If I had a pound for every time someone walked into my kitchen mid-December and immediately asked, “Are you making those gingerbread crinkle cookies again?,” I’d probably still bake them all myself (but maybe I’d splash for nicer butter). These cookies take me right back to my nan’s house, where you couldn’t swing a cat without hitting a plate of something dusted in icing sugar. She always made these at the end of a baking day—and, honestly, when I make them, the smell alone is worth it. Pro tip? Don’t answer the doorbell when your hands are caked in dough unless you fancy a right mess all over your doorknob.
Why you’ll probably love these (I sure do)
First off, I bake these whenever the weather looks even a little moody. My family goes crackers for them because they’ve got that spicy, deep ginger flavour that just sort of hugs you from the inside. Seriously, these are the only cookies my dad willingly eats that aren’t full of chocolate chips. Oh, and the crinkle effect? It looks all fancy, but honestly (no word of a lie), half the time mine come out with mismatched crags and everyone still snags more than one. You get crackly tops, soft middles, and a kitchen that smells like the best bits of Christmas. Sometimes the dough looks a bit sticky and I curse under my breath, but it always works out (unless you forget they’re in the oven, which has happened. Once…).
Ingredients (and a few swaps I’ve tried)
- 2 cups (250g) plain flour (gingerbread’s forgiving—brown bread flour in a pinch for extra chew. Nan did not approve, but I did!)
- 1 1/2 tsp ground ginger (sometimes I add a smidge more for a kick—experiment and see!)
- 1 tsp cinnamon
- 1/4 tsp ground cloves (if I can’t find it, I just double the cinnamon and call it good)
- Pinch of nutmeg (honestly, a ‘shake’ works fine if you hate measuring)
- 1/2 tsp baking soda
- 1/4 tsp salt
- 1/2 cup (115g) unsalted butter, softened (salted works too; just skip the pinch above)
- 1/2 cup (100g) brown sugar (dark looks fancy, light’s fine, just don’t use granulated; trust me, I tried—too gritty)
- 1/3 cup (80ml) molasses or black treacle (golden syrup in a panic is…okay, I guess. Molasses tastes more wintry to me.)
- 1 large egg (room temp; if you forget, just run it under warm tap water for a minute)
- 1 tsp vanilla extract
- Granulated sugar, for rolling
- Icing sugar, for that classic crinkle dust (but sometimes I leave it off when I don’t want extra mess)
Alright, here’s how I do it (feel free to take a break halfway, tea is important)
- Grab a medium bowl and whisk together the flour, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, baking soda, and salt. I never sieve—who’s got the time? If you like, though, knock yourself out.
- In another bowl—big one, for mixing—beat the butter and brown sugar. You can use a mixer, but sometimes I just whack it with a wooden spoon till it’s light and fluffy, which is a mini workout. Mix in the egg, molasses, and vanilla. It gets gloopy, but that’s normal.
- Gradually add your dry mix into the wet, stirring (slowly, if you don’t want flour up your nose). When it all comes together, you’ll have sticky brown dough. Don’t worry if it looks like wet sand; mine always does at this stage. This is where I usually sneak a taste. No shame.
- Cover that bowl and chill the dough. The official word is “at least 2 hours,” but honestly, overnight is best if you can stand waiting. If I’m rushed, I just stick it in the freezer for 45 mins and hope for the best.
- Now, line a tray with baking paper. Scoop out little bits of dough (about a small walnut, but I’m not fussy) and roll them into balls. If it sticks, flour your hands or use a teensy bit of oil.
- Roll each ball in granulated sugar, then in icing sugar (thicker the coating, bigger the crinkle effect). This part is where my youngest loves to help, mostly because it ends with her eating the sugar off her fingers.
- Space those beauties out on the tray—give ‘em room to spread. Bake at 180°C (350°F) for 10–12 minutes. If you want chewier middles, err on the lower end. Tops should look crackled (or, you know, crinkled), but still a bit soft when you poke ‘em. Don’t overbake. I did once and, mate, they were bricks.
- Let them cool for a few mins on the tray—honestly, they’re too soft to move straightaway—and then shift them (carefully!) to a rack or plate. Or, eat one straight away if you’re a risk taker.
Quick notes I’ve picked up
- I used to bake them right after mixing—not the best. Cookies go flat. Chilling the dough really makes a difference.
- The crinkle’s best if you’re liberal with icing sugar. A light dusting? Looks sad after baking, trust me.
- If you only have dark treacle, cut back a smidge—it can be overpowering. Actually, I find golden syrup + a spoon of molasses is a happy medium when I’m out of proper stuff.
- Sometimes I flatten them with a glass; sometimes I don’t bother. Up to you.
Variations I’ve gone rogue with
- Once, I swapped out the molasses entirely for honey—funny enough, they tasted like gingerbread but lighter. Nice for summer, though not as Christmassy.
- Chopped candied ginger stirred into the dough is lush—adds chew and a bit of zing.
- White chocolate chips? Brilliant most of the time. But once I tried dark chocolate and, hmm, not my thing with all these spices (could be yours though?)
- I saw someone on King Arthur Baking add orange zest—haven’t tried that yet but it’s next on my list.
Equipment (nothing fancy, promise)
- Mixing bowls—if you’re out of clean ones, I’ve used a saucepan before (don’t tell Nan, please)
- Wooden spoon or electric mixer (I’m partial to the old elbow grease but hey, if you’ve got the gear, use it)
- Baking tray
- Baking parchment (if none about, butter and flour the tray in a pinch—bit of a faff, but it’s fine)
- Wire rack, or just turn a grill pan upside-down. True story.
How to store these (as if they’ll last)
In an airtight tin or container, these cookies stay soft for about 4 days—though honestly, in my house, it never lasts more than a day! I did read on Serious Eats that you can freeze the dough balls and bake off straight form the freezer. Works, but you’ll need to add a couple minutes to the bake time.
When and how to serve ’em (my two pence)
Nothing beats these fresh with a cup of strong tea—builders’ brew if I’m feeling trad, Earl Grey if I’m posh. My mate dips them in mulled wine at Christmas parties, which sounds mad until you try it. Family tradition: we always leave a few out for Santa (and, erm, maybe the dog gets a crumb or two, but shh—don’t tell).
What I’ve learned—my not-so-glamorous pro tips
- Don’t skip the chill. I tried it once (because I was ravenous, not gonna lie) and ended up with one giant, sad gingerbread pancake. Impressive for size, but not edible.
- Use more icing sugar than you think—after baking, most disappears, and you want that snowy look.
- On second thought, let them sit a minute or two before moving. They seem delicate, but they set up if you leave them alone for five. Patience is a virtue. Apparently.
FAQ—just in case you’re wondering
- Can I use margarine instead of butter?
- Sure, but the flavor won’t be the same. They’ll hold together though, so if that’s what you’ve got, go for it.
- Help! My dough’s too sticky—what did I do wrong?
- Absolutely nothing, probably. It’s meant to be tacky. If it’s impossible to handle, dust your hands with flour (or let it chill a bit longer). In winter, my kitchen is so cold it firms right up!
- Can I halve the recipe?
- Yeah—though honestly, I never do. I just freeze half the dough, because future me is always glad for the shortcut.
- What if I don’t have molasses?
- Honey or golden syrup can work, but you’ll miss that rich bite. Sometimes I admit I just use brown sugar and extra spices for a shortcut—not perfect, but the smell’s still lovely.
- Do these keep well?
- Depends who’s around! Technically, airtight box for about 4 days… In reality? Barely survive 24 hours here!
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve just realised I’ve got dough chilling in the fridge. Happy baking—let me know if you find a way to stop eating them all in one go!
