As the thermometer plummets and cold, dreary days become the norm, my thoughts turn to wassail and all the warmth and good cheer that it brings.  Derived from the Norse phrase “ves heill” or “be in good health,” wassail holds several longstanding, culinary roles.  It can be a toast to the aforementioned health, the alcoholic drink with which one is toasted, or the festive event where drinking and toasting occurs.  Yet, oddly enough, to go ‘wassailing’ could just as easily mean that you’re off caroling at Christmastime as out imbibing.   Of course, the carolers of yore did expect to receive steaming cups of wassail, food, and heartfelt good wishes in exchange for their melodies. At my house wassail is a favorite hot, mulled drink.   Although customarily made with mead or ale and occasionally wine, I opt for a seasonal brew of white rum and apple cider.  Whole cloves, cinnamon sticks and ground ginger spice up the tart cider while an ample amount of sugar sweetens the mix. Traditionally, this toasty beverage was placed …

A recent assignment forced me to spend a warm, sunny Sunday in the kitchen, testing stuffing recipes.  It also got me thinking about my troubled relationship with this cooking staple.  Since Stovetop Stuffing became all the rage during my toddler years, I have only hazy memories of my mother making homemade, rather than just-add-boiling-water, dressings.  As a result, I can share no cherished family recipes for Mom’s cranberry-chestnut stuffing or  Grandmother’s sweet potato-lentil filling.  I can, however, wax about the stuffing varieties offered by Kraft Foods. Hobbled by this culinary deficit, I’ve experienced my share of homemade stuffing disasters.  Take the Thanksgiving where I watched my husband’s extended family spoon out parched bread cubes that clinked as they hit the dinner plates.   Then there was the follow-up meal where I overcompensated for the bone dry dressing and served a bland, gooey porridge of bread, minced onions and celery.  No wonder my mother opted for store-bought mixes. Fortunately, I — and my dinner guests — persevered and learned from my mistakes.  Today I can actually …