Butthole Stuffing

So I did what everyone would do in my situation. I Googled it. On my work laptop. Big mistake. Don’t try it. I asked my roommate who had just started culinary school and was rapidly becoming the delicacy expert of the Lower Haight. No idea. Now I was on a mission to get to the bottom of this. No pun intended.

After a month of trying to block it out and getting strange looks when I asked the question, I knew what I had to do if I was to ever get the answer to this haunting question. I picked up the phone and called my Grandma. At the nursing home. No answer. I called back. Again, no answer. It became an obsession. I started stalking Pearle like a cougar sneaking up on quail. I called at all hours of the day and night. She’s highly mobile and apparently never in her room. So I decided to call my Mom after thinking three or four times about how I would even position this.

I explained the story to her and she immediately cackled like a hen. The kind of laugh I always love to hear from her. I could just see her doubled over with her face turning red. She repeated the question to me. “Butthole stuffing?” An odd thing to hear coming from her that in turn made me chuckle. Then she said it again. “Are you sure she said butthole stuffing? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Great. The quest continues. Just then my Dad walked in. Maybe he would have the answer. “Wavel, have you ever heard of butthole stuffing?” she asked. Without missing a beat, he replied, “Nope but it doesn’t sound like anything I’d want anything to do with.” Classic.

But I had to know the answer. My Mom was now my best source since she reminded me that my Grandma wouldn’t know the answer anyway since she remembers things that happened fifty years ago down to the last finite detail but she forgets what she has for breakfast. So we examined what this nasty southern delicacy could possibly be. After discussing a few options, laughing all the way, we settled on the logical answer. IT MUST be the stuffing placed inside the turkey. But what a gross thing to call it. At my family get together we never do that. Stuffing is always called dressing and served in a separate dish. It is never inside the bird. No wonder I had such a hard time figuring it out. In either case, from now on I will never look at Christmas dinner the same way and will always remember butthole stuffing.