I enjoy a nice stuffing. Stuffing stands proudly and reservedly on the battlefield that is the Thanksgiving dinner table. Stuffing is not as flashy as the turkey, nor in demand as the green bean casserole. Stuffing is not sexy; you're never going to see stuffing on a food porn blog or hear someone say, “Ooh baby, gimme some of dat fine stuffing.” Well, heheh, when you put it that way..
Stuffing is reliable. Hell, stuffing is the best part. I love making stuffing. You sauté some aromatics, throw in some sausage, a little tart apple, maybe some oysters, few handfuls of day-old bread, a splash of cognac, a pour of broth, and throw it in an oven for half an hour or so. You're left with a hearty & homey dish that's so effing comforting. That's it - stuffing is the warm scarf of comfort food.
What? I need to go. I just called stuffing a warm scarf. Waxing poetic about stuffing. Get out of my face.