Gingerbread Zombies

So I missed Halloween by a little… When isn’t the right time for edible zombies, is my question?

The recipe calls for an intricate, fussy pattern produced by a rolling pin then cut into squares. The whole book is a little fussy if you ask me.

Gingerbread is acceptable in two forms: God’s own form is of course the simple, slightly chewy blocks of pleasure from Grasmere. That heavenly scent – spice and butter – wafting over the mountains and calling like a siren to any unwary rambler. But short of that it must be in the shape of a man, or in this case a former man, reanimated by dark forces to be a delicious allegory for consumerism and oblivious modern society.

The spice mix here is phenomenal. The little bit of cocoa really brings it all together and I wouldn’t change the proportions a single gram. These really are a traditional, mass produced gingerbread, but in its best possible incarnation. My own tastes would make it a little chewy in the middle, ala the Grasmere version, or a little softer perhaps… More butter or baking powder.

The glaze at the end adds nothing other than an appealing shine. Could easily omit it.

But really I’m nitpicking… These are tasty and moreish.

Oh, there is another problem I have with the recipe, and the book as a whole… Providing metric measurements for dry ingredients in millilitres is wholly unhelpful to everyone.

(Please note, there is a secret third and forth form of gingerbread that is acceptable, and that is the flower and heart, respectively. These forms are key when the zombie shapes are getting awkward and you need to cut the shapes into the dough more efficiently.)

From Tartine