Fragrance of Gingerbread

Hot Spiced Gingerbread

WON'T you always remember the time, when as a child you came home from school as hungry as a bear and opened the old stone crock to find a chunk of toothsome gingerbread; or will you ever forget the delightful fragrance of the spicy, soft gingerbread that Mother had for supper on chilly nights? To make these old-time favorites requires but little time and labor, and many pleasing variations of more modern invention may be evolved from them.
American Cookery, Volume 25

The silence was heavy for a moment; then I heard a rattle, and, recognizing the sound that had wakened me, rose and peered through the vines. There on a fencerail sat a kingfisher, chuckling to himself in great glee. I reached over to see him better, and nearly lost my balance; whereupon the
the nature of the distraction—the fragrance of hot gingerbread Lorna was nowhere. I picked up the lines and drove, by scent, a few rods. Then we came out upon the hilltop, and I perceived a small, plain house at my left. The fragrance was becoming deliciously seductive, and, as the big gate was open, I drove into the yard. Then I forgot the gingerbread, and gazed in ecstasy at the expanse of forest and ocean that lay at my feet. It was gloriously clear, and the lighthouse and snowy sails shone vividly against the blue sea, which a trail of smoke from a steamer gave a touch of gray. My meditations were interrupted by a slight cough, and I turned to see the farm wife standing in the doorway—a dull-eyed, pale-faced woman well along in years. “A magnificent view,” I said. “Mighty lonesome,” she replied. I gazed about. There were but half a dozen houses on the hill, and several looked deserted. With my eyes turned from the absorbing view I scented gingerbread again. “I beg pardon, but the fragrance of your gingerbread is what drew me here.” The ghost of a smile came over her face. “It’s cookies,” she Said. “So much the better. May I have some?” She brought a plateful of big, soft, warm cakes, and I devoured them recklessly while my hostess looked on in gentle appreciation. “Would you like a drink?” she asked, and I followed her to where the well buckets hung from the roof of the shed. What a well that was ! Down, down, down, into the darkness went the bucket, and came up full of the clearest, coldest water I ever drank. It was more thoroughly cold than ice water, and many times more refreshing. I remembered Jonah, and offered him a luncheon. He daintily accepted one cookie, but refused to drink. I was astonished. “Some horses don't like it so cold,” said my hostess, so I climbed into my buggy and dropped a silver piece into her hand. She began a protest, but I called back: “Buy something to remember me by. I shall never forget the view, the well, and the cookies.” 
The Epworth Herald, Volume 14

There was great crowding, and generally the weather was rainy; but it did not destroy the fragrance of the honey-cakes and the gingerbread, of which there was a booth quite full; and the best of it was, that the man who kept this booth came every year to lodge during the fair-time in the dwelling of little Knud's father. Consequently there came a present of a bit of gingerbread every now and then, and of course Joanna received her share of the gift. But perhaps the most charming thing of all was that the gingerbread dealer knew all sorts of tales, and could even relate histories about his own gingerbread cakes; and one evening, in particular, he told a story about them which made such a deep impression on the children that they never forgot it; and for that reason it is perhaps advisable that we should hear it too, more especially as the story is not long.
"On the shop-board," he said, "lay two gingerbread cakes, one in the shape of a man with a hat, the other of a maiden without a bonnet; both their faces were on the side that was uppermost, for they were to be looked at on that side, and not on the other; and, indeed, most people have a favorable side from which they should be viewed. On the left side the man wore a bitter almond — that was his heart; but the maiden, on the other hand, was honey-cake all over. They were placed as samples on the shop-board, and remaining there a long time, at last they fell in love with one another, but neither told the other, as they should have done if they had expected anything to come of it.
Stories and Tales
 By Hans Christian Andersen

It was wonderful gingerbread, thick, lightly porous, stickily glistening on top and fragrant with an appetizing fragrance. Orlando Biddlebury was passionately fond of it, so fond of it that every day the enticing odor of freshly baked gingerbread permeated the house. He liked it best when fresh, and that may have been why he ate all there was every day. He was sure, then, to have it fresh the next day.
The Green Book Magazine, Volumes 21-22

"Yes, yes," interrupted the old lady, nodding; "I made the hood, and the tippet. I am Kriss Kringle's own sister. I love children just as well as he does, and I help make the gifts. I do the knitting, and I make all the candy, and the gingerbread. Just sit down here in my chair, and I'll give you a taste of my peppermint candy and gingerbread."
So Kitty sat down in her great, cushiony chair, and Miss Kringle tripped to her tall, red cupboard, and brought her three sticks of peppermint candy, in a queer, blue cup, and a great slice of fragrant gingerbread on a- pink, scalloped plate.
"Isn't it delicious?" she asked, watching Kitty while she ate it. But she didn't wait for an answer, for she knew very well what Kitty thought, because her eyes sparkled so.
The Little Corporal, Volumes 8-10
 By Emily Huntington Miller

DONNING a new lavender necktie and white vest, "on a fine, hot day in September," garments especially unsuited to the nature of my quest, I started out to learn just how stoves and heaters are made, for these are now the representatives of our fathers' hearth-stones and are the firesides of today. This was a desire long entertained and often revived whenever I recalled my boyhood visits at grandmother's. The pride and solicitude with which she cared for and regarded the brick hearth and new stove are associated with boyish memories that still have an enduring charm. What pleasant recollections they are—
of rich, brown-crusted, new-made loaves; light pie crust, aromatic gingerbread, pies of peach, squash, custard, cranberry, rhubarb and mince, with savory pots of beans, and steaming brown bread! When she smiled benevolently at one of "her boys," with a new ginger cooky fresh from the oven in hand, ah, what delicious memories arise! It always makes me hungry to think about it. To me, as to the peoples of ancient days, there cluster no more romantic memories than around the kitchen hearth. In the complex religion of the Romans it was believed that their Lares and Penates, the tutelary and household gods, -were domiciled on the hearthstone, and hence it became a venerated spot. 
National Magazine, Volume 29

The rose-brown mists of the May twilight lay entangled in the rose-brown boughs of budding elm and oak trees massed against the sky. A bird sang; a dog barked; a clear star was visible through the mists. He saw his favorite terrier cross the lawn in the direction of the stables, ears and tail erect. Oh life-—release, how wonderful, how much to be desired. Hark! his mother was beginning to play the piano, she sang softly. There was the smell of gingerbread coming from the kitchen. Gingerbread! How much he loved it! They were going to have gingerbread for supper.
The Touchstone, Volume 6
 By Mary Fanton Roberts