Gumdrop decor

Phoenix resident's gingerbread classes are a much-loved Christmastime tradition

December 11, 2013|By Kit Waskom Pollard, For The Baltimore Sun

Disney World is fine, but at Christmastime it's Maria Springer's home that is the happiest place on earth.

Throughout the month of December, Springer hosts gingerbread-decorating workshops in her lovely Phoenix home. Her kitchen — transformed into a veritable Candyland with bowls and bowls of gumdrops, M&Ms and Hershey's kisses — is the stuff of kids' dreams.

Each Saturday and Sunday leading up to Christmas, about 15 children, from toddlers to middle-schoolers, all dressed in their holiday best, descend on Springer's home. After a short-story session by the fireplace in the living room, the children — each with one parent or grandparent — file into the kitchen, eyes wide, overwhelmed by the bowls of candy. The island and a nearby table hold one gingerbread house and one icing-filled pastry bag for each child. Houses that are fully constructed from graham crackers and royal icing, but otherwise unadorned, are ready for decoration.

Ten-year olds Annie Grothmann and Holly Becker, both fifth-graders at Immaculate Conception School in Towson, have taken Springer's workshop together every year since they were in kindergarten. This year, they've come prepared with decoration strategies gleaned from Google and years of decorating experience.

"I like making my houses different every time," says Annie, as she carefully covers her roof with an impressive modern design of pretzel sticks and marshmallows. Holly nods in agreement as she adorns her house with candy canes and a green Christmas tree made with M&Ms.

As veteran decorators, Annie and Holly need little guidance, though their moms, Terry Grothmann and Blandy Becker, both of Towson, chime in occasionally with compliments. Becker's younger children, 5-year old Brynn and 9-year old Owen, as gingerbread-house newbies, ask for more help, especially with the frosting.

Overseeing the whole process, Springer chimes in with advice, her lilting European accent charming both parents and students. "It needs to be filled up!" she laughs, encouraging 7-year old Grayson Kennedy of Stoneleigh to pile more candy on a sparsely decorated roof panel. He obliges, gathering more M&Ms and pretzels for the roof, while Springer shows him how to make a light post out of a candy cane and gumdrop.

Springer has been hosting the gingerbread classes in her home since the early 1990s. Encouraged by friends, who knew of the houses she made with her son, Charlie, and his friends when they were boys in the '80s, her classes quickly became hot tickets in December. These days, based on word of mouth alone, they often fill up before Thanksgiving.

Springer was born into a culinary family in a small city in Croatia. Her paternal grandfather was a butcher and maternal great-grandfather was a pastry chef. Springer learned to cook from her mother's mother; she credits her grandmother with her love of the kitchen.

During and after World War II, her family lived in Austria; they emigrated to the United States in 1951, when Springer was still a young girl.

Like Springer, gingerbread houses have roots in central Europe. Gingerbread itself dates back to the 11th century, though gingerbread houses are slightly more modern invention. The houses were popularized by the Brothers Grimm fairy tale "Hansel and Gretel," published in 1812, in which the title characters discover a gingerbread cottage inhabited by a wicked witch.

In Springer's kitchen, house decoration never veers into dark fairy tale territory. During decorating, the noise level waxes and wanes as the kids focus on their houses. It never stays quiet for too long, though, especially not when "The Candy Man," Maria's jovial husband, Dale, makes an appearance, chatting up the children and grabbing a few pieces of candy as a snack. "One for the house, one for the mouth," he roars — a guideline the pint-sized decorators readily embrace.

After about an hour and a half of decorating ("It's all they can handle," Springer says with a laugh) the children and their parents make their way to her basement, down a curved set of red-carpeted steps, past a Santa tapestry on the wall. Downstairs, lit candles illuminate several dozen gingerbread houses, mostly made by Charlie Springer and lovingly preserved by his mother.

In the candlelight, the houses glow. "It's a beautiful wonderland," enthuses Terry Grothmann. She's not exaggerating. "It's magical."

In the basement, Springer serves tea for the parents and hot chocolate for the children, along with fruit and tea sandwiches — and a gentle etiquette lesson. "I'm always giving instructions," she notes with a laugh. Parents appreciate Springer's focus on simple, in-the-moment lessons like holding teacups still and walking slowly — and the children are so enthralled with the environment that they don't even mind the educational aspect of the afternoon.

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