My sister and I didn’t grow up rife with traditions. On Halloween, we wore old shirts to represent that we were hobos or beatniks, depending on our mood.  When we hung our socks on Christmas Eve, seeing them flat and unfilled the next morning reminded us that Santa didn’t stop for little Jewish girls—but there was always Thanksgiving.

We had the stuffing, the magic food we loved more than any other food in the entire world. If we landed on death row, our last meal would be the stuffing.

Originally made by Grandma Millie (circa a long time ago) and passed to her daughter-in-law (my mother) then to me, to my sister, and now to my children, and when he’s ready, my grandson. (And, if you care to try it, you.) The picture above includes me (the raggedy one in the high chair,) my sister, Jill, my mother, and my Grandma (not Millie) Kaplan. However, we are eating the Grandma Millie stuffing. (Though that is Grandma Kaplan.)

Below is Grandma Millie, with my father and my Aunt Thelma. (I believe she’s whispering the recipe to my aunt.)

There were variations from house to house. You could tweak it (Jill used garlic, I didn’t) but you never messed with the main ingredients: Uneeda Biscuits and stale rolls. Once upon a time, there was flexibility in the choice of rolls—but then, I discovered Bertucci’s rolls and became inflexible. Bertucci’s rolls are perfect in the stuffing, and thus, every Monday before Thanksgiving my husband, in his role as the hunter-gatherer of the holiday stops by the restaurant for his takeout order of, um, 2 bags of rolls.

But never did we ever mess with the Uneeda biscuits.

Then, year-by-year Thanksgiving became a little scary. Uneeda Biscuits began disappearing. The weeks before the hallowed meal I became obsessed with finding the suddenly difficult-to-find blue cardboard crackers boxes decorated with the little boy in the raincoat. Year-round, the entire family went on the lookout for these increasingly rare crackers. What was going on, Nabisco?

One year I was able to order them from Amazon. Then not. I discovered that DeLuca’s Market in the Beacon Hill neighborhood of Boston stocked them (Most likely  for nearby frail ladies in their nineties who crumbled them in their Campbell’s.) For years, I’d drive down and clean them out, sometimes, when only 4 or 5 boxes remained. I’d shudder, knowing how close I’d come to a Uneeda-less year.

Then, one terrible year, when we were already dangerously close to Thanksgiving, they disappeared. Deluca’s didn’t have them—though they promised they’d soon arrive. My older daughter swore she’d seen them in a Market Basket in a suburb 40 minutes from our house. My husband and I raced over. We scoured the aisles. I called my daughter—oh, had she forgotten to mention the sighting had been months before? We drove back to DeLuca’s, (surely they’d re-stocked) thinking it an auger of success when we found a parking spot in front (a Beacon Hill miracle.)

Nothing.

A wonderful clerk went to the order form. I held my breath.

Nothing. No longer being ordered.

Nauseated by fear, I went home to, of course, Google Uneeda Biscuits. I learned, on Chowhound (my new best friend) that it was over. They were gone. Discontinued. Kaput. (A fact that  hit me all over again in Northampton, MA, where I discovered remnants of what must have been the manufacturing plant (or, a temple to my beloved cracker.)

But, oh Lordy, via ChowHound, I learned that Grandma Millie’s secret was known by others. OMG! We were not the only family in America who considered Uneeda Biscuits the holy grail of stuffing ingredients. We were not the only family in America for whom Uneeda Biscuits were the cure for stomach aches, depression, and holidays.

We were not alone!

But wait; there was more! The miracle of Thanksgiving unfolded on my screen. Others, secret byte-sized friends, had already attacked the problem and found a solution: Goya Snack Crackers. They weren’t a clone or a complete match, but, as my savior, Bicycle Chick wrote, they are quite similar in flavor.

She was correct. We were saved.

We’ve moved ahead, happily crumbling Goya’s (though we will never forget our Undeedas.)

There have been other changes to the recipe over the years. Being nothing if not flexible (you now hear the sound of my daughter’s eyes rolling.) I make various versions to suit various tastes (with and without celery; with and without mushrooms.)

The recipe below is as close as I can come to providing instruction—it’s always been a trial and error, see-how-it-tastes-raw, and then cook-it-when-it ’s-ready sort of food. But get it right, and you will have the perfect balance of carbs, fat, vegetables, and butter. Heaven. Grandma Millie’s stuffing isn’t just a food—it’s a lifestyle.

This recipe calls for the ability to play and taste as you mix, sauté, and cook. Uncooked it should be heavy and soggy, but not wet. Baked, it should be crunchy in places, soft in others, buttery, and, if you are a carb lover, you should find it almost impossible to stop eating.

RECIPE OF SORTS FOR GRANDMA MILLIE’S STUFFING

Preheat oven to 350°.

I don’t stuff the bird, but you can. I prefer baked stuffing. This is the most casual and forgiving of recipes. The amounts, as close as I can come to are below, in order to serve eight WITH enough to send home with daughters AND keep enough post-holiday to eat for the next two or three nights.

Ingredients:

Two to four large bags of basic Goya crackers. (Start with a smaller amount and then add till it feels right.)

A dozen or so Bertucci’s Restaurant perfect and amazing rolls.  (Buy ahead and let them get super stale. Toast in the oven if you forgot to make them stale.) They are called ‘rustic dinner rolls’, which I guess means super-crispy outside and soft inside. And smallish. Not that I expect anyone would actually bake rolls for the stuffing, but here’s how to make them. If there’s no Bertuccis near you, look for rolls like these below:

Lots of butter–have more than a pound on hand.
Kosher salt
Fresh ground pepper
2 large onions
Pick from the below vegetables. I suggest never skipping the carrots:
Lots of Celery (diced medium) (at least one bunch; I use more)*
Many shredded carrots (at least one bunch; I use more)
Mushrooms (at least two boxes–or none, if your family despises mushrooms.*
5-6 eggs
Milk. Lots of milk. Whole milk

* if you are as willing to spoil family members as am I, make different batches to their spoiled palates: with mushrooms for some, without for others; same with celery. However, I refuse to leave out carrots. Even bad mothers have limits.

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Instructions

Break crackers and rolls into small (but not teensy) pieces.

Soak crackers and rolls in warmed milk. (Enough to cover, but not overwhelm the rolls and crackers. You want the milk to soften, but not drown them.)

Beat about 5-8 eggs (or more, depending on how ‘eggy’ you like your stuffing) Again, start with a smaller amount and add as needed. Set aside.

Melt lots of butter in your largest skillet or sauté pan. Add onions, sauté for a bit. Add all other vegetables and sauté until soft. Add salt and pepper to taste.

(Do you over-love your family? If so, make separate pans of stuffing for those who love/hate certain veggies so as to satisfy them all.  This requires determining which family members you love best; make them the largest pan.) 

Squeeze leftover milk from crackers (or add more if they seem too hard).

Mix in vegetables and the butter from the pan. Add beaten eggs. If the mix seems dry, add more melted butter. If it tastes bland, add some salt. Pat into baking dishes (it will require more than a few) dot with butter and bake until top seems crunchy (about an hour, sometimes less).

If you are baking ahead (which I always do) then underbake it a tad. When reheating, add butter on top. And, of course, as you eat the leftovers, day after day, as I do, keep the butter coming. The picture below? That’s a pan of stuffing I hid for day three, post-Thanksgiving (in the fridge!) giving new meaning to ‘rustic’ looking food. (Butter is dotted on top.)

I am obsessed with this stuffing. My entire family needs, craves and loves it. Soggy, buttery, rolls and crackers baked with tons of butter, eggs, milk, celery, carrots, and mushroom (as requested.)