Last Thanksgiving was my first without my mom, and my first trying to replicate her beloved stuffing.

She made that stuffing every holiday season for at least 60 years, completing it only after an odyssey of taste-testing. She never followed a recipe, or wrote down any measurements.

It wasn’t considered Thanksgiving unless we had Mom’s stuffing; even if we catered a meal, we’d never substitute that part.

In 2016, on our first Thanksgiving after she died, making the stuffing triggered so many memories.

I can still picture her carefully chopping the vegetables, browning the meats and simmering them together with chicken stock and all the seasonings, a process she savored while watching the news or a ball game on TV.

She eventually stretched out the cooking over two days, as she found it harder to stand for hours at the stove. But her leisurely pace also enabled us to enjoy the aromas wafting through the house longer.

One year everyone agreed that using the right amount of sage was the key ingredient. Once she hit the right note, you’d moan with weakness through a mouthful: “Oh my god, this is so good! This is the best stuffing you’ve ever made!” Anything short of that was a disappointment to her.

But how much sage was the big question. Her cooking tips for everything she made amounted to: “Put just a ‘lil’ in at a time” or “Use about a half a can.” Mom relied on her keen sense of smell and discerning taste buds, and on the verdict of her “official taster,” my sister Debbie.

I had watched her make the stuffing enough times to think I could come close to her masterpiece. What hubris. With all that stirring and adding ingredients, I felt like the sorcerer’s apprentice in Disney’s “Fantasia” — I ended up with pots overflowing.

It was close, my family said, but not worth moaning over.

The first time, I didn’t measure how much sage I used; I just shook it on liberally. That was my first mistake. Little did I realize there is a difference between ground sage (more intense) and rubbed (or crumbled) sage, and I don’t think my mother did either. She bought both types. This year I did my research, and used only rubbed sage, a half-teaspoon at a time.

Another mistake was not taking into account all the salt in the sausage, bacon and chicken broth, so I made a second batch with no-salt-added stock.

Texture is an important factor. We don’t like our stuffing dry and crumbly, but it shouldn’t become soggy or turn into a rubbery mass, either. It should resemble a perfect bread pudding in “mouthfeel.” We want to be able to distinguish a few chewy lumps of white bread. And Mom never used anything with health-conscious grains or crusty French bread, just plain Love’s white bread.

Instead of using the toaster, last year I patted myself on the back for toasting the bread more efficiently in the regular oven, after cutting it into too-little squares and drizzling it with oil. I ended up with brittle croutons, which just dissolved into a mushy mess once I added it to the broth mixture — it didn’t even look like Mom’s.

So I retoasted another loaf of bread the old-fashioned way, making sure to leave the inside a bit chewy, then cut it into cubes. Mom also threw in a portion of Love’s premade stuffing mix, which does have the texture of crunchy croutons. But she used it just as a filler or as a supplement if the stuffing got too wet. (I don’t think she used the enclosed seasoning packet, so I left it out.)

This year, I got the recipe down to three versions, and it dawned on me that all the tweaking and tasting is part of the tradition, because Mom went through the same process even after decades. Every cook modifies a recipe to suit her own tastes and to avoid taboo items her family doesn’t like. With this disclaimer in place, and emphasis on the word “approximate,” I offer this recipe, merely as a guide.

MOM’S SAGE STUFFING

By Harriet Gee

• 6 ounces sliced bacon, cut in 2-inch pieces
• 2 16-ounce packages of Farmer John links or a roll of pork sausage
• 2 cups EACH celery and onion, chopped
• 7 cloves garlic, chopped
• 1/2 teaspoon EACH salt and pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon crushed dried rosemary
• 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon rubbed sage (see note)
• 2 teaspoons dried thyme
• 3 bay leaves
• 1 (32-ounce) box unsalted chicken broth
• 4 ounces butter
• 1 cup water
• 10 cups white bread (almost 1 loaf), cubed
• 4 cups Love’s Stuffing Mix

In a large pot with a wide bottom, brown bacon until crisp; drain on paper towels. Pour out excess oil. Brown sausage, remove from pot and drain on paper towels. Pour out excess oil. Brown celery and onions, then add garlic. Add herbs and seasonings, then chicken broth, butter and water; simmer 1 hour.

Meanwhile, toast and cut up the bread. Use a toaster to toast each slice of bread, making it light to medium brown (not hard). Cut slices into 3/4-inch cubes. Set aside. (This part can be done the day before.)

Remove the pot from heat. Mix in premade stuffing (discard seasoning packet), and once the liquid is absorbed, add white bread cubes. Mix and let sit at least an hour in the refrigerator, then mix again.

Heat oven to 300 degrees. Place stuffing in a greased medium baking dish, cover with foil, and bake 30 to 40 minutes.

If you like a crust, increase heat to 350 degrees; remove foil. Bake 15 minutes more, to let top brown. Serves 10.

>> Note: Rubbed sake, aka “Dalmatian” sage, may be found in most supermarkets. If using ground sage, use less; if using fresh, 7 minced sage leaves equal about 1 teaspoon of ground sage.

Approximate nutritional information, per serving: 700 calories, 50 g total fat, 20 g saturated fat, 120 mg cholesterol, greater than 1,500 mg sodium, 37 g carbohydrate, 3 g fiber, 5 g sugar, 24 g protein.

Harriet Gee, was a Honolulu Star-Bulletin reporter for about 40 years, covering the courts for 18 years and writing the popular “Kokua Line” column for 13. She died in January 2016 at age 89.