Is it just a potato-potahto thing, or is there a meaningful difference between Thanksgiving stuffings and dressings?

Depends on whom you ask.

The answer cited most often by chefs, cookbook authors and other Thanksgiving enthusiasts is one of avian physiology: it all comes down to inside the bird vs. outside.

"A lot of people will say that 'stuffing' is cooked inside the bird, and 'dressing' is served alongside," says Rebecca Hays, managing editor at Cook's Illustrated. "But I don't think there's technically a right or wrong answer."

The inside-outside theory does fall apart quickly. Hays says her New England-based magazine uses "stuffing" whether the dish -- usually some blend of bread laced with seasonings, vegetables, maybe meat -- is cooked inside or outside the bird.

Slip below the Mason-Dixon line, and the terminology flips: it's always 'dressing' regardless of how it's cooked.

"It's 'dressing' whether it's in the bird or not," says Jean Anderson, author of "A Love Affair with Southern Cooking," who found "dressing" to be universal in her collection of community cookbooks, those spiral-bound fund-raisers that capture a region's collective culinary wisdom.

Could it be the ingredients? A traditional Northern stuffing begins with sturdy white bread, while the most common Southern dressing is based on corn bread. But even those generalities can be challenged, and elements of the garnish vary so widely across the country that it's unlikely ingredients determine "stuffing" vs. "dressing."

In New England, onions, celery and herbs such as thyme and sage might be added to hearty white bread. Oysters will feature prominently in many coastal communities. Sausage might also find its way into the mix.

In parts of the Midwest with large eastern European communities, such as Chicago, rye or Bohemian-style bread might be used, says Thanksgiving cookbook author Rick Rodgers.

In northern California, sourdough bread might be added to wild mushrooms, chestnuts and seasonal ingredients such as artichokes. But it's all "stuffing," Rodgers says, even the hyper-regional tamale-based stuffing with pork, chilies and raisins that he uncovered in Texas.

"Pretty much I find the people who live south of the Mason-Dixon line and in some parts of the Midwest call it 'dressing,' but everywhere else, it's 'stuffing,'" he says. "There is no substantive difference. It's all bread that you put into poultry."

Even typical Southern dressings contain huge variations. While the most traditional version starts with corn bread, rice figures prominently in the Deep South and in the Carolina Lowcountry, where it grows, Anderson says.

Cracker crumbs or stale biscuits might form the base in more rural communities. Bits of ham, country bacon or sausage might honor the region's love of pig, but coastal areas might substitute oysters.

Once you hit Louisiana with its Cajun and Creole influences, Anderson says, andouille sausage and tasso might represent the pork, while chicken livers and hot pepper will spice up a rice-based dressing.

"It depends on whatever came to hand or was available," she says. "Southerners were very good at improvisation."

Witness Scott Peacock, the James Beard award-winning chef at Watershed Restaurant in Decatur, Ga., whose childhood table in southeastern Alabama featured dressing that combined corn bread, white bread and Saltine crackers.

"It was about thrift and economy and making the most of what you had," he says. His own criteria for true "dressing" -- which he cooks outside the bird -- focus on taste and texture.

"It should be light," he says, "what in the South we'd call 'souffléd.' And it should taste delightfully of its elements. You should have a really delicious corn bread flavor, the taste of good grain and an essence of poultry that's distilled down a bit."

So what, if anything, ultimately separates "stuffing" from "dressing?" The answer: politesse.

"'Stuffing' was not a pleasant word," says Eve Felder, associate dean at the Culinary Institute of America, who grew up in Charleston, S.C. "So you always called it 'dressing.' It's like 'grits' was not a pleasant word. So even though we lived on grits, we called it 'hominy' because it's a gentler word."

Corn bread-pecan dressing

To get the 4 tablespoons of bacon fat called for in this Southern-style dressing, cut five slices of bacon into 1/2-inch pieces and cook until crisp. Reserve the bacon for another use.

Start to finish: 2-1/2 hours (45 minutes active)

Makes 14 servings

For the corn bread:

2 cups white cornmeal

1-1/2 teaspoons salt

1-1/2 teaspoons baking soda

2 cups buttermilk

3 eggs, lightly beaten

4 tablespoons unsalted butter

For the dressing:

8 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided

4 tablespoons bacon fat

3 medium yellow onions, chopped

4 to 5 stalks celery with fine leaves, chopped

2 large shallots, finely chopped

2-1/2 teaspoons dried thyme

1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon rubbed sage

3 cups pecan halves, toasted

1 cup chicken stock, or more as needed

4 eggs, slightly beaten

Salt and ground black pepper, to taste

To make the corn bread, heat the oven to 450 degrees.

In a large bowl, whisk together the cornmeal, salt and baking soda. Whisk in the buttermilk and eggs. Set aside.

Place the butter in a 10-inch cast-iron skillet or a 9-by-9-inch baking pan. Place the skillet or pan in the oven until the butter melts and bubbles. Remove the pan from oven, and swirl the butter to coat, then pour it into the batter.

Mix the melted butter into the batter, then transfer the batter to the pan. Bake for 20 minutes, or until the corn bread is golden brown and crusty. Remove from the oven, and turn out onto a cooling rack and allow to cool completely.

Tear the cooled corn bread into large (1-1/2-inch) pieces, and allow to sit, uncovered, overnight to dry out. Alternately, you can put the corn bread pieces on a baking sheet in a warm oven for 30 minutes to dry out.

To make the dressing, heat the oven to 325 degrees. Lightly oil or butter a 9-by-13-by-2-inch casserole dish.

In a heavy skillet over medium, heat 4 tablespoons of the butter and the bacon fat. Add the onions, celery and shallots, and sauté for five minutes. Add the thyme and sage, then cook, stirring often, until the vegetables are tender but not browned, about 15 minutes.

In a large bowl, toss the corn bread pieces with the toasted pecans halves and the cooked vegetables.

Melt the remaining 4 tablespoons of butter, then whisk it together with the broth and eggs. Pour this mixture over the dressing, and toss well to blend. Season with salt and pepper.

Transfer the dressing to the prepared casserole dish, cover with foil and bake for 30 minutes. Remove the foil, and continue baking until golden brown, about another 15 to 20 minutes.

(Recipe from Edna Lewis and Scott Peacock's "The Gift of Southern Cooking," Knopf, 2003)

Sourdough bread stuffing with artichokes and sun-dried tomatoes

In California, you might find a stuffing like this one, featuring local sourdough bread and sunny Mediterranean flavors. Double the recipe for birds above 16 pounds.

Start to finish: 15 minutes

Makes eight cups

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 large red onion, chopped

2 garlic cloves, minced

10-ounce package frozen artichoke hearts, thawed and coarsely chopped

1/2 cup chopped oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes, drained

1 pound crusty sourdough or other country-style bread, cut into 1/2-inch cubes and dried overnight (about 5 cups)

1/2 cup chopped fresh basil

1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

1/2 cup dry vermouth or white wine

2 large eggs, beaten

1/2 to 1 cup turkey or chicken broth, as needed

Salt, to taste

In a large skillet over medium, heat the oil. Add the onion, and sauté until lightly browned, about six minutes. Stir in the garlic, and cook for one minute. Stir in the artichoke hearts and sun-dried tomatoes, then cook until heated through, about two minutes.

Transfer the vegetables and any liquid in the skillet to a large bowl. Add the bread cubes, basil, Parmesan cheese and pepper flakes. Gradually stir in the wine, eggs and 1/2 cup of the broth. Season with salt.

The stuffing can be added to a turkey and roasted, or placed in a buttered baking dish, drizzled with an additional 1/2 cup of broth, then covered and baked until heated through.

(Recipe from Rick Rodgers' "50 Best Stuffings and Dressings," Broadway Books, 1997)

Basic bread stuffing

This classic stuffing recipe calls for a standard bag of seasoned stuffing cubes. But if you'd rather start from scratch, cut 1 pound of white sandwich bread into 1/2-inch cubes. Leave the cubes out, uncovered, overnight to dry, then use as directed.

Start to finish: 20 minutes (not counting roasting time)

Makes 10 cups

8 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 large yellow onion, chopped

3 medium celery ribs with leaves, chopped

15-ounce bag cubed seasoned stuffing

1/4 chopped fresh parsley

2-1/2 to 3 cups reduced-sodium chicken broth

2 teaspoons poultry seasoning

Salt and ground black pepper, to taste

In a large skillet over medium, melt the butter. Add the onion and celery, then sauté until the onion is golden, about 10 minutes.

Transfer the vegetables and butter to a large bowl. Add the stuffing and parsley. Stir in enough of the broth to moistened the stuffing, about 2-1/2 cups. Season with the poultry seasoning, and mix well.

The stuffing can be added to a turkey and roasted, or placed in a buttered baking dish, drizzled with an additional 1/2 cup of broth, then covered and baked until heated through.

Sausage apple stuffing variation

In a large nonstick skillet over medium heat, brown 1 pound pork sausage (casings removed), breaking up the meat with a spoon, until cooked through, about 10 minutes. Add the meat and 1 cup chopped dried apples to the above recipe just before adding to the turkey or baking dish.

Oyster stuffing variation

Drain two 8-ounce cans of oysters, reserving the juices. If the oysters are large, cut them into two or three pieces. Add to the recipe above at the same time as the bread. Add enough broth to the reserved oyster juices to make 2-1/2 cups of liquid, and use this mixture in place of the broth called for.

(Recipe from Rick Rodgers' "Thanksgiving 101," Broadway Books, 1998)

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