AT its best, gingerbread is still regarded as the most Christmassy of treats—decorative domiciles are all the rage at this time of year, instigated by Victorian interest in the fairy tale of Hansel and Gretel. But how did this foodstuff, neither quite biscuit nor fully cake, develop its association with the festive season, long before the notion of creating a gingerbread cottage caught on?
The short answer is that it was expensive. In medieval Europe, the cost of the exotic ingredients from the burgeoning spice trade —including (depending on the recipe) ginger, cinnamon, pepper and saffron—all positioned gingerbread beyond the reach of the everyday consumer, establishing its reputation as an elite and luxurious item. When it became more popularly consumed, it was for a suitably extravagant occasion, such as Christmas. The ‘heat’ of the spices may also have contributed to the baked good being viewed as a warming winter treat.
The impression given off by the gingerbread moulds in the Harrison Collection at Ryedale Folk Museum, on the edge of the North York Moors, is certainly one of decadence and wealth. Their sheer size speaks of opulence and things done on a grand scale. The largest is a pair of spectacular Dutch figures, several feet tall and with intricate carved designs, which would have been further embellished with edible gold leaf and icings. They are a long way from the childish, anthropomorphic figures with raisins or sweets for eyes more readily available today.
This story is from the November 25, 2020 edition of Country Life UK.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber ? Sign In
This story is from the November 25, 2020 edition of Country Life UK.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
Save our family farms
IT Tremains to be seen whether the Government will listen to the more than 20,000 farming people who thronged Whitehall in central London on November 19 to protest against changes to inheritance tax that could destroy countless family farms, but the impact of the good-hearted, sombre crowds was immediate and positive.
A very good dog
THE Spanish Pointer (1766–68) by Stubbs, a landmark painting in that it is the artist’s first depiction of a dog, has only been exhibited once in the 250 years since it was painted.
The great astral sneeze
Aurora Borealis, linked to celestial reindeer, firefoxes and assassinations, is one of Nature's most mesmerising, if fickle displays and has made headlines this year. Harry Pearson finds out why
'What a good boy am I'
We think of them as the stuff of childhood, but nursery rhymes such as Little Jack Horner tell tales of decidedly adult carryings-on, discovers Ian Morton
Forever a chorister
The music-and way of living-of the cabaret performer Kit Hesketh-Harvey was rooted in his upbringing as a cathedral chorister, as his sister, Sarah Sands, discovered after his death
Best of British
In this collection of short (5,000-6,000-word) pen portraits, writes the author, 'I wanted to present a number of \"Great British Commanders\" as individuals; not because I am a devotee of the \"great man, or woman, school of history\", but simply because the task is interesting.' It is, and so are Michael Clarke's choices.
Old habits die hard
Once an antique dealer, always an antique dealer, even well into retirement age, as a crop of interesting sales past and future proves
It takes the biscuit
Biscuit tins, with their whimsical shapes and delightful motifs, spark nostalgic memories of grandmother's sweet tea, but they are a remarkably recent invention. Matthew Dennison pays tribute to the ingenious Victorians who devised them
It's always darkest before the dawn
After witnessing a particularly lacklustre and insipid dawn on a leaden November day, John Lewis-Stempel takes solace in the fleeting appearance of a rare black fox and a kestrel in hot pursuit of a pipistrelle bat
Tarrying in the mulberry shade
On a visit to the Gainsborough Museum in Sudbury, Suffolk, in August, I lost my husband for half an hour and began to get nervous. Fortunately, an attendant had spotted him vanishing under the cloak of the old mulberry tree in the garden.
