Gingerbread dreams have been haunting me for the last month. Haunting may be too severe a word, but nonetheless, construction techniques occupy my mind nightly.
Last summer when developing our Modern Times – Kids Only! classes, Cecille expressed her dream to have children make miniature Neill-Cochran Houses from gingerbread. Excited about expanding our youth program, I never imagined that this project would be such a large undertaking. The last time I made a gingerbread house I was sporting an oversized sweatshirt with stretch pants and two – yes two — sets of socks, each a different color. I was one stylin’ second grader who was, needless to say, oblivious to the work behind the project.
For the Gingerbread House-Raising at the Neill-Cochran House Museum, the first challenge was baking mass quantities of walls, roofs, and chimneys. There was just no way, with our holiday event schedule that we could accomplish that, so we approached the Austin Art Institute Culinary Program Director Andrea Alexander for help. Luckily, the school was preparing for an open house, and baking our infrastructures gave the students a task on which to focus while they were being observed by prospective applicants. With a fleet of volunteers, we constructed 16 houses, leaving only the chimneys for the kids to attach and the walls to be decorated.
On November 14th 17 eager children, ages 6 -11, filled the Meeting Room at the NCHM to learn about Greek Revival architecture and decorate their individual houses with what-seemed like an endless supply of candy. After completing their own homes, the children rolled out dough for the walls of the Neill-Cochran House replica and cut “limestone” from pina colada licorice. This beginning of the Gingerbread Neill-Cochran House was fueled by pure youthful excitement. This day, though exhausting, would not be the greatest challenge. The road ahead of us would be far more difficult because our new focus was not quantity but detail. To finish the gingerbread model of the Neill-Cochran House, we had to be creative, precise, and resourceful. These qualities are all well represented in our volunteers and stalwart supporters.
The template for the mini-museum was larger and more complicated than that for the children’s houses. For this we turned to a gingerbread-house expert Tom Neuhaus, the founding partner of Sweetish Hill Bakery in Austin, now a science professor in California. The next challenge was locating an available oven large enough to bake the gingerbread walls that were 16 by 24 inches. Despite a hectic holiday schedule, Joe Cook of Joe Cooks! Catering rose to the challenge, offering up his kitchen to Cecille for six hours.
Gingerbread NCHM in the French Parlor at Champagn & Carols
The assembly process itself was truly symphonic, with everyone contributing ideas, picking up where others left off, and really focusing on making the best (and most accurate) gingerbread replica possible that even included our museum cat Olive. With the children’s cut candy stone and the walls, we were ready for the “glue” and the “snow.” Thursday docent Gale Webb really dived into the project, whipping up 30 quarts of royal icing and perfecting the butterscotch-candy antique glass for the windows. Renee Sutton, Abby Webber, and Karen and Alex Pope stepped in with supplies at a moment’s notice and assisted with repairs.
Like any project, this one was not without problems. Down to the last column, the house challenged us with surprises – walls that wouldn’t stand, icing too thin to solidify properly, broken candy canes, and countless others. Each and every day, something happened that could have brought the project to a halt. But somehow – I believe it was a combination of volunteer dedication and holiday magic – we finished it in time for Champagne & Carols.
As for me, part of my youthful naivety about gingerbread house production is gone. I now know how much work my teachers and parents put in to create the houses I so gleefully decorated. (I am in the process of writing belated thank you letters.) My belief in the positive side of human nature was strengthened, though, after witnessing the dedication of everyone who participated in the project. I am proud to be associated with such an amazing feat of teamwork and would like to thank everyone for their contributions – dollars, manual dexterity, and patience!
For all of us, the Gingerbread House-Raising had a happy ending. The candy-covered mini-Neill-Cochran House – gingerly – was moved to Austin’s Helping Hands Home for Children on December 17th so that the residences of that amazing program and the staff and visitors could enjoy it. Acting director Margaret May accepted it and gave the House pride of place in the lobby by the Christmas tree; a tour of the facility left no question that the House had found its rightful home.
And my dreams? Well, this winter and spring bring more programs and events. Perhaps it’s time to start dreaming of Abner Cook’s birthday cake!
A Tiny Giant Walked Among Us
Going out with Jean Andrews was like going out with the governor: From the Silk Road to the mountains of Costa Rica to the capital of Texas, she seemed to know everyone, and everyone seemed to know her. You could always find her in a crowd despite her diminutive physique because all present remembered where they had last seen her. If she invited you to a benefit, you quickly learned that you would be sitting at the VIP table because, although she had failed to mention this herself, Jean was the major donor.
I met her for the first time when Kat Helmle, her assistant of over 20 years, rented the NCHM for an art sale benefitting Jean’s foundation. Having worked at the museum only several weeks, I expected a modest turnout and a few paintings. Instead, there was a stampede to purchase a body of work that ranged from art school to the present and comprised oils, botanical prints, and books. I ran into friends of my own I hadn’t seen in years who happened to be groupies of Dr. Jean. There were stacks of early Conte crayon life drawings I couldn’t resist buying that were just as lovely and lyrical as anything she ever did. The talent, focused late in life, was innate.
Members of our Friends of the Neill-Cochran House Museum community are accomplished in their fields; Jean was a master of many. From Kingsville, Texas, Jean Andrews attended the University of Texas at Austin where she studied fashion design and earned a B.S. in home economics – now human ecology. She earned a master’s in education from Texas A&I (now A&M Kingsville) and a PhD in art from the University of North Texas — the first awarded in that department. She was also the first woman to be named to the Hall of Honor in the College of Natural Sciences at U.T. and also received the Distinguished Alumna Awards from both U.T. Austin and North Texas.
Jean collected folk art and textiles from all over the world, along with seashells; she wrote about them and painted them. Her book jackets announced, “Written and Illustrated by Jean Andrews.” All of them – and it’s quite a list:
One of her final acts of generosity was directed toward the museum. Shortly before her death in January, she and Kat
invited us to discuss a bequest to the Neill-Cochran House. She had always supported the museum with her presence — even when she couldn’t hear what was going on that well. (If she misheard something, she laughed at herself to make you comfortable.) She was one of fifty founding members of the Friends of the NCHM with a generous contribution, In addition to her museum bequest, Dr. Andrews endowed visiting university lectureships, scholarships, and two faculty fellowships.
Known as the Pepper Lady (a moniker she actually trademarked) for her pioneering work on the Capsicum, Jean’s life had a sadder side. She was frank about the serious difficulties that included losing her daughter Jinxy at fourteen. These travails postponed her many accomplishments and global travels but they never made her bitter; they made her generous. Zipping around in her little peppery car or one-on-one, she was funny and salty, gracious and giving, courageous and intrepid. There was no one like Jean — a tiny person who leaves a huge hole in the world. First and last, she was a Friend.