I was watching The View the other day where Whoopi Goldberg was searching for a particular Gingerbread cookie. The one she has loved for years was baked by a woman who passed away. Because she has a TV show, she had access to bakers around the states to send her samples to try. She wanted it chewy, not crisp…not too tart, not too sweet and with raisins. She found the one she was looking for. It made me want some gingerbread even though I know one bite would be enough for me.
This led me to remember the year I was in 9th grade. My girlfriend, Andra and I decided it would be a fine idea to bake gingerbread men for the class. Never mind that we never attempted to bake much less bake gingerbread cookies! Listen, how hard could it be? Ha!
We should have known as soon as we set out to buy the ingredients. Honestly I don’t remember where we even got a recipe. There was no internet in those days. But of course, there must have been cookbooks and libraries. In any case, one of the ingredients that totally stumped us was molasses. Molasses? What the heck was that and better still…where would we get it in Chinatown? Plenty of anise star, five spice powder and ginger root. But molasses? No can find. Not important! We’ll just substitute honey. Close enough.
Saturday came and Andra came to my house and we rolled up our sleeves and figured this would be a Norman Rockwell moment. Two chicks laughing and baking some pretty mean cookies. I was able to get the cutest gingerbread man cookie cutter. Where? I couldn’t tell you but I have it to this day.
It was messy. As I have said, I am not a baker and hate working with flour. Forget about adding other things like eggs and god knows what else. It was the blind leading the blind but I have to admit, the end product looked pretty good. The aroma was enticing. The Men looked so cute and uniformed. We were pretty happy with ourselves and couldn’t wait to present our thoughtful gift to the class and bask in their appreciation.
Somehow by Monday, probably on Sunday, the Men became hard as rock! (That dreaded honey!) When I brought them into class and passed them out to the other kids, no teeth could penetrate the “tough cookie”. Instead the boys, considerate and sympathetic as always, played hockey with them. Suffice it to say, that was the first and last time I saw Andra cry as our gingerbread men went flying across the floor.
I personally thought it was kind of funny and despite the outcome, it did bond Andra and I and we still speak of it till this day. But I haven’t ever had the desire to bake gingerbread again or even buy it. But if you gave me one, I would happily take a bite.
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