Let Me Tell You About the Stuffing That Actually Gets Eaten

So, you know that one dish that everyone claims not to care about, but somehow it's vanished the second you go back for a real serving? That's my stuffing. Swear. I mean, every Thanksgiving it’s the same: my cousins act like it’s just a side dish, but by the time I’m done wrestling the turkey, it’s always a pan scraped clean. Actually, one year Uncle Jim tried to hide a scoop for next-day sandwiches and my sister caught him—stirred up more drama than the pumpkin pie ever did.

Anyway, I've got some real feelings about soggy stuffing (who wants bread soup??) and bland stuffings (do not talk to me about 'lightly seasoned'), so this recipe is my antidote to both. Here’s how I make it for my crew—plus a few trials and errors along the way. (If you call it dressing, that's fine. But it’ll always be stuffing to me, even if it never touches the bird.)

Why My Family Wants This Every Thanksgiving (No Joke)

I make this when my house is full and there's not enough seating for everyone—so basically, every holiday. My kids devour it because it's crunchy on top, soft in the middle, and packed with flavor (I don’t skimp on the herbs—learned that after a very bland attempt in 2016...). I also think it's secretly just the excuse we need to eat way too much bread in one go, honestly. Oh, and nobody complains about leftovers. Actually, I think it tastes better the next day, which is lucky, because I always make too much. Or too little. Haven’t found the sweet spot yet.

Here’s What You’ll Need (and What I’ve Swapped In a Pinch)

1 big loaf (about 450g or a small mountain) of rustic bread, torn or cubed—sourdough, ciabatta, baguette, whatever’s not too soft. I’ve even used cornbread when I was feeling wild. (My grandma always insisted on Pepperidge Farm, but I'm not that brand loyal.)
1-2 cups chopped yellow onion—red onion works too, but makes it pinkish (not a fan)
1–1.5 cups chopped celery (I admit I skip this sometimes, but it does make it taste...stuffing-y)
3–4 cloves garlic, minced (If you hate peeling garlic like me, the jarred stuff works in a pinch. Don’t let anyone judge you.)
¾ cup unsalted butter, more if you’re feeling generous—one year I tried all olive oil and, well, not recommended
¼ cup fresh parsley, chopped (dried works if it must)
1–2 teaspoons each fresh sage, thyme, rosemary—yes, dry is ok, just halve the amount
Salt and black pepper (I just keep shaking until it smells right)
2–2½ cups chicken or veggie stock—homemade if I'm trying to impress, boxed if I'm in a rush
2 eggs, beaten (seriously, don’t skip these, they help it hold together)
Optional: handful dried cranberries, cooked sausage, toasted nuts, or chopped apples if you want to go rogue

How I Make It (Minus the Panic)

Dry out your bread. Let the cubed bread sit out overnight—spread on a tray, not covered—or dry it in the oven at about 250°F (120°C) for 30–40 mins. (Truth be told, sometimes I forget and just crank the oven to get it crispy. Just don’t burn it.)
Melt the butter in a big skillet or the biggest pan you trust (mine barely fits on the stove). Sauté onions and celery over medium heat until they’re softened and smelling like Thanksgiving, 8–10 mins. Throw in garlic for the last minute—garlic burns fast!
Toss in all the herbs, salt, and pepper. Take a moment to smell it. (This is where I usually sneak a taste even though, yes, it’s all raw veg and butter so maybe don’t repeat that.)
Tip the bread into a big ol’ mixing bowl. Scrape the buttery veggies and herbs on top. Give it a very good stir—use your hands if you must (I do, after washing them, mostly).
Pour in about 2 cups of the stock, add the beaten eggs, and stir gently. If it looks dry, add more stock until it feels squishy but not soupy. Don’t stress if it looks odd—always does, promise. On second thought, I'd start with less liquid if the bread seems super soft.
Taste a cube, because quality control.
Butter a big (9x13 inch or something similar) baking dish and heap it all in. Press it in a little—don’t pack it tight though, you want it fluffy, not brick-like.
Bake uncovered at 350°F (175°C) for about 40–50 mins, or until golden and the edges are crisp. If you like it moister, cover with foil for half the time.
Let it cool just a bit. Actually, waiting is nearly impossible if you’re hungry. Dig in.

Stuff I’ve Learned (Usually the Hard Way)

Once, I tried skipping eggs—to make it vegan—but ended up with crumbly stuffing that fell apart like bad plans. Oops.
Fresh herbs do make a difference, but in winter I mostly use dried. It’s perfectly fine.
On occasion I add sausage, but my youngest protested because “it’s weird.” Fair enough.
If it’s too salty, an extra handful of bread sorts it out (as long as you noticed before baking, haha).
If you’re out of celery, just double the onion. Nobody will notice—promise.

Variations I’ve Tried (and One That Bombed)

I once added a chopped apple and loved the little burst of tartness, but the year my cousin tossed in olives... let’s just say, not every wild card is a winner (sorry, Rick). Sometimes I swap veggie broth to make it vegetarian, or toast pecans and sprinkle on top for crunch. Tried mushrooms once, and it was good, but a bit too damp for my taste.

Equipment: Don’t Worry If You Haven’t Got It All

You’ll need a sturdy skillet, a massive mixing bowl, and a baking dish around 9x13 inches. No fancy stuff—I’ve used a roasting pan, and once a casserole dish for a double recipe (that got messy). If your mixing bowl is too small, just use a clean pot. Or heck, the sink (kidding, mostly).

How to Store Your Stuffing (But It Won’t Last Long)

Just pop leftovers into an airtight container in the fridge; should keep 3–4 days, reheats fine in the microwave. That being said, in my house it never sticks around longer than a day—someone always nabs the corner pieces way before breakfast. I read somewhere (Serious Eats has a good take on this) you can freeze stuffing, but honestly, it never gets that far here.

How We Serve It (And What Goes With)

I like to pile stuffing high alongside turkey and drown it in gravy, but my sister just eats it straight, no toppings. Our tradition is actually a stuffing sandwich the next morning—leftovers squished between two slices of white bread with cranberry and a little bit of mayo. Ridiculous but good. (If you've never tried the leftover sandwich thing, highly recommend.)

Lessons I’ve Learned (Usually the Hard Way): Pro Tips

Don’t rush drying the bread. One year I figured "eh, fresh is fine," and ended up with a solid pudding. Not the good British kind.
Add the liquid slowly, and mix gently. I once poured in all the broth at once and it was basically mush. You can always add, but can’t subtract. (Wouldn’t life be easier if that rule applied everywhere?)
If one side is browning too fast, just rotate the pan, or tent with foil. No need to panic.

Wait, What If…? (FAQs from Actual Dinnertable Conversations)

Is it stuffing if you don’t stuff it? Well, technically, yes—even if it's baked in a dish, it's still stuffing in my book. Actually, sometimes it tastes better outside the turkey—less soggy!
Can I make it ahead? Sure thing. Prep everything and keep it in the fridge overnight, but don’t bake till you’re ready or it’ll get tough. You can even bake it, then cover and re-warm next day—sometimes I think the flavors meld better this way.
Gluten-free? Yep, use a sturdy GF bread, cube it up and dry as usual. One friend likes Udi’s for this but, on second thought, just grab whatever’s most like rustic bread.
Veggie? Just swap in veggie broth, skip the sausage (if you use it), and it’s all good.
Does it have to have celery? Folks, I’d say no; I skip it about half the time when it’s hiding behind the milk in my fridge and nobody can tell.

And that’s about it. If you need a bit more visual help, YouTube is full of helpful walkthroughs, though none of them confess to scarfing stuffing at midnight in their pajamas. Hope this helps—let me know how your version turns out, and if you don’t find a few crunchy bits at the bottom, you haven’t baked it long enough. (Oh, and for what it’s worth, the dog doesn't seem to care about the herbs, but the cat does. Go figure.)

Best Thanksgiving Stuffing Recipe