There’s a certain je ne sais quoi about visiting a tourist town during the off-season. Roaming the empty streets, it feels as if the place is yours for the taking. Today, my grandma and I wandered around the village of Lake George for a few hours and it was wonderful.
After spending the weekend in DC and cheesin’ it up with good ol’ honest Abe, I thought I’d do a Google search for “Abe Lincoln food” because I am a curious person who loves food and wonders about weird things like what AL snacked on in the 1800s.
Turns out he told a story during one of his debates that went like this:
The gingerbread story, retold by Carl Sandburg:
“‘When we lived in Indiana,’ he said, ‘once in a while my mother used to get some sorghum [flour] and ginger and make some gingerbread. It wasn’t often, and it was our biggest treat. One day I smelled the gingerbread and came into the house to get my share while it was still hot. My mother had baked me three gingerbread men. I took them out under a hickory tree to eat them. There was a family near us poorer than we were, and their boy came along as I sat down. ‘Abe,’ he said, ‘gimme a man?’ I gave him one. He crammed it into his mouth in two bites and looked at me while I was biting the legs off my first one. ‘Abe,’ he said, ‘timme the onter’n.’ I said to him, ‘You seem to like gingerbread.’ ‘Abe,’ he sais, ‘I don’t s’pose anybody on earth likes gingerbread better’n I do–and gets less’n I do.'”
In short, Abe was the best. And now I want some Gingerbread. 106 days till Christmas! WOOT WOOT.
Spread kindness and cheer, xo