“Turkeys”
GRANDMA MOSES
THANKSGIVING STUFFING
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Classic Bread Stuffing for Thanksgiving
Preheat oven to 250°. Butter a 13x9x2-inch baking dish and set aside. Scatter bread in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet. Bake, stirring occasionally, until dried out, about 1 hour. Let cool; transfer to a very large bowl.
Meanwhile, melt 3/4 cup butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat; add onions and celery. Stir often until just beginning to brown, about 10 minutes. Add to bowl with bread; stir in herbs, salt, and pepper. Drizzle in 1 1/4 cups broth and toss gently. Let cool.
Preheat oven to 350°. Whisk 1 1/4 cups broth and eggs in a small bowl. Add to bread mixture; fold gently until thoroughly combined. Transfer to prepared dish, cover with foil, and bake until an instant-read thermometer inserted into the center of dressing registers 160°, about 40 minutes.
THE writer Maya Angelou has lived a long life and cooked a lot of turkeys, and one thing she doesn’t mince is words.
Stuffing, she says, is really the point of the meal, isn’t it?
For Thanksgiving cooks, a perfectly bronzed turkey is a challenge, and mashed sweet potatoes are a comfort, but stuffing is a labor of love.
Whether called stuffing or dressing, made with old crusts of corn bread or French-style pain au levain, moistened with Armagnac or applesauce, this unglamorous, gloriously flavored mixture is the true taste of Thanksgiving for many Americans. A passionate attachment to one’s own family recipe, combined with a healthy suspicion of other stuffings, has become part of the holiday ritual.
“I make vats and vats of it, so there will be plenty for seconds and thirds and leftovers,” said Susan Ott, an Iowa native who will celebrate Thanksgiving this year in Cornwall, Conn. “And I hate to go to anyone else’s house for Thanksgiving, because I fear the stuffing will be weird.”
Greg Danford of Burlington, Vt., recalled that “the first time I made oyster stuffing our family matriarch said that she didn’t like food with surprises, asked me not to make it again and told me to stick to carving the turkey.”
In stuffing, as in politics, one American’s tradition is another’s abomination. Ingredients like oysters, chestnuts, giblets and raisins have long been subjects of fierce debate within families. But dozens of recent interviews with American cooks of all stripes revealed a surprising consensus: although the nation may find itself politically uneasy this Thanksgiving, most people now seem to agree that bread stuffing — perhaps made with corn bread, probably with onion, possibly a little celery, sage and sausage — has become the beloved national standard.
There remain, of course, some regional and ethnic variations in stuffing (dressing in the South). Maureen Stein, who grew up in an Irish-French family in the Canadian province of New Brunswick before moving to Queens in 1958, adds boiled potatoes and sarriette, or summer savory, to her recipe. Sheila Clark of Williamsbridge in the Bronx follows the same recipe that her great-grandmother did in Yamacraw Village outside Savannah, Ga., using ground beef, red peppers, onions, apples and raisins. Some Latino families and global-leaning cooks like Orin Herskovitz of Brooklyn use spicy sausages like chorizo or merguez instead of plain pork sausage.
Southern cooks, including Ms. Angelou, are still more likely to use corn bread. Lois Deane of Fayetteville, Ark., who is 91, has followed the same thrifty habit for 70-odd years.
“All year long I put the ends of the corn bread in a plastic sack and keep it in the freezer,” she said. “Then at Thanksgiving I mix in some hoecake biscuits and use that for the stuffing.”
Ms. Angelou, an Arkansan too, recommends precisely the same ratio of corn bread to white bread as Ms. Deane — three to one — to ensure a light mixture. “I think a heavy stuffing makes the turkey feel depressed,” she said. Ms. Angelou, whose cookbook, “Hallelujah! The Welcome Table: A Lifetime of Memories With Recipes,” has recently been published by Random House, has celebrated Thanksgiving in such far-flung spots as Ghana, Italy and Egypt, but she said she has always managed to make corn bread dressing, even if a turkey to stuff it into has sometimes been unobtainable. (Her stuffing, like the others mentioned here, can be cooked inside or outside the turkey.)
Some Americans, especially New Englanders, add oysters to their stuffing, obstinately following an 18th-century British fashion. Many admitted that they had made it only once, and were then subjected to ridicule and disappointment. But those who love it defend it fiercely. Christina Liao, who lives in Los Angeles, makes a luxurious dressing, almost a bread pudding, with corn bread, heavy cream, eggs, celery, onion and a pint of oysters. “I feel strongly that they add richness and flavor,” she said. “My family is Chinese, so we love seafood.”
When I tried her recipe on my own family, the response was unanimous: fantastic, except for the oysters. But I am mindful that our own family recipe, made with great ceremony every year by my uncle Julian M. Cohen, would be greeted with horror in many households, as it includes porcini mushrooms, Cognac, raisins and fresh rosemary.
Most cooks interviewed said they are happiest and get the fewest complaints from family and friends around the table when the stuffing they make is close to the classic bread stuffing.
And for new Americans, learning to love this stuffing seems to be part of the process of assimilation. Sasha Armandpour, who grew up in an Iranian family in Laguna Niguel, Calif., said: “The first year I hosted Thanksgiving, I thought it should reflect our heritage, so I stuffed the turkey with saffron rice, apricots and almonds. Everyone hated it. They said Thanksgiving is an American holiday, not an Iranian one.”
Carleen Borsella of Park Slope, Brooklyn, whose Italian-American grandmother used to stuff the turkey with a combination of giblets, ricotta and raisins, said she now prefers the bread stuffing from “The Joy of Cooking,” having suffered through a Stove Top period of family history.
American couples often have to reconcile competing stuffings as part of the ritual of bonding for the holidays. One Minneapolis woman, who spoke on condition of anonymity to avoid family discord, said she and her husband were so attached to their mothers’ stuffing recipes that they had to alternate years at each table. “I hate my mother-in-law’s stuffing — she uses chestnuts — and when I have to go to her house, I always stop off at my mother’s on the way home,” she said. “She leaves a container of stuffing in the refrigerator for me, and I eat it in the car.”
Brooke Williams of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, whose family stuffing recipe called for pounds of pork sausage, was stumped the first time she had to feed her new husband’s relatives, who keep kosher. “I had no idea how to make stuffing without sausage or ham in it,” she said. “I had never heard of such a thing.”
Out on the stuffing fringes is a tiny minority of Americans who have tried to make Thompson’s Turkey, which calls for more than two dozen ingredients in the stuffing alone, including water chestnuts, crushed pineapple, poppy seeds, hot mustard and mace. Devised by Morton Thompson, the author of the 1954 novel “Not as a Stranger” (filmed as a medical melodrama starring Olivia de Havilland, Robert Mitchum and Frank Sinatra), the recipe runs to three single-spaced typed pages, with the stuffing ingredients helpfully divided into Bowl A, Bowl B and Bowl C.
“I got the recipe from my accountant, and I’ve made it every Thanksgiving for 25 years,” said Elizabeth Lewin of Westport, Conn. “You just can’t imagine what it’s like.”
The BADASS COOKBOOK
SECRET RECIPES
6 1/2 ounces butter (13 tablespoons) 6 cups crumbled corn bread 6 cups torn crusty white bread, such as a baguette 2 cups chopped onion 2 cups chopped celery 1/2 to 1 teaspoon dried sage (optional) 2 teaspoons salt Black pepper 6 eggs, beaten 1 1/2 cups heavy cream 2 cups turkey or chicken broth 2 dozen shucked small oysters, with their liquid (optional).
1. Heat oven to 400 degrees, and butter a 9-by-13-inch baking dish. Melt remaining butter. In a large bowl, combine corn bread, white bread, onion, celery, sage, salt and pepper to taste. Toss until well mixed. Add melted butter, eggs, cream and 1 1/2 cups broth. Toss in oysters, if using. Mix lightly but well; mixture should be very moist. 2. Turn mixture into prepared dish. If mixture seems dry around edges, drizzle on remaining broth. Bake 45 minutes to 1 hour, until firm and browned on top. Yield: 12 servings.
2 tablespoons butter
Salt 4 medium-size russet potatoes, peeled
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 medium onions, chopped 2 large stalks celery, chopped 1 pound breakfast pork sausage meat, crumbled 2 cups cubes made from crusty white bread, such as a baguette, toasted
1 cup low-sodium or homemade chicken broth
Pepper 1 to 2 teaspoons dried summer savory.
1. Heat oven to 375 degrees, and butter a 9-by-13-inch baking dish. 2. Boil potatoes in salted water until just cooked through but still firm in center. When cool, cut into 1-inch dice. Set aside. 3. Melt remaining butter and oil together in large skillet over medium heat. Add onions and celery, and cook, stirring, until softened. Reduce heat if necessary to prevent browning. 4. Raise heat to medium-high, add sausage and cook, stirring, using a wooden spoon to break up clumps. When sausage has browned slightly add potatoes, and continue cooking until they are incorporated and slightly browned. Add bread cubes, and mix. 5. Add about half the broth, and mix. If needed, add more to soften bread cubes and to bind the stuffing together. Add salt and pepper to taste, and sprinkle with 1 teaspoon summer savory. Taste, and add more savory if desired. 6. Turn into buttered dish. If mixture seems dry, drizzle on remaining stock. Bake 30 to 40 minutes, until firm and crusty. (The stuffing is even better if mixed in advance, kept refrigerated and baked just before serving.) Yield: 10 to 12 servings.
CORN BREAD Time: 25 minutes
1 tablespoon plus 1/4 cup peanut or corn oil 1 cup coarse yellow cornmeal 1/2 cup all-purpose flour 2 tablespoons sugar 1 teaspoon baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon salt 2 eggs 1 cup buttermilk.
1. Heat oven to 425 degrees. Use 1 tablespoon oil to grease 9-inch square or round pan.
2. Combine dry ingredients in one bowl, and whisk wet ingredients in another. Combine, and stir together until batter is just moistened but not smooth. Spread into pan, and bake 15 to 20 minutes, until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool on rack. Yield: 8 to 10 servings.
Big Lebowski – Reservoir Dogs – Pulp Fiction Mash-Up
The Dude’s PUMPKIN PIE CHEESECAKE
Copied From The CHEESECAKE FACTORY
DUDE’S CHEESCAKE FACTORY PUMPKIN PIE CHEESECAKE
RECIPE :
For the Graham Cracker Crust
30 Graham Crackers
5 Tablespoons Butter, Melted
2 Tablespoons White Sugar
16 Ounces Cream Cheese, Softened
½ Cup White Sugar
½ Cup Brown Sugar, Packed
(1) 15 Ounce Can Pumpkin Puree
2 Teaspoons Vanilla Extract
1 Tablespoon Pumpkin Pie Spice
16 Ounces Heavy Whipping Cream
PREPARATION :
The DUDE’S BIG LEBOWSKI COOKBOOK
GOT ANY KAHLUA ?
LOTS of GREAT RECIPES FROM THE DUDE
COWBOY CHILI
HOW to COOK The PERFECT STEAK
RECIPES for THANKSGIVING
And 365 Days a Year
TACOS / BURITOS
and More …
From The DUDE
The ITALIAN-AMERICAN THANKSGIVING
Yes we have TURKEY with All The TRIMMINGS
But we First Start with ANTIPSTO
Maybe ANPASTO MISTI
Like This One with assorted Salami Olive, Peppers, and Cheese
Then, Being ITALIAN, It’s on to a PASTA COURSE
Most Likely, a Special Treet for THANKSGIVING
Or other Baked MACCHERONI

The, it’s on to The TURKEY
With all its TRIMMINGS
Just like other AMERICANS
THEN ?

PUMPKIN PIE
“Gotta Have Pumpkin Pie” !!!

CANNOLI
ITALIAN PASTRIES and COOKIES
And ESPRESSO
An ESPRESSO
Made From Nonna’s MACCHINETTA
NAPOLETAN ESPRESSO POT
SUNDAY SAUCE
Learn How to Make ESPRESSO at Home
LASAGNA Recipe
And an ITALIAN-AMERICA
THANKSGIVING iN NEW YORK
ALL in SUNDAY SAUCE
and More …
by DANIEL BELINO-ZWICKE
STAY TUNED, More to Come !!!
Positano
Before it served as the setting to for Romantic Comedies, like the 1994 film Only You and 2003’s Under the Tuscan Sun, or was home to singer-songwriter Shawn Phillips in the ’70s, or the place where The Rolling Stones’ Mick Jagger and Keith Richards wrote “Midnight Rambler,” or it became the must-visit destination frequented by some of today’s most paparazzi-stalked celebrities like; Beyonce and Jay-Z, George and Amal Clooney, and Julia Roberts, Positano was, simply, the little cliffside fishing village embedded into the hills of Campania, Italy.
Situated on the Amalfi Coast, the “vertical town” enjoys everything a vacationer could ever hope for: immediate access to the glittering waters of the Salerno Gulf, boutique- and cafe-lined streets, and Beaches—so many beaches. And when Jayne Mansfield and her family stopped by the idyllic village in the ’60s, she took full advantage of the latter in a playful two-piece. For your…
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The BELMONT TAVERN
Home of CHICKEN SAVOY
Nearly every luminary with a photo on the Belmont Tavern’s walls—”98 percent,” resident raconteur Jimmy Cuomo will tell you—has actually eaten at the Belmont Tavern.
Step in off Belleville, New Jersey’s busy Bloomfield Avenue, do a spin, and you’ll meet them all, loosely grouped on the wood-paneled walls in plain black frames. Legendary songstress Connie Francis, a local girl. Jocks, like former Giants running back Tiki Barber and Knicks legend Ernie Grunfeld. Hollywood wise guys like Joe Piscopo and Frank Vincent. Clint Eastwood, who directed the film adaptation of the Jersey Boys jukebox musical set in the neighborhood, is a fan; he was in for a meal in 2013, popping hot peppers like they were jelly beans. Frankie Valli, the OG Jersey Boy, is one, too.
There are two begrudging exceptions to Cuomo’s 98 percent: Joe Torre, since the skipper’s son eats there, and Pope John Paul II. Cuomo has actually lobbied to revoke His Holiness’ dinner dispensation (“The Pope can come down!”), but his waitresses won’t let him.
The Belmont, which has been in Cuomo’s family for decades, has long had a knack for luring in a certain class of notable, especially those with Jersey roots. Spend enough time at the bar, nursing a longneck and staring at the Deer Hunter American flag obscuring the marbled mirror backsplash, and you’ll hear Cuomo, holding court in his Belmont polo, slip into stories, yarns thick with surnames like Pesci, Roselli, and Gandolfini.

Stretch with The “YANKEE CLIPPER”
JOLTIN JOE DiMAGGIO
But celebrity customers are just one part of the Belmont’s repute. A far greater part is evidenced by a sign visible from the sidewalk: Stretch’s Chicken Savoy. There are plenty of dishes available on the Italian-American menu, but this is the one people come for, from near and far. It’s a simple dish: Cut-up chicken rubbed down with a fat handful of garlic, hard cheese, and herbs, then roasted in a screaming-hot oven and splashed with vinegar, which sends aromas of schmaltz and spice right up to your nose.
It’s now a dish found all over—but only in—northern New Jersey, and as with most hyper-regional foods, its devotees are as idiosyncratic as its birthplace.
The Belmont Tavern is actually two distinct businesses, working together on the strength of what locals whimsically refer to as a “Belleville contract”—a handshake. Cuomo’s family took over the tavern portion of the operation, separate from the dining room, in 1965. Two years later, his father and uncle brought in Charles “Stretch” Verdicchio, a butcher-turned-chef with a nice touch on the line, a head of hair like Dean Martin and a knack for making friends.
Two of the largest photos on display at the Belmont feature Stretch. In one, he’s proudly hoisting up a lobster with claws the size of Pomeranians. The other is him mugging for the camera, a bit of balled-up linen clasped in his hands, next to none other than Joe DiMaggio. (“Stretch—never did find out what was under the napkin,” reads a scribble from the Yankee Clipper.)
Despite his seemingly high profile, nailing down solid information on Stretch is about as easy as nailing down solid information on D.B. Cooper. Even people who knew him, like Cuomo, or his son-in-law Norb Wroblewski, speak about Stretch in vague terms. He learned the trade from his dad and cooked out around the Hoover Dam as part of a New Deal job placement—they think. Back when the Belmont was big on live music, he’d pop out of the kitchen and sing a tune or two with the performers, they say. Neither seems exactly sure of where his nickname came from. (Best we could muster: He was lanky.)
And yet Stretch, who passed away in 1989, is still a big part of the Belmont’s personality, with enough name recognition to tout his best-known dish in the window out front. Over the years, it’s helped the restaurant back away from its unflattering reputation as a gruff goodfellas hangout and refocus its marketing. “Our perception now is not that it’s a wise guy joint,” says Wroblewski, not the only Belmont associate to swiftly shift subjects when Sopranos-style chatter arises. “It’s that it’s a good place to eat.”
Like at many places up here, the staff still seems to maintain a bit of a wink-and-nod relationship with the mob mentality.
“It’s not an unusual dish,” says Wroblewski, a former accountant and Army Reserve pilot married to Annette. “It’s not difficult to make. We just don’t tell anyone how we do it.”
CHICKEN SAVOY
1 Chicken (about 3 lbs.) cut in 8 pieces
Kosher salt and pepepr
4 cloves garlic – minced
1 tbsp dried oregano
1 tsp dried thyme
1/3 cup grated romano cheese
3 tbsp olive oil
1 cup red wine vinegar

da BOYS
Hangin at The BELMONT TAVERN
BELLVILLE New Jersey
In recent years, Wroblewski, along with his Ecuadorian-born chef Leo Lukar, has overseen the kitchen at the Belmont—”a little Polish kid that’s cooking Italian,” as he puts it. This has involved plenty of Chicken Savoy preparation. And he’s right that it’s simple, at least from an observer’s standpoint. Pieces of bone-in dark meat chicken relax in rectangular pans, dusted in an unassuming blend of cheese, herbs, and spices. The bird slides into a hot oven, where the skin roasts to a swoon-inducing crisp. It bakes a little longer than you’d think.
At some point after the pans are pulled, they get doused down with a generous squeeze of red wine vinegar, which sizzles and caramelizes and clings to the meat like a second skin. Fans will tell you this is the key ingredient. “It’s the vinegar that just romances you,” says Ron Silver, a Chicken Savoy enthusiast who visits the Belmont (and its many competitors) specifically for the dish.
If there are other steps to the recipe, the Belmont isn’t tipping its hand. The bewitching result: a juicy, garlicky, giddy, tangy paesano adobo that doesn’t need any condiments or accompaniments to outshine everything else splayed out across the red-and-white checkered tablecloths. It’s easily the most-ordered plate at the Belmont, so much so that Wroblewski begins baking orders well before dinner customers even begin showing up. He knows it’s going to go, and it always does.
Savoy, which has been on the menu since Stretch’s first days at the Belmont, has cultivated some serious local notoriety over the decades—partly because it’s good, partly because it’s popular, and partly because it seems simple enough for anyone to snag and stick on their menu. True success isn’t that easy, but that hasn’t stopped people from trying.
GREAT ITALIAN RECIPES
SUNDAY SAUCE
Can’t wait for SNL this weekend. #KanyeRant pic.twitter.com/89OWtXVVFr— The Weasel’s Den (@TheWeaselsDen) October 11, 2018