In Provincetown, MA, on Commercial Street there is this wonderful old barn of a building. Inside there’s a shop unlike anything else in the world. At least it was there in 2000 when I got these cookie cutters. You see they’re light houses.
The place sold all sorts of Marine goodies like diving gear and ceramic mugs that looked like they were from the Titanic and Deck Prisms and weather monitoring equipment.
So since this was the season to make cookies, yesterday the house was chock full of Gingerbread men. I’ve made my chocolate chip, we made pizelles and these gingerbread cookies. The “A” cookies will go as gifts. The “B” cookies, the imperfect ones, will stay home and make me fat.
The thing is that the cutters were sold as Lighthouses. That is my story and I’m sticking to it.
I’ve made rude Gingerbread men before. Some were even anatomically correct… and for equal rights I made anatomically correct Gingerbread women. Curvy and beautiful in their brown skin, they’d smile at me like a Mona Lisa beckoning me with their belly buttons and their … ahem, smile.
So if you think they look amusing, hey that’s what I’m here for. I’ll take a cookie for the team.
But remember as Freud said: “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar”.