The Colonel’s Favorite Gingerbread House Recipe

Gingerbread Ingredients:

½ cup, or seven sticks, butter. Microwave until soft, then suck until hard.

½ cup dark brown sugar. Should be dark enough that it might be mistaken for a criminal if it were to stroll harmlessly down the street in Ferguson, Missouri.

3 cups corn syrup—I don’t actually know what corn syrup is but I’m pretty sure you can just pour maple syrup on candy corn and achieve the exact same results. Go for it.

1 cup molasses, mixed with 1 cup Mo’s lasses.

1 cup apologies to Mo.

Ground cinnamon. Just pour it all on the ground and scoop out two teaspoons. Really gets that flavor of home into the mix. Mm. Home tastes like dog hair and dead skin cells.

Ground ginger. If you don’t have any redheaded friends, strawberry blondes will suffice.

Baking soda. Coca-Cola preferred, but Pepsi will work in a pinch.

1 teaspoon cardamom. Oh, you don’t keep cardamom on hand? What are you, some kind of baking heathen? Why did you even start reading this recipe? You probably don’t even know what an oven is.

1 teaspoon Carla’s-mom. Mmm. That’s the stuff.

½ cup solid vegetable shortening.

½ cup liquid vegetable shortening.

½ cup gaseous vegetable shortening.

30 hummingbird eggs, or 1 ostrich egg (unfertilized).

67 cups all-purpose flour. And I do mean all purpose, winky face.

Dihydrogen monoxide. Extremely rare ingredient. You may have to order this from a specialty shop or from the baking side of amazon or something.

Decoration Ingredients:

Melted white chocolate. Used for cementing the sides together. If no white chocolate is available, grout is a great substitute.

For the roof, really really tiny shingles. Chicken pox also will suffice.

Various candies and hardware found around the house (M&Ms, stale marshmallows, whatever the fuck the dog’s been eating out of the couch, loose change, nuts and bolts, those broken buttons from when you got your sweater caught in the combo-automatic-cheese-grater-and-paper-shredder and there was that whole “incident,” etc.).


  • Google what an “oven” is, you ignorant fuck. Then go and preheat yours to the least common multiple of your age, your mom’s age, and your street address (Fahrenheit).
  • Mix all dry ingredients (spices, flour, butter) in a medium bowl, then set aside.
  • Whisk egg(s) using Poseidon’s very trident for maximum Delicious Moisture.
  • Mix all wet ingredients (especially Carla’s mom) in a large bowl, then combine with whisked egg mixture (shells included and ground to a fine powder) and dry mix. Oh, what’s that, you ran out of room? Maybe you should have poured it into the larger bowl instead of the medium one, asshat. It’s like you’re not even trying. Like, I can only do so much for you.
  • Forget that you didn’t put on the perfect Baking Playlist you made earlier and throw up your hands in despair before giving up and just flipping the radio on.
  • Pour gingerbread mixture into house-shaped pans (the ones that make a 1:1 scale model of your house, that you keep folded up in the attic for some reason) and bake until they look done-ish.
  • Use white chocolate or grout to cement sides together—yes, you have to let the walls and roof cool first. Did you seriously just ask me that?
  • To get in the true University of Kentucky spirit, add a few of the decorations that you prepared for your gingerbread architectural masterpiece, then put up dozens of orange fences and roadblocks and then leave the whole thing there for, at minimum, thirty-seven years, adding a new decoration (e.g. singular M&M, half a penny, etc.) every month or so to give the impression of progress.


Happy holidays, motherfuckers.

By Colonel Culinary Consultant Rosie Summers

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s