Design & Lifestyle...
Jan 17, 2008
The Gingerbread House Contest
The Gingerbread House Contest and Auction is a big deal up in Columbia. It’s a fundraiser for the local school--contestants donate their houses so they can be auctioned off. But it’s also a competition to determine who’s the best builder. Living in New York City during the week, and finding my weekend neighbors usually reluctant to reveal naked ambition, the seasonal lust for victory makes me feel right at home. The Columbians may live in a close-knit anthroposophical farming community, but they enjoy kicking each other’s butts once a year.
I’d seen the houses in past contests, displayed in the school auditorium, many evidencing extraordinary craftsmanship. And I’d always found it inspiring, to be among people striving for excellence--albeit through gingerbread and gumdrops. But I’d never been to the auction, and I always wondered who would actually buy a gingerbread house. And how much would they pay?
So this year I went. Like always, I quibbled with the contest results. Yes, “House on Pooh Corner” was decent, a puppet theater featuring a marzipan drawn curtain, marzipan Pooh and Piglet slumped in the corners. But it did NOT deserve the Grand Prize. That should have been awarded to “Mermaid’s Castle,” a whimsical, Disney-esque chateau filtered through a skilled baker’s vivid imagination: you really wanted to eat that little siren stuck to the castle wall, though she—like all the entries—was built to last, with inedible ingredients. “House on Pooh Corner” was made by the warlock’s daughter, however. And as he is a revered figure in the community, ostensibly with supernatural powers, the contest judges evidently thought it wise to crown the warlock’s offspring for the second year in a row.
The auction would be the great leveler, it seemed to me, and I looked forward to Columbians speaking with their pocketbooks. The auctioneer took the stage, and the houses were sold one by one. When “Mermaid’s Castle” went on the block, the auctioneer said, “This is a work of art and…whew, a whole lot more.” Even rendered in marzipan and set atop a fishtail, a breast is noteworthy in Columbia. It sold for $100. As did “House on Pooh Corner.” Less than the price of the “Ice House”--$125--which really was made of ice and by the time it sold had melted, like a wintry sand mandala, bought for the memory of its excellence.
Afterwards, I walked up to the woman who made “Mermaid’s Castle.” I told her I was sorry that the community valued her mermaid the same as Pooh and Piglet, and less than melted ice. She said she was sorry too. I thought of how much more she’d have gotten in New York. Only no one in the city makes castles out of gingerbread.
I’d seen the houses in past contests, displayed in the school auditorium, many evidencing extraordinary craftsmanship. And I’d always found it inspiring, to be among people striving for excellence--albeit through gingerbread and gumdrops. But I’d never been to the auction, and I always wondered who would actually buy a gingerbread house. And how much would they pay?
So this year I went. Like always, I quibbled with the contest results. Yes, “House on Pooh Corner” was decent, a puppet theater featuring a marzipan drawn curtain, marzipan Pooh and Piglet slumped in the corners. But it did NOT deserve the Grand Prize. That should have been awarded to “Mermaid’s Castle,” a whimsical, Disney-esque chateau filtered through a skilled baker’s vivid imagination: you really wanted to eat that little siren stuck to the castle wall, though she—like all the entries—was built to last, with inedible ingredients. “House on Pooh Corner” was made by the warlock’s daughter, however. And as he is a revered figure in the community, ostensibly with supernatural powers, the contest judges evidently thought it wise to crown the warlock’s offspring for the second year in a row.
The auction would be the great leveler, it seemed to me, and I looked forward to Columbians speaking with their pocketbooks. The auctioneer took the stage, and the houses were sold one by one. When “Mermaid’s Castle” went on the block, the auctioneer said, “This is a work of art and…whew, a whole lot more.” Even rendered in marzipan and set atop a fishtail, a breast is noteworthy in Columbia. It sold for $100. As did “House on Pooh Corner.” Less than the price of the “Ice House”--$125--which really was made of ice and by the time it sold had melted, like a wintry sand mandala, bought for the memory of its excellence.
Afterwards, I walked up to the woman who made “Mermaid’s Castle.” I told her I was sorry that the community valued her mermaid the same as Pooh and Piglet, and less than melted ice. She said she was sorry too. I thought of how much more she’d have gotten in New York. Only no one in the city makes castles out of gingerbread.
