Welcome to Never Fail, a weekly column where we wax poetic about the recipes that never, ever let us down.
There are objectively good things in this world, like the first warm day of spring or glancing up from the restaurant table to see the server bringing your food. Then there are subjectively good things, based on your personal preferences. (Mine just so happen to be the episode of Jersey Shore where they go on vacation to Riccione, Italy and biting into a still-warm slice from Scarr’s, if you wanted some examples). A factually good thing versus something you as an individual can’t get enough of. And when it comes to objectively good versus subjectively good in the realm of Thanksgiving, this stuffing falls into the objectively good category. (If you don’t believe me, just ask the legion of other BA staffers who have been making this stuffing year after year.)
First, let’s start with the fact that it gets cooked outside of the bird. When you cook stuffing in the bird, it’ll never get crispy. And while it’s true that stuffing is all about that wonderful custardy, soggy texture, I’d like to argue that the soggy is nothing without the crunchy—a bite of both is, objectively-speaking, perfection. Because you bake this one uncovered for the last 40 minutes, the top layer of craggly pieces of torn bread crisp while the middle of the stuffing remains custardy.
Speaking of that custardy inside, it happens because of eggs and lots of broth. I’m not going to sit here on my broth-covered throne (it’s damp up here!) and tell you I’ve only made this stuffing with homemade stock. I’ve used the box stuff—and it works! But if you are planning ahead, make some chicken broth this weekend and store it in your freezer until it’s stuffing time.
And as for the other stuff? It’s onion and celery cooked in butter until lightly browned, then mixed with sage, parsley, rosemary, and thyme—some objectively Thanksgiving-y herbs. So essentially, a lot of extremely simple ingredients get thrown together to make the best stuffing, and for that you can’t be anything but objectively happy to scoop even more onto your almost-too-full Thanksgiving plate.