Voyage of the Gingerbread Man Acolyte

I have an undue fondness for gingerbread, strange only in cultural hindsight, perfectly sensible when seen through the gravitational and time compaction of five decades of food memories. Gingerbread is not a food of my parents’ house, or my Jewish upbringing, or even events of my childhood. It is more journey than origin or destination, and it turns out, possibly runs deeper than I had expected. Food memories are waypoints in our personal history, amplified by the textures and religious overtones of our Jewish holidays. Potato latkes and jelly donuts for Hanukah bookended with matzah for…