Gingerbread construction has begun. The kitchen smells like cinnamon, ginger, and cloves- there is molasses and flour all over the countertops, and my father's drill bits are sitting beside the stove. "That's what Dremel tools were made for, I'm sure of it!" he proclaims.
My family's repetoire of cookie-architecture is pretty noteworthy. Clever, edible creations of the past include: the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame Cathedral (complete with flying butresses... and me learning the word "butress"), the Space Needle (with little gummy-bears peeking out from the observation deck), a replica of the Excalibur holtel from Las Vegas, a toy factory, the Casa Batllo by Gaudi, and the Polar Express.
This year we're going for shotgun-houses stacked on top of one another a-la post-hurricaine New Orleans. Hopefully we won't be smited for making something artistic and delicious out of a tragic event. We're 12-cups of flour deep and I'm about to refuse making another batch of dough. Dad created a cypress tree to help balance the structure... the beginnings of branches make it look like it has boobs. (God bless us, everyone.) He's also working on a mold for a boat we're going to stick either onto the tree or a sloping rooftop. He keeps trying to come up with a good candy substitute for Spanish moss. (What's the candy equivalent of crawdads?) We might have some strewn-about Sweedish fish.
New Orleans is a crazy place... so I figure our creation can be a little wack too.
It is good to be home.
My family's repetoire of cookie-architecture is pretty noteworthy. Clever, edible creations of the past include: the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame Cathedral (complete with flying butresses... and me learning the word "butress"), the Space Needle (with little gummy-bears peeking out from the observation deck), a replica of the Excalibur holtel from Las Vegas, a toy factory, the Casa Batllo by Gaudi, and the Polar Express.
This year we're going for shotgun-houses stacked on top of one another a-la post-hurricaine New Orleans. Hopefully we won't be smited for making something artistic and delicious out of a tragic event. We're 12-cups of flour deep and I'm about to refuse making another batch of dough. Dad created a cypress tree to help balance the structure... the beginnings of branches make it look like it has boobs. (God bless us, everyone.) He's also working on a mold for a boat we're going to stick either onto the tree or a sloping rooftop. He keeps trying to come up with a good candy substitute for Spanish moss. (What's the candy equivalent of crawdads?) We might have some strewn-about Sweedish fish.
New Orleans is a crazy place... so I figure our creation can be a little wack too.
It is good to be home.
2 comments:
You Cravens all sound like such a fantastic bunch. Best of luck with the "construction". Enjoy home..RELAX..push the little buggers out of mind for a couple weeks and soak up the Northwest goodness. Happy Holidays! :)
It looks huge :) I enjoyed reading some on your blog!
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