The Gingerbread Jubilee is in it's eighth year. A gingerbread spectacular like no other. It is not for the faint of heart. The cleverest usually winds up getting featured on the front of the Medford Mail Tribune's "Tempo" section. There are cash rewards, lots of attention, and I guess for those group efforts, pleasurable family time. There are classes now, taught in town, just for people who want to enter the Jubilee. One of the women sitting by her cute but amateur house said, "If I'd had any idea, I never would have entered!" Obviously new to town.
We know the woman who usually wins. Before the family moved to Central Point, they used to have a hair salon next to the Deli. Although they are very kind, and gave very nice reasonable haircuts, I can't say I miss the smell of permanent waves wafting out over the clam chowder and turkey pastries.
They were a roly poly family. Big and religious. In an evangelical way. Everyone was surprised when the very beautiful, but easily 300-pound Melilssa, somehow nabbed a young man that looked like a country singer--a scrawny and scrappy country singer. Jesus was good to Melissa, she got a good looking husband, got really skinny, and then had a whole passle of children. All this while still running her hair salon and becoming the Gingerbread Queen of Medford, all before the age of 27.
The thing was, I hadn't seen Melissa's transformation. We had been about equal when she left. Often commiserating over our mutual difficulty in taking off the weight.
Then Melissa had her breakout moment. She became instantly famous for her gingerbread version of Autzen Stadium. It was featured on the front page of the paper. We all exclaimed over what she was able to do with jelly beans and fondant. Hummel move over. Melissa is a sculptor extraordinaire. My kids couldn't wait to go to the Jubilee and get a peek at this miniature version of their favorite place on earth.
To you rookies, Autzen is an Oregon Mecca. The faithful go there to worship throughout the fall, pom-poms fluttering from their trunks, flags hung from their windows. Babies are born green and yellow and are taught to say "Go Ducks!" before they can say "Mama."
Anyhoo, Melissa built Autzen stadium, and filled the stands with Jelly Bellys fans. Every Jelly Belly had personality. They had clothes, banners, face paint. It was unbelievable. You could have easily spent 45 minutes gazing into the bowl of Autzen--there was so much detail. The Duck mascot, rival Beaver fans, little Jelly Belly football players in the grid iron uniform. Crazy good, and funny. We were mesmerized. We paid no attention to the rail-thin woman sitting in the metal chair next to the creation. She smiled at us and called us by name. I looked directly into her face and still didn't recognize her. It couldn't be Melissa. She had beautifully luminous skin before, sparkling eyes, and long black hair. The hair was still there, but despite all her new cheek bones her skin had lost its elasticity. Her eyes some of their sparkle. But maybe that was just my own incredulity and envy speaking. Maybe she was just tired from all that Gingerbread making. I gave her a giant hug and congratulated her on all of her successes.`
Now her kids have grown up . . . sort of, they're like 9 and 6 and 2. And they all build gingerbread houses too. Last year they did Storybook Land, and three others. This year it's Charlotte's Web, Wall-e and Noah's Ark, complete with an ostrich puking out a porthole. Melissa always cracks a little joke. Hah.
There are competitors on Melissa's heels. There was a really good Three Pigs, complete with straw house ablaze, Hansel and Gretel with a peek hole in the roof of the witch's house, you could see her in there with her candy-cane jail, licking her lips, getting ready for those porky little kids. Yumm. My sons and I usually deliberate long and hard over our favorites. You are supposed to vote. This year they were all so good, we decided it would be an insult to all competitors to choose a favorite.
Melissa, surprisingly, was not the $1000 Grand Prize Winner this year. It was a lady who built a lighthouse. The ground the light house was on, was full of marzipan dinosaur fossils. The giant boulders around the base of the house were festooned with starfish, lobsters, mussels, clams, scallops, mmm (I'm getting hungry) and every other manner of sea creature. There was the light house keeper in the tower with it's cutaway view of him climbing down the stairs after lighting the lamp. Yes, it lights. There were lead-paned windows made out of sheets of gelatin.
You could see the light house wife, fallen asleep at the kitchen table over her crossword puzzle.
I had one German lady shout at me while I was looking in a window, because I bent over while she was taking a picture . . . "Now I've got a picture of your butt! Nice. That is so nice, while I am taking a picture!" How was I to know? This may be the same lady that shouted at my kids during the first Jubilee! I think she is a Gingerbread Spy, either that or they have never seen this stuff in Germany and she sends a complete dossier back to Deutschland. I don't know.
The Lighthouse creator said she started making the pieces in August. Her husband is always relieved at the end of Gingerbread season, because his wife becomes seasonally tempermental and the house is overcome with gingerbread product in various stages of completion.
My husband being a rookie, stalled on attending this family excursion and we didn't get there til after 2:00. Full house. Big line. Must be orderly. Youngest child with pants way down his hips and a penchant for putting fingertips very close to the edibles is freaking most of the attendants out. Yes, there is an attendant-bouncer-docent for each house. Really. They are often the creme de la creme of Medford Society. There is much Howdy-doing. Many hellos so good to see yous. And then there is the bragging on whether or not you know the Gingerbread architect or the home's sponsor. Really. It's fun. Melissa, however, was not in attendance. We missed her. We certainly let everyone know she is a personal friend.
We howdy-do-ed her parents. Admired the amazing spider web that had "Some Pig" written across it (M's 9-year old boy did that one!), and I wondered where our queen was. I think she is personally responsible for the amazing quality of our Jubilee. Grand Prize winner or not. Her talent has spawned the plethora of classes, unusual edible creations (you should see the Japanese Tea House--the roof is made out of seaweed), and spurred others to greater flights of fancy. She has forced competitors to push the envelope. Something all good art does--hers happens to be fondant.
She has even inspired my husband. The man who hasn't baked a birthday cake in 14 years is plotting his own gingerbread creation. So, we'll see you at the next Jubilee, I'm sure we will be suffering from seasonal tempermentalism, but we will have benifitted from the family time. And who knows, we might be the next Grand Prize Winner. We'll be sure to say Howdy.
We know the woman who usually wins. Before the family moved to Central Point, they used to have a hair salon next to the Deli. Although they are very kind, and gave very nice reasonable haircuts, I can't say I miss the smell of permanent waves wafting out over the clam chowder and turkey pastries.
They were a roly poly family. Big and religious. In an evangelical way. Everyone was surprised when the very beautiful, but easily 300-pound Melilssa, somehow nabbed a young man that looked like a country singer--a scrawny and scrappy country singer. Jesus was good to Melissa, she got a good looking husband, got really skinny, and then had a whole passle of children. All this while still running her hair salon and becoming the Gingerbread Queen of Medford, all before the age of 27.
The thing was, I hadn't seen Melissa's transformation. We had been about equal when she left. Often commiserating over our mutual difficulty in taking off the weight.
Then Melissa had her breakout moment. She became instantly famous for her gingerbread version of Autzen Stadium. It was featured on the front page of the paper. We all exclaimed over what she was able to do with jelly beans and fondant. Hummel move over. Melissa is a sculptor extraordinaire. My kids couldn't wait to go to the Jubilee and get a peek at this miniature version of their favorite place on earth.
To you rookies, Autzen is an Oregon Mecca. The faithful go there to worship throughout the fall, pom-poms fluttering from their trunks, flags hung from their windows. Babies are born green and yellow and are taught to say "Go Ducks!" before they can say "Mama."
Anyhoo, Melissa built Autzen stadium, and filled the stands with Jelly Bellys fans. Every Jelly Belly had personality. They had clothes, banners, face paint. It was unbelievable. You could have easily spent 45 minutes gazing into the bowl of Autzen--there was so much detail. The Duck mascot, rival Beaver fans, little Jelly Belly football players in the grid iron uniform. Crazy good, and funny. We were mesmerized. We paid no attention to the rail-thin woman sitting in the metal chair next to the creation. She smiled at us and called us by name. I looked directly into her face and still didn't recognize her. It couldn't be Melissa. She had beautifully luminous skin before, sparkling eyes, and long black hair. The hair was still there, but despite all her new cheek bones her skin had lost its elasticity. Her eyes some of their sparkle. But maybe that was just my own incredulity and envy speaking. Maybe she was just tired from all that Gingerbread making. I gave her a giant hug and congratulated her on all of her successes.`
Now her kids have grown up . . . sort of, they're like 9 and 6 and 2. And they all build gingerbread houses too. Last year they did Storybook Land, and three others. This year it's Charlotte's Web, Wall-e and Noah's Ark, complete with an ostrich puking out a porthole. Melissa always cracks a little joke. Hah.
There are competitors on Melissa's heels. There was a really good Three Pigs, complete with straw house ablaze, Hansel and Gretel with a peek hole in the roof of the witch's house, you could see her in there with her candy-cane jail, licking her lips, getting ready for those porky little kids. Yumm. My sons and I usually deliberate long and hard over our favorites. You are supposed to vote. This year they were all so good, we decided it would be an insult to all competitors to choose a favorite.
Melissa, surprisingly, was not the $1000 Grand Prize Winner this year. It was a lady who built a lighthouse. The ground the light house was on, was full of marzipan dinosaur fossils. The giant boulders around the base of the house were festooned with starfish, lobsters, mussels, clams, scallops, mmm (I'm getting hungry) and every other manner of sea creature. There was the light house keeper in the tower with it's cutaway view of him climbing down the stairs after lighting the lamp. Yes, it lights. There were lead-paned windows made out of sheets of gelatin.
You could see the light house wife, fallen asleep at the kitchen table over her crossword puzzle.
I had one German lady shout at me while I was looking in a window, because I bent over while she was taking a picture . . . "Now I've got a picture of your butt! Nice. That is so nice, while I am taking a picture!" How was I to know? This may be the same lady that shouted at my kids during the first Jubilee! I think she is a Gingerbread Spy, either that or they have never seen this stuff in Germany and she sends a complete dossier back to Deutschland. I don't know.
The Lighthouse creator said she started making the pieces in August. Her husband is always relieved at the end of Gingerbread season, because his wife becomes seasonally tempermental and the house is overcome with gingerbread product in various stages of completion.
My husband being a rookie, stalled on attending this family excursion and we didn't get there til after 2:00. Full house. Big line. Must be orderly. Youngest child with pants way down his hips and a penchant for putting fingertips very close to the edibles is freaking most of the attendants out. Yes, there is an attendant-bouncer-docent for each house. Really. They are often the creme de la creme of Medford Society. There is much Howdy-doing. Many hellos so good to see yous. And then there is the bragging on whether or not you know the Gingerbread architect or the home's sponsor. Really. It's fun. Melissa, however, was not in attendance. We missed her. We certainly let everyone know she is a personal friend.
We howdy-do-ed her parents. Admired the amazing spider web that had "Some Pig" written across it (M's 9-year old boy did that one!), and I wondered where our queen was. I think she is personally responsible for the amazing quality of our Jubilee. Grand Prize winner or not. Her talent has spawned the plethora of classes, unusual edible creations (you should see the Japanese Tea House--the roof is made out of seaweed), and spurred others to greater flights of fancy. She has forced competitors to push the envelope. Something all good art does--hers happens to be fondant.
She has even inspired my husband. The man who hasn't baked a birthday cake in 14 years is plotting his own gingerbread creation. So, we'll see you at the next Jubilee, I'm sure we will be suffering from seasonal tempermentalism, but we will have benifitted from the family time. And who knows, we might be the next Grand Prize Winner. We'll be sure to say Howdy.
1 comment:
Marcia I thoroughly enjoyed my armchair tour through gingerbread land.
KMB
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