convince ourselves that this year we’ve finally discovered the perfect turkey.

But I have a confession to make.

The turkey isn’t the star of Thanksgiving dinner.

It’s the stuffing. In fact, I’m willing to go a step further: stuffing is the true entrée of Thanksgiving dinner. The turkey is just there to make the whole thing socially acceptable.

Stuffing has always been my favorite part of the meal, and it is the one item on the Thanksgiving table that I am absolutely, positively going back for seconds. Turkey? Maybe. Mashed potatoes? We’ll see. Stuffing? There was never a question.

There are a thousand different ways to make it, and every family seems to have its own version. Mine takes some inspiration from the great Paula Deen, but, as usual, we’re going to tinker with things. Start with your bread. You can use dried bread cubes, breadcrumbs or a combination of the two. But here’s one of my secrets: saltine crackers.

Crush them up and mix them in with the bread. They add a different texture and, more importantly, soak up all that wonderful stock, butter and flavor. Depending on what I have around, I’ll even add some cooked rice to the mixture. Thanksgiving stuffing is not a place where we need to be overly concerned with rigid rules.

Then comes the meat.We live in Northeast Pennsylvania, so put some good local flavor into it. Brown up some Schiff’s breakfast sausage and fold it into the stuffing. You can also use bacon—or, because this is Thanksgiving and calories cease to exist until Friday morning, use both.

Onions and celery go into the pan with plenty of butter. Let them soften and become fragrant before combining everything. Then add your stock gradually. You want stuffing that is moist and rich, but you’re making stuffing, not bread soup.

And then there’s sage. Use fresh sage if you can find it. It absolutely transforms the dish and gives you that unmistakable Thanksgiving aroma. But proceed with caution. Fresh sage is potent stuff. This is one of those ingredients where a little makes people wonder what you did differently this year, while too much makes the entire dinner taste like a Yankee Candle. Chop it finely, add a little, taste, and go from there.

Now, while we’re discussing Thanksgiving controversies, I have a question:

Are yams sweet potatoes?

I know there is a technically correct answer to this question, but I’m more interested in what you call them. Growing up, were they yams? Sweet potatoes? Candied yams? And did they arrive at the table covered in brown sugar and marshmallows?

Because here is another Thanksgiving tradition I’ve never completely understood: sweet potatoes are already sweet. Why does nearly every Thanksgiving recipe seem determined to make them even sweeter? Brown sugar. Maple syrup. Marshmallows. More brown sugar. My suggestion this year? Go savory. Sweet potatoes become much more interesting when you play against their natural sweetness instead of piling more sugar on top of it. Roast them with olive oil or butter and plenty of salt. Add black pepper, garlic, smoked paprika, thyme or rosemary. A little cayenne can provide some heat. You can mash them with butter, salt and herbs just as you would a traditional potato.

That natural sweetness is still there, but now it has something to work against. Sweet, salty and savory all in the same bite—that’s a side dish worth going back for.

Of course, mashed potatoes still belong on the table. Keep those simple. Good potatoes, plenty of butter, salt and enough cream or milk to make them luxurious. Thanksgiving isn’t the day for low-fat mashed potatoes.

And if you were with us last month, you might remember our ridiculously simple butternut squash soup made from homemade chicken stock, squash and that little finishing touch of freshly grated nutmeg. Why not serve it on Thanksgiving? A small bowl of warm butternut squash soup makes a fantastic first course. You can even make it ahead of time, which is invaluable on a day when every burner, oven rack and square inch of countertop suddenly becomes prime real estate.

Thanksgiving dinner doesn’t need fifteen complicated dishes. Give me a beautifully cooked turkey, excellent stuffing, mashed potatoes, a savory sweet potato dish, a vegetable or two, good gravy and maybe that bowl of butternut squash soup to start, and I’m perfectly content.

But whatever you decide to put on your table this year, I have one final request.

Please don’t start talking about Christmas yet.

Don’t put on the Christmas music. Don’t rush to the next holiday. Don’t make Thanksgiving feel like some inconvenient Thursday standing between Halloween and December. Thanksgiving deserves its moment. There is something wonderful about a holiday whose entire purpose is to gather around a table with the people you care about, cook far too much food, eat far too much of it and be grateful for what you have.So let Thanksgiving enjoy the stage all on its own.And pass the stuffing. I’m getting seconds.