Another night of
tossing and turning had led to the frustration of being wide-awake when I
wanted to sleep. There was no use lying there when even warm milk had not
helped, so I decided to go for a night walk to tire myself out. Leaving the
house, I started my excursion eventually ending up by Maspeth Federal Bank
where I picked up the first wonderful scent drifting and waffling down Grand
Avenue. It was a wondrous smell recalling all the best memories of youth
combined and intertwined in a tempting wave of goodness. Baked cookies, fresh bread
and bacon cooking, all intermingled in a sprightly melody tantalizing the
nostrils and sending me reminiscing to holiday seasons long past. As I was
drawn down the quiet deserted avenue, the scent became stronger eventually
leading me to the exhaust vent of the Glendale Bake Shop. I sniffed and inhaled
the commingling of smells recalling youthful memories and hearing music playing
in my head.
Anyone looking down
from a window would have thought a bear was rooting through the garbage, but I
didn’t care. Looking down from the grating and peering into the bakery from
between slits in the gate I saw two pairs of eyes staring at me. Two little
creatures who were animatedly talking to each other stopped and ran to the
door. I heard the lock turn and the door opened just enough for me to slip in.
Sure enough, the Gingerbread Men were beckoning me to enter after having put
down their candy cane rifles deciding that I was not a danger, but simply a
pastry fan.
Inside it was
bright, quite a contrast to the blackness of a moonless night. The Ginger Bread
Men straightened each other’s bow ties then picked up their candy cane rifles and
resumed their posts as sentries guarding the door. A party was in progress and
cookies were milling about dancing and socializing. Over on the oven bacon
strips danced on the grill like a beach goer on a sweltering day without
sandals while sunny side eggs looked on in amusement and Kaiser rolls split
their sides laughing then lay down on the grill to get a nice tan.
If the vent had smelled
wonderful, this was multiplied many times over in the bakery. A forest of
cinnamon sticks, a grove of cloves, piles of ginger root and whole nutmeg, star
anise hanging down from high above and piles of juicy raisins, dates, and figs along
with dried fruits and citrons all added to the wonderful scented scenario
begging to be eaten. Marzipan pigs and cows danced on top of a creamy white
cake while gingerbread people tidied up their houses to await the opening of
the bakery. Gregarious black and whites coaxed the pfeffernusse and chocolate
drops out of their trays to the main dance floor on the counter. Pretzel rolls
with their salty language argued with the Irish Soda Bread, always spoiling for
a good donnybrook then calming down, the Soda Bread did a jig and a reel.
Easygoing apple turnovers went along with the festivities while apple tarts fancily
decorated in sugary icing flirted with them. Triangular Hamentashen cookies did
a traditional dance and the Linzer Tarts, those spherical powdery treats with a
delicious mouth watering jelly remained stoically regal. Everyone shied away
from the Crullers knowing how twisted they were. Just then, the donuts rolled
in looking a little glazed over after a night on the town. Sprinkle cookies
adorned in their many bright colors associated with the rainbow cookies, which
formed an arch in imitation of the atmospheric light show.
Suddenly the Ginger
Bread Men told me I would have to leave since the baker would be out soon with
the new recruits to ready for the opening. As I exited, all the pastries were
quietly resuming their assigned places in their trays ready to go to sleep. I
was feeling tired myself and anxiously retreated home to resume my slumber.
Jim L
Feb 2020
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