Name: Southern Cornbread Dressing
Prep time: 30 min
Cook time: 45 min
Total time: 1 h 15 min
Yield: 8 servings
Cuisine: Southern
Ingredients: 6 cups crumbled cornbread; 2 cups day-old white bread, cubed; 1 medium onion, finely chopped; 2 celery stalks, finely chopped; 1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted; 2 1/2 cups chicken broth; 2 large eggs, beaten; 1 teaspoon dried sage; 1 teaspoon poultry seasoning; Salt and black pepper to taste

If you ever walked into my kitchen on Thanksgiving morning, you’d probably see me elbow-deep in a giant bowl of cornbread bits, chatting (okay, sometimes bickering) with family as I try not to let anyone sneak tastes before it’s in the oven. Southern Cornbread Dressing is just one of those dishes for me–I grew up watching my mawmaw whip this up without measuring a single thing. Honestly, one time she did use a measuring cup, but only to scoop up bird seed. So, let’s get into it–but first, wanna hear about the year we forgot the eggs? It was…well, let’s just say we never made that mistake twice.

Why you’ll fall for this recipe (besides the carbs)

I make this for just about every holiday gathering—my family swears I hide away half the pan, but I just love the crispy edges too much to share! My brother once tried to swap boxed stuffing out for this, and let’s just say, nobody’s ever let him live that down (sorry, Ty). It’s really cozy—even if you skip the turkey, I still think you need the dressing. And if it comes out a little too moist, don’t sweat it. That happened to me last year and everyone still wiped the dish clean, so it’s kind of foolproof? (On the third try!)

What goes in my Southern Cornbread Dressing (and what doesn’t have to)

Cornbread (Day-old homemade is best, but to be honest, I’ve used Jiffy in a pinch and nobody’s gotten mad yet)
Stale white bread (about 2 cups torn up or just whatever’s left from last week’s loaf—anything’s fair game except cinnamon raisin, yikes)
Onion, chopped (I sometimes use shallots when that’s what I’ve got; my grandmother says yellow onions only, but she’s a little strict)
Celery (About 3 stalks; important for crunch, unless your family hates celery, then just do fewer)
Chicken broth (4 cups, or leftover turkey broth, or honestly I’ve even used veggie bouillon dissolved in hot water)
Eggs (3 large, or you can get away with just 2 if you’re a bit short, it’ll just be softer)
Butter (6 tbsp; salted, unsalted, or margarine, whatever you’ve got)
Poultry seasoning (1 tbsp; my secret is using sage-heavy blends, but if I run out, I’ll just toss in some dried thyme, rosemary, and extra black pepper)
Optional: Cooked, shredded chicken or turkey (about 1½ cups—sometimes I skip this when we’re just doing dressing as the veggie side)
Salt and pepper (to taste—look, I just start tasting at the bowl stage and go from there)

How I usually pull this off (with plenty of tasting)

Preheat your oven to about 350°F (or 175°C, if you’re fancy).
Get a big bowl. Crumble up your day-old cornbread and toss in the torn white bread. I actually mix with my hands—it just feels better that way.
In a skillet on the stove, melt half your butter. Throw in onions and celery. Let that cook til it’s soft, about 5-8 minutes. This is the part that makes your house smell like Thanksgiving. Sometimes I add a garlic clove if nobody’s looking.
Pour the onion celery mix all over your bread bowl. Here’s where I sneak a taste or two—why not?
Whisk eggs with the broth and poultry seasoning. (I mix these in a big measuring jug. Sometimes I forget and end up with bits of egg shell, which I fish out with a fork. Oops.)
Add broth mix to the big bowl and stir everything well. Add your shredded meat, if using. Season with salt and pepper, but careful—broth can be salty, so go slow.
Grease a 9×13 pan with the rest of the butter or just spray it with baking spray if you’re feeling lazy. Dump in the dressing. Dot with a few more butter bits on top for good luck (and flavor).
Bake about 40–50 minutes. You want golden brown edges, mostly set in the middle. Don’t worry if it’s a bit wobbly—once it cools, it’ll firm right up.
Let it sit at least 10 minutes before serving. I know, torture.

Just some notes from a lotta trial and error

If you use really fresh bread, the dressing gets too mushy. Trust me, I tried it, and it was basically pudding. Not ideal.
You can add more broth if you like it wetter, but don’t go too far or you’ll be eating dressing-soup. Or maybe you’ll love that? Actually, I kind of liked it, but nobody else did.
If you somehow forget the eggs (see above), it still works, but it’s more crumbly. Not necessarily a dealbreaker if you love loose dressing.

How I’ve messed with this recipe (and one fail!)

One year I mixed in some chopped apples and pecans. People thought it was “interesting,” which in Southern talk means don’t do it again.
Swapped buttermilk for some of the broth for a tangy kick—actually pretty great, especially if you like that slight twang.
Tried baking in muffin tins for individual portions. Looked cute, but cleaning those pans? Never again.

Stuff I use (but don’t panic if you don’t have it all)

9×13 baking pan—my chipped old Pyrex is still going strong
Big mixing bowl (sometimes I use my stock pot for mixing because it’s huge and nothing falls out—no shame in that)
Medium skillet for softening veg
If you don’t have a whisk, a fork does the job just fine—I’ve done it a thousand times

How do I store the leftovers (if there are any)?

Pop your leftover dressing in a covered container in the fridge. It keeps for a good 3 days. You can reheat it in the oven or microwave (wrap it with a damp paper towel for the nuker so it stays nice and soft). But honestly, I barely ever have leftovers to store. If you wanna freeze it, slice it into blocks and wrap well; tastes almost as good when reheated. Here’s what Southern Living says about freezing dressing, and they know all the tricks.

How we love to serve it (with a family squabble or two)

I’m a purist—I always eat mine with a dollop of cranberry sauce, but my uncle swears by smothering his in giblet gravy. If you wanna get all fancy, put it in a big white serving dish with a tiny thyme sprig…though, let’s be real, we usually scoop ours right from the casserole pan. If you like your dressing crispy on top, let it bake an extra 5 minutes. Oh, and it tastes even better the next day, straight from the fridge (cold dressing breakfast, anyone?)

The stuff I wish I’d known early on (pro tips from my kitchen)

Don’t rush baking. I once tried cranking up the oven to finish quicker, and the top burned while the middle was still gloopy. Learn from my pain.
Taste as you go—seasoning at the end is a lost cause. Seriously, seasoning at the bowl is your friend.
Day-old bread is key. If you’re in a hurry, dry out fresh bread in a low oven for 10 minutes. (But also, just plan ahead, you’ll thank me.)

People ask me all sorts of stuff about dressing!

Is cornbread dressing the same as stuffing? Nope, not really. Dressing is cooked outside the bird; stuffing, well, you stuff it.
Can I make this gluten-free? Absolutely, just use a GF cornbread and bread. I found a great one at Minimalist Baker if you want to try it out.
What if I hate celery? Bless your heart—you can skip it. Maybe add a little extra onion or a diced bell pepper for color.
My dressing came out too dry/mushy! Welcome to the club. Add more broth if dry; bake longer if mushy. Sometimes you just have to trust your gut (and oven).
Can I prep this ahead? Sure can. I often mix it all together, cover, and pop in the fridge overnight. Bake right before eating, maybe adding a bit more broth to moisten if it looks stiff.
What if I don’t have poultry seasoning? Make your own–just blend some sage, thyme, rosemary, and maybe a touch of nutmeg. But go easy on the nutmeg… ask me how I know.

And by the way, if you’re ever out of eggs at the last minute, there’s folks online who swear by mashed sweet potato or even Greek yogurt as a binder. Haven’t tried it myself, but hey, cooking’s about adventure, right? Anyway, thanks for listening to me ramble about my favorite dish—I hope your family loves it as much as mine (even if y’all fight over the crispy corners like we do).