I understand that my stuffing is not the usual stuffing,
not your typical, simple, Midwest farmhouse fare.
In fact, it is not for the regional purist or the culinary
faint of heart, artful as it is, a collage, a food mosaic,
made with Granny Smith apples and dried cranberries,
savory bacon and andouille sausage, crunchy toasted
walnuts and hazelnuts, wild rice and cornbread and
the trinity for a base, its a graceless embrace of your
tastebuds. If it had arms and legs it would parade about
and slap you on the face. My stuffing is a celebration
as much as it's misbehaved. It's an unrefined mash-up
of all the stuff I like, an embarrassment of riches that
is meant to stand alone, not in service to any turkeys.
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