#8 – More Construction…of the Candy Sort

My first snowman of the year!

My first snowman of the year!

Over the course of the last 3 weeks, I have designed,  toiled, shopped, cut, baked, and constructed, for the gingery result of a new home.

As a child, I remember making a gingerbread house with my mom. It was lined with those German pretzel-shaped ginger cookies covered in bitter chocolate. I loved those.

Years later, I built another gingerbread house, following a recipe I found in a magazine. And I followed it to a T. But now, at 39, with a 13 year-old not remotely interested in making a gingerbread house, I found myself ready for the challenge of designing and building one. I sat in bed one night, drew my desired house, measured (sort of) everything on cardboard, cut it out and built a house in cardboard. Oh, and let’s add a gazebo, for good measure. I then used those cardboard pieces as stencils for my cookie house.

Anyone who has made a gingerbread house of any substance will know that it’s not an all-in-one-day endeavour. You have to make the dough, roll it out, cut the pieces, bake them; make more dough, roll it out, cut more pieces to replace the ones you cut incorrectly in the first place (ahem), allow them to cool, make the icing-glue (egg whites and icing sugar), start putting it all together and then do some waiting.

Long story short, by the time I was finished constructing and decorating this house, I put away my gingerbread construction clothes for another 10 years. It was fun. I did it because of this challenge, but I think I would have preferred spending some of that time baking cookies for my plow guy and my mechanic. Running behind on those things…

But in the end, here is the final result – My gingerbread house, snowman and gazebo. Yum.

Marshmallow Snowman's new home...until someone eats it.

Marshmallow Snowman’s new home…until someone eats it.

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About Erin Kuhns

Stepping out of the woods and out of my comfort zone. One year...one hundred new things to ensure I don't spend another year sitting in the armchair of life.
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