Bell's Seasoning

 Usually, on the day after Thanksgiving, I am happy to eat the salad that we traditionally bring to our feast that no one else ate along with whatever leftover soup that is in the fridge and a stray sliver of pie. I love the big mid-day meal, but no longer crave the piles of leftovers. This year, though, I am missing my mother’s hot turkey sandwiches.

 It started with the stuffing, which was the best. Finely chopped onions and celery, cooked with some pungent sausage meat, then mixed with two bags of stuffing bread croutons, already softened with water. Once everything was in the Big Bowl—we made a lot of stuffing—we would mix it by hand, one person mixing while the other sprinkled in the Bell’s Seasoning, a mixture of herbs that smelled strongly of sage. “Enough?” she would ask. We would both pause, sniff the bowl, and shake our heads. “More.”  The stuffing rested, mellowing, on the cold back porch overnight.

                In the morning, we stuffed the bird, letting the fragrant cubes spill out between the legs. More Bell’s Seasoning went over the skin and it was tucked into the oven. The stuffing and turkey baked together, flavoring one another. When the turkey was hauled out of the pan, we piled the stuffing into her best casserole dish, white with flowers, carved the bird, and made gravy with the drippings.  The entire meal smelled of sage and onions.

                The next evening, she would scoop gravy into a frying pan, add slices of turkey, and heat them up, hot. This was poured over toasted bread and barely warm stuffing that had retained all of its crunch from the day before. Some people might add cranberry sauce from the can, but I never did. We would bring our plates into the living room and watch T.V. while we ate. It was heaven.

                I know that I could make my own stuffing and turkey, my own Hot Turkey sandwiches, but a turkey is not a small endeavor and I no longer eat sausage. I’m not even sure where to find her specific brand, or the Bell’s Seasoning,  if I wanted to.  But I missed that pungent New England aroma this afternoon, as we eat our salad and cake leftovers.