If you missed this week’s Substack Live with my new friend Nicki Sizemore of Mind, Body, Spirit, FOOD, the video above is worth a watch. We covered nearly every Thanksgiving question imaginable—from brining and carving to appetizers, crispy turkey skin, freezing green beans, and our favorite sides. Nicki walked everyone through her foolproof gluten-free pie crust, and I demoed the holiday stuffing sausage I’ve made for years. (The full recipe for the sausage is below for paid subscribers).
If you’re a free subscriber and want the recipe, here’s a holiday treat:
Simply like this post, and I’ll send the recipe to you for free!—my way of saying thanks for being here.
I’ll admit, I was a bit nervous about our live conversation; new tech, spotty Internet, on-camera vanity—do I really look like that? But once we went live, it felt natural. Two cooks. Two coasts. One shared belief: food connects us to memory, meaning, and each other. It reminded me why I cook at all—why gather together, why keep showing up for one another in a world that can feel sharp and chaotic.
That feeling, more than anything, inspired this week’s piece. I hope you enjoy it….
Farce or Faith: A Thanksgiving Story
It feels like the country isn’t quite ready for Thanksgiving this year. Less than two weeks out and the news cycle is nasty, like one long political farce. Some days it’s hard to remember what we should be thankful for? I mean, who has enough left in the tank to give to those who don’t?
Food has a funny way of mirroring our moods, which made me think about another kind of farce—the culinary one. It’s the word used in French cooking for loose sausage or forcemeat, and comes from the verb farcir, “to stuff.” I couldn’t help but think of all the things I’m trying to cram into the last few days before the long Holiday weekend.
But here’s the thing about farce: the real beauty is that it is used to make linked sausages, pâtés, terrines—foods that turn humble scraps into something remarkable and delicious.
And isn’t that the quiet magic of Thanksgiving? We gather up the odds and ends of a chaotic year—the scraps, the sweetness, the hard edges—and somehow transform them into something nourishing for body and soul. Farce does that in the kitchen; holiday tradition does that at the table.
Stuffing: The Soul of Thanksgiving
Nicki and I agree: stuffing is the unsung hero of the Thanksgiving table. Sure, I said on the Substack Live that my favorite side was Brussels Sprouts. I couldn’t agree with her on camera about everything!
But the dirty little secret is that, in my fridge, leftover stuffing disappears way faster than those green little cabbages do.
Where Nicki’s version of stuffing leans sweet and savory with a cornbread base (check out her website for the recipe), mine starts with lots of olive oil, some chunky celery and onions, a few foraged mushrooms (black trumpet if I’m lucky) and Herbes de Provence. Then I add the crisp Granny Smiths, homemade bone broth, a drizzle of schmaltz or butter, and day-old bread—preferably sourdough—that can drink it all in. Garnished with fresh parsley, and baked until the top turns golden and craggy, if I had my way, I’d happily skip every other dish on the table.
And yes, the secret ingredient in my stuffing is (surprise!) the sausage, a recipe born from my meat-cutting days at Electric City Butcher. We used to sell it as an “add-on” to the hundreds of Thanksgiving orders we received each year. Guests gladly bought pounds of the stuff. But here’s the truth: you can make this simple farce at home in minutes. Really.
If “homemade sausage” sounds intimidating, it shouldn’t. You don’t need casings, grinders, or a cleaver tattoo. You just need good pork, holiday spices, and a mixing bowl, a standing mixer is better. In five minutes, you can make a sausage fresher, brighter, and far more honest than anything in a shrink-wrapped tube.
My version leans into the season—sage, fennel, thyme, garlic, ginger, nutmeg, black pepper—the kind of sausage that tastes the way the holidays smell. Its name is a misnomer– well marketing really. It’s not only good for stuffing. Make a little extra of this farce and fold it into soups, scrambles, and day-after-Thanksgiving sandwiches (preferably slathered with gravy instead of mayo).
Why We Cook
What I love most about Substack is meeting people like Nicki. Her work reflects a real philosophy of presence—the idea that cooking is a form of mindfulness, not just meal prep. I’ve always believed that too. For me, the kitchen is where the world slows down just enough to notice the good stuff: the smell of spices blooming in hot fat, the heartbeat rhythm of a knife against the cutting board, a curious gaze from my kids on holiday break admiring my craft.
Cooking—especially for the holidays—is an act of faith, an offering of service, a small rebellion against cynicism. Cooking is a way to shut out the sadness, the hurt, the injustice of a world that can be ugly and mean at times. And it’s an opportunity to welcome in the sweet and savory nourishment that only mindful eating can provide. It’s proof that even when the edges feel cracked, we can still gather in the gooey center to share in the warmth and wholesomeness that builds something beautiful from a handful of ingredients grown in the sacred soil of this fragile blue-and-green marble spinning through space.
The holidays have a way of making me forget the challenges—at least for a few weeks. They instill hope for the future. They remind me of ancient traditions anchored in gratitude that go much further back than Manifest Destiny. And most of all, the holidays bring together all the people who I am blessed to call friends and family.
I can’t wait to share the bounty of this year, good and bad, with them at my table.
May your Thanksgiving be savory where it should, tender where it matters, just a little sweet, and filled with whatever—and whoever—you choose to stuff into it this season.
(scroll down for the recipe)
All paid subscribers get my “secret” sausage recipe below, and more than a dozen recipes each year. For the rest of you, Christmas has come early. If you like today’s post, I’ll send you the sausage recipe for free!
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RECIPE: HOLIDAY STUFFING SAUSAGE
The secret to great sausage isn’t equipment—it’s technique. Weigh everything. Mix gently. Taste before you commit. And—for the love of gravy—use enough salt. Below is the full recipe, along with a few tips to help you get the most flavorful, holiday-perfect stuffing sausage possible.
