This 'weird' lasagna is my family's favorite Christmas meal of all time

I was in my 30s before I realized this recipe is a little unusual. But don't tell my family that.

I was working at another magazine about a decade ago when I told a colleague about plans to go to my hometown for the holidays and make lasagna with my family for Christmas Day. It's an all-day affair: stirring and seasoning the sauce, cooking the noodles, layering the dish, then finally baking (and baking) until the dish is bubbly and melty.

"That must be some lasagna," she said. And it is. I detailed the meat sauce, the process, and then I said the two words that nearly knocked her off her feet: cottage cheese.

I've had many versions of lasagna in my life, all of them great and wonderful. But in my family, lasagna is made with cottage cheese, not ricotta. Between the layers of sauce and pasta, we spoon a spread of plain cottage cheese (and spoon a few bites for ourselves while we build). That, it seems, is unusual. But not to us—and not to Senior Lifestyle Editor Ivy Odom.

Last year, Ivy shared her family's recipe for Christmas Eve Lasagna, another recipe that's made with, yes, cottage cheese.

"Some folks like to change up their holiday menus from year to year, but not the Odoms," she wrote of her family's tradition of eating "Mémère’s lasagna" every Christmas Eve. "Like all the best family recipes, this keeper was passed down by word of mouth, to my dad from his Mémère, my great-grandmother. In her thick French Canadian-in-Connecticut accent, she would say the layers out loud as she assembled them ... 'meat sauce, cottage cheese, cheese, noodles.'"

Ivy continues, "For my entire childhood, this is how we made lasagna, until one year my mama pointed out—to our chagrin—that most recipes use ricotta."

Now I'll stop her story right there (don't worry, we'll pick it back up). When I pointed out to my grandfather (this is his family's recipe after all) that ricotta cheese is traditional in lasagna, not cottage cheese, he flipped his hand up and said, "I've never even heard of that."

He's not wrong. I once had to buy ricotta cheese in Birmingham and drive it to my hometown when I planned to make ricotta pancakes for brunch Mother's Day weekend. Our local Piggy Wiggly, Walmart, and other stores simply did not stock ricotta cheese until maybe five years ago. (Publix has recently opened up, so our cheese and dairy options have grown greatly. Thank you, Publix.)

Ivy's story picks up again: "In search of the truth, we called my Great-Aunt Bobbie (Mémère’s daughter). It turned out, either due to her mother’s strong accent or to my dad’s foggy memory, somewhere along the line, 'ricotta' had become 'cottage.' Regardless of who was to blame, Aunt Bobbie claimed our cheese choice wasn’t authentic."

Ivy's dad corrected his memory and made the lasagna Mémère’s way, "but we missed how the cottage cheese curds didn’t fully melt, creating a supercreamy layer that the grainy ricotta just couldn’t deliver."

And that's the magic of cottage cheese versus ricotta cheese in lasagna. If you love ricotta in lasagna, it's probably because you like how it melts into the rest of the lasagna, nearly disappearing and melding with the other layers.

For the best texture and flavor, Ivy and I both prefer Publix brand whole-milk small-curd cottage cheese. Great Value, Walmart's store brand, also makes a great option.

But if you like cottage cheese, like Ivy and I do, you appreciate how the curds stand up to the baking process, leaving behind a creamy layer of sweet dairy goodness amid the savory sauce and other ingredients.

Ivy finishes, "Since that experiment, we’ve always made our night-before-Christmas dish the way we like it. While it may not be my great-grandmother’s exact recipe, the story of 'her' lasagna reminds us that when we make special dishes our own, new memories are made. I think she would be proud of that."

And for that reason, I happily share the good news of our cottage cheese lasagna with everyone now. I'll even share the recipe, which differs slightly from Ivy's. But I require one promise before I pass along a photo of my grandfather's handwritten recipe: You must use cottage cheese. No ifs, ands, or buts. This is how this dish deserves to be made.