Gingerbread Quandary

The holiday season is trimmed with indecision. Sale prices, store inventory, and frantic mobs paralyze me into procrastinated holiday shopping. Happiness only narrowly outweighs the holiday debacle that is shopping.

These sentiments were epitomized by my recent grocery shopping trip where I was frozen by two Pepperidge Farm cookie options: one, the year-round Ginger Man or two, the seasonal Ginger Family.

On one hand, the Ginger Man is year-round and, thus, consistently delicious. But to that end, he is familiarly predictable. He is crispy with a powerful bite of snapping ginger, and his face shines with crystallized sugar. Though he is slightly amorphous, his shape is undeniably recognizable as cookie decadence. He is an old, trusted companion, but I was tempted by another.

The Ginger Family is seasonal and, thus, annually exotic. But were they too chewy? Were they too thick? Like all new things, the Family was loaded with both potential flavor and potential disappointment. The distinguishable characters were lovable and sweet. The father's combed hair showed he was well-respected in their gingerbread community. The mother's humble apron showed home cooking was waiting just inside her edible house. And of course, the two children played, hands baked together in solidarity and love.

Both offered something magical and comforting. This wasn't a simple gingerbread quandary; this was an option that would stick with me, shaping the taste of my dessert for days to come.

But in rebellion to the overbearing indecision and consumerism of the season, I did what every overweight, cookie lover would do: I bought both.