Monumental fights often break out on Thanksgiving weekend around the south. Of course, there are the heated in-state football rivalries and battles for cheap TVs down at the Wal-Mart. But the most vicious skirmishes take place in kitchens throughout Dixie when someone dares to mess with the family’s long-standing recipe for dressing.

The decision between dressing versus stuffing usually isn’t the issue around here, since Southerners overwhelmingly favor cornbread dressing, baked in a shallow dish until slightly crispy on the top, yet moist underneath. My grandmother always made two pans; one with onions and one without — for those with young stomachs and those without. 

My first Thanksgiving spent with Hubby’s family had me looking around the kitchen for the dressing, but it was nowhere to be found. Imagine my surprise when my mother-in-law poked a spoon inside the turkey and pulled out what I thought was gray mashed potatoes.

“That’s an odd place to keep your side dish,” I thought. The stuffing was made with cubed white bread instead of cornbread and although it was tasty, I didn’t feel like I had eaten a complete Thanksgiving dinner. 

Stuffing gets its name because it’s stuffed in the bird. Dressing gets its name, I guess, because it “dresses” the side of the meat. Now, someone from Pennsylvania has told me her family made “filling” to go with their turkey dinner. I’m not sure how or where the filling was cooked, and after seeing the poor turkey with stuffing, I’m not sure I want to know.

Grandmother’s recipe for dressing was the traditional southern standard, but on the other side of the family, my aunt’s version was the one I preferred. It added a few more herbs than usual and made the kitchen smell divine.

One year, I grabbed a pencil and recipe card, poised to write down her every move while she scurried around the kitchen, only to discover she was as bad as me about using nebulous measurements like “about, “ “a bunch” or “a dash.” Nothing was exact, but it all turned out to be scrumptious anyway.

I’ve heard of a recipe that uses a Crock-Pot to cook the dressing, but who on God’s green earth wants to eat that? The Crock-Pot can’t put that crunch on the top, which would leave it mushy. For the same results, you may as well save the counter space and stuff it in the bird.

Three Thanksgivings ago, I took great care to prepare the cornbread the day before, leaving it out on the counter in the skillet, covered with a tea towel, so it would dry out just enough to soak up the broth the next day. I chopped the onions and celery, and when everything was assembled, decided at the last minute, it would look festive if I threw in some red Craisins — the little half raisin, half cranberry treats found on the dried fruit aisle at the Piggly Wiggly.

Well, you would have thought I had run off and joined the Union army with all the crying and wailing going on. Fruit in the dressing? That’s what they put in stuffing! I was accused of being a hippie. My cousin pouted until we promised to stand in line with her at the J.C. Penney’s at midnight, and someone helping with the kitchen clean-up “accidentally” dumped the rest of the dressing out.They didn’t even have the manners to offer it to the hounds.

Southerners don’t do well with change. Although we’ve slowly come to accept a turkey either fried or roasted (it’s always an acceptable option to fry anything), once we’ve invented perfection, you had better leave it alone. Around here, don’t mess with the family’s dressing recipe. It’ll be a showdown unlike any other.

Leslie Anne Harrison writes the blog Fairhope Supply Co. which can be found at: www.fairhopesupply.com.