Let’s Talk About These Iced Gingerbread Oatmeal Cookies

Alright, before we get into the weeds, let me just admit: I was late to the iced-gingerbread-oatmeal-Cookies party. Actually, my aunt Barb’s kitchen always smelled like warm cinnamon at Christmas, and every year she’d trot out her molasses-spiced cookies. But if I’m honest—and you want honesty right?—hers never had the oats or the thick, beautiful scribbles of icing. So one day (okay, a blustery Saturday last December), I decided I could jazz things up with a handful of oats and a bit of trial and error. The result? Well, my neighbor ‘borrowed’ three before I even got the chance to do the washing up.

If you’re looking for something a bit cosier than plain gingerbread, and maybe a tad less fussy, this recipe is basically your new BFF in a cookie tin. My dog’s also a fan, but that’s another story, and no, he didn’t eat any—he just likes the smell. Anyway, let’s get into why these cookies are an absolute winner.

Why I Keep Making These

I make this sort of cookie whenever I want the house to actually feel like a hug (or, well, if I need to bribe someone to help me move furniture). My friends go wild for them because they’re soft but slightly chewy, and the icing is—honestly—more like a glorified excuse for extra sugar. And you know those moments when you think, ‘I wish I could just eat dessert for breakfast’? You kinda can, because oats practically make these health food (I mean, sort of, don’t quote me on that).

On the flip side, I have definitely forgotten to chill the dough before, and it does make them v. slightly wonky-shaped. But, hey, rustic vibes.

Stuff You’ll Need (Substitutions Welcome)

1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats (I sometimes swap in quick oats if that’s what’s in the cupboard—it’s fine)
1 cup all-purpose flour (Whole wheat? Works in a pinch, but they get a tad nuttier-flavored)
1/3 cup unsulphured molasses (My gran swore by the blackstrap stuff, but I go lighter—less intense, y’know?)
1/2 cup packed brown sugar (light or dark, won’t judge)
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened (Margarine in a pinch—no shame but real butter wins)
1 large egg
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon (though I go heavy-handed sometimes!)
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
For the icing: 1 cup powdered sugar + splash of milk + tiny drop of vanilla (I usually eyeball the milk—dangerous game, but fun)

Let’s Actually Make ‘Em

Cream together the butter and brown sugar, either with your trusty hand mixer (mine makes this whirring noise that sounds like it’ll take off any minute!) or just a big wooden spoon if you’re feeling nostalgic and strong-wristed.
Add the molasses and egg. Scrape the sides—this bit looks like a science project but stick with me. This is where I tend to sneak a tiny little taste, and yes, I know it’s got raw egg but I’m living on the edge.
In another bowl (or, if you’re like me and hate extra dishes, just shove everything to one side of the first bowl), whisk together flour, oats, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, salt, baking soda. Pour dry stuff into the sticky mixture. Stir until it just comes together—don’t overthink it if you see a streak of flour, it’ll sort itself out.
Now, chill that dough. 30 minutes is nice (you can get away with 10 if you’re truly impatient), but I swear it helps make the cookies less frumpy.
Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Line a baking tray with parchment. Or that wrinkled old silicone mat you’ve got in the cupboard.
Scoop out balls—like a tablespoonish, or let’s be real, whatever size makes you happy—and space them out, because they do spread. King Arthur Baking has a good tip on shaping cookies, but honestly, clumsy works here.
Bake 10-12 minutes until the edges look barely golden, centers still soft. Don’t freak out if they seem underdone—they’ll firm up. Trust the process (it took me several failed batches to believe this…)
Cool on the tray 5 min, then move to a rack.
Mix up the icing: just powdered sugar, a splash of milk, and the vanilla. It should be thick but pourable. If it’s too runny, chuck in more sugar. Drizzle or pipe or—if you’re feeling lazy—just blob it on with a spoon. Serious Eats has fancy tutorials for icing, but honestly, my way is faster (and a bit wonky).
Let icing set (if you can wait) before devouring.

Bits I’ve Learned (Sometimes the Hard Way)

Dry cookies? You probably overbaked. Next time, pull them when they’re soft in the middle—even if you panic about it.
The icing always seems too runny at first. Give it an extra spoonful of sugar, fix done.
I’ve tried fancy cookie cutters with this—nope, just blobs win for texture here.
Oh, and if you double the cinnamon (which I do when I’m in a mood), it does make them darker but the spice is ace.

Stuff I’ve Changed (Some Good, Some…Not)

One time I swapped half the flour for almond meal. Didn’t love it—texture went a little odd.
Added orange zest once—surprised myself, it was bright and very breakfasty. Not bad!
Extra ginger makes them more fiery (which I’m for, but the kids said it was ‘too spicy’… wimps.)
I did try vegan butter once; honestly, not bad at all if that’s your bag.

On Equipment (“You Don’t Need Fancy Stuff”)

Sure, a mixer’s nice, but a big bowl and elbow grease do the trick. I’ve even iced cookies with a zip-top bag snipped at the corner ‘cause my piping bag mysteriously vanished (still blaming the cat). No cooling rack? Just use the back of a muffin tin. Or, you know, eat them warm direct form tray—no judgment at all.

How I Store Them (When They Miraculously Last)

Keep in an airtight tin, and probably on the counter. They’ll go about three days, but honestly, in my house nobody’s resisting longer than 24 hours. If you’re exceptionally self-controlled, they freeze alright (just pop parchment between layers), but I think fresh is king.

How I Serve These (Family Rituals and Oddities)

I set a plate of these out with mugs of hot tea or, on very British days, milky coffee. My niece dips them straight into her cocoa (little cookie daredevil). In summer, I totally let these hang out alongside a scoop of vanilla ice cream—these cookies are more adaptable than I am at 7am.

Some “Don’t Do What I Did” Pro Tips

Once, I skipped chilling the dough because who has patience? Bad move—the cookies sort of exploded into one mega-cookie. Tasty, but bit of a mess.
I tried drizzling the icing before cookies were cool. Regrets. It just disappeared into the cookie abyss.
Don’t swap oat flour for whole oats—makes ‘em dry as cardboard.

The FAQ Bit (Actual Questions, More or Less)

Can I use instant oats? Sure thing. They’ll bake up slightly softer, but honestly, who’s checking?
Is the molasses a must? I mean, pretty much, for that gingerbread kick, but swap in dark honey if you’re totally desperate.
Cookies keep coming out dry—what am I missing? Probably baking too long or too much flour. Or, y’know, maybe the oven runs hot? (Mine’s had a mind of its own for years.)
Can I make these dairy-free? Oh! Yes. Try vegan butter and plant milk for the icing. Turns out alright actually.
Can I freeze the dough? Yup, roll into balls, freeze on a tray, then bag up once solid. Bake from frozen but add a minute or two.
What if I don’t have cloves? Eh, leave them out or add a smidge more cinnamon and ginger. Won’t break the bank, flavor-wise.

So, that about covers it. If you end up with icing all over yourself (and your phone, and, somehow, the dog), just know you’re in good company! If you want more clever cookie ideas, try these soft gingerbread cookies from Sally’s Baking Addiction, which are lovely (but mine wear oats better, ha!).

Now go on—bake, snack, and if you tweak something that works better, let me know. Or if you manage to make these last longer than a day, teach me your ways. Happy baking!

Iced Gingerbread Oatmeal Cookies