This weekend I pulled out an old cookie cutter from my repertoire (yes, that really is a pig-shaped cookie!) and it’s existence reminded me of a funny Foodie story.
Years ago, when I was 18 and had first moved out on my own, I was living with my then-boyfriend and 2 other couples in a shared townhouse. It was Christmastime and neither of us was able to make it home for the holidays. I’d decided (in my overly ambitious way) to try and concoct something similar to a holiday celebration at our house, instead. Out came the stuffing, cranberry and fudge recipes, and of course, the coveted gingerbread.
Because it was both my first holiday and home away from home, I barely owned any decent cooking or baking materials. Heading to the mall to pick up a few things, I decided I would splurge (I was flat broke) and buy a nice gingerbread man cutter to really make the cookies special. Well, it turned out that trying to find a gingerbread man cutter 2 days before Christmas was damn near impossible. All sign of cutters bearing even the vaguest resemblance to holiday shapes were long gone at that point, and all that was left were a few miscellaneous letters and some assorted farm animals.
To this day I have no idea what possessed me to buy that pig-shaped cutter, but I did. If I had to guess, I probably just didn’t want to go home empty-handed after all of that hassle. When I finally got home I baked and iced close to 12 dozen dainty gingerpigs, happy that I had one (somewhat deformed) thing to remind me of the holidays at hand.
On Christmas eve, the then-boyfriend and I both arrived home from our shit-ass part time jobs around 9:30pm, starving for any form of sustenance. We scraped together enough money to order a pizza, and eagerly awaited our steaming Christmas pie. When the delivery man finally showed up, the snow was swirling wildly and it was almost 11pm. The date and time alone made me feel like such a tool. But then, when the then-boyfriend went to pay for our dinner, he realized that our pooled cash didn’t leave enough to give the man a tip. With a burst of inspiration, I quickly scooped up a dozen gingerpigs, stuffed them into a paper bag and handed them over to the delivery person.
As soon as I saw the look on his face, I knew I should’ve left well enough alone. Whoever said that it’s the thought that counts certainly wasn’t a pizza delivery person, because he all but sneered at us as he left, and I’m pretty sure he chucked the bag in our neighbour’s bushes on the way out.
That strange and pathetic series of events has kept me from using that cutter again on several occasions. I do enjoy making pig-shaped cookies when I’m planning on giving them to vegetarians, just because it’s such a delicious irony. This past weekend I found the cutter as I was digging through a kitchen junk drawer and decided to use it on a recipe I was testing. The cocoa nib, fleur de sel and pink peppercorn chocolate shortbread was gourmet and abundantly decadent, so I thought the pigs would be kind of fitting. I’m calling the above cookies black hooflets, because not only are they black, but they’re also shaped like tiny little pigs. Incidentally, they’re also delicious!
They’re cute, aren’t they?
Until next time…
cute–Cute–CUTE! Plus there is a old-time breed called the black pig.
Larbo,
Even funnier still… half a block from my house is a charcuterie restaurant called the Black Hoof, which is named after those pata negra pigs, I think.
I occasionally chat with the owner (who runs the Charcuterie Sundays website) so I sent him a snapshot of these cookies for a laugh on the weekend.
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