“You know, it looks like a gingerbread house,” my Uber driver says as we wind through the forest-lined roads toward the Omni Grove Park Inn & Spa in Asheville, North Carolina. I’ve heard the hotel is otherworldly—an idyllic mountain escape since it opened in 1913. He doesn’t believe me when I tell him the hotel is my destination for the National Gingerbread House Competition, an event the idyllic hotel has been hosting since 1992.
As we approach the grand entrance, warm, amber light glows from within. The rust-colored roof drapes low, mimicking thatch as it hangs over a facade of rough-hewn granite stones hoisted from nearby Sunset Mountain. Massive stone chimneys flank the structure, and the icing-like roofline overhangs like the top of a gingerbread house.
Inside, the lobby sparkles with Christmas decor. Wreaths hang above flickering fireplaces at each end, and at the center sits a life-sized gingerbread house strung with lights, serving three kinds of hot cocoa, including a gingerbread flavor topped with whipped cream and spiced cookie crumble. Leather couches and craftsman rocking chairs—deeply North Carolinian touches—dot the room.
Omni Grove Park Inn & Spa
Contestants begin gliding their creations in on rolling carts toward the conference room. Outside the entrance, a “gingerbread house triage” area offers space for final repairs, where nervous hands steady fragile structures against last-minute cracks or shifts. The room buzzes, running on the same anticipatory joy of the days leading up to Christmas, but Thanksgiving is still only a week away.
As entries are put in place, I walk through the room, moving from candy-flecked children’s creations to elaborate professional showpieces. Last year’s event was canceled due to Hurricane Helene, but this year there are a record 235 entries—including many first-timers. The air is thick with sugar as I read artists’ statements outlining ingredients, their sources of inspiration, and hours (sometimes hundreds of them) poured into each piece.
Some entries push well beyond a true “house,” taking the form of sculptural scenes: animals, still-life, objects, and even fantastical creatures—it’s a type of craftsmanship that rivals cake-decorating shows I’ve only seen on TV. One standout, for instance, is a fire-breathing dragon perched atop a storybook dusted with edible gold, its scales made from fine-cut gingerbread tiles.
Omni Grove Park Inn & Spa
And while holiday music hums softly, it becomes clear that this competition—despite the saturation of candy—runs on rigor. After just one day, I form opinions about what separates the good from the extraordinary. Some entrants use melted hard candy for stained-glass windows; others use gelatin sheets that resemble weathered, beveled panes. Some rely heavily on fondant sculpting; others celebrate the texture, color, and architectural limits of gingerbread itself. One year, the winning gingerbread house was a ship, its sail suspended by bovine surgical twine—technically edible, but testing the limits.
During a short Q&A, the judges—chef and cookbook author Yolanda Gampp; John Cook, executive pastry chef at the Grove Park Inn; pastry chef Steven Stellingwerf; Jae Park, sous chef at the Inn; and Ashleigh Shanti, chef-owner of Good Hot Fish and James Beard Award winner—offer a peek into their two-day deliberation process.
Just to have the nerve, the drive, and the patience to create a piece like this and drive it all the way here—it takes a lot of guts.
Judges will examine each piece with flashlights, rulers, and small drills to ensure that the entry meets important qualifying criteria. All entries must be 100% edible and at least 75% gingerbread, but they must not exceed a 24-square-inch platform base. One year’s winner lost their spot to the runner-up because their house did not fit in the winning display case. Qualifying factors aside, judges will also consider overall appearance, precision, difficulty level, general creativity, and commitment to a theme.
“This is serious,” Judge Gampp says. “Just to have the nerve, the drive, and the patience to create a piece like this and drive it all the way here—it takes a lot of guts. Especially in the adult category. The competition is stiff.”
Omni Grove Park Inn & Spa
In sharp contrast to the quiet intensity of judging, the awards ceremony is over-the-top exuberant and almost theatrical. Everyone is dressed to the nines in sequins, glitter, and velvet reds and greens. Special awards celebrating innovation and creativity are my favorite, highlighting quirky details like “Most Unique Ingredient” (basil adorning a Lord of the Rings Hobbiton scene) and “Best Use of Sprinkles” (an elaborate mosaic of grass depicting the Masters golf green).
As top-ten category prizes are announced, winners approach their pieces at the front of the room and high-five giddily. Emotions run high as a mother and daughter bring home awards in their respective categories: youth and adult. Outside, a few hopeful contestants shed quiet tears.
The Grand Prize Winner is May Hulsman of nearby Concord, NC, for “The Tiny Gnome Builders.” All eyes turn to her piece, a whimsical depiction of a gnome village under construction. The magic is in extremely fine details: tiny hand-carved birds perch atop the crests of delightfully askew roofs and awnings, flower pots overflow with potting soil, and gnomes toil, proud and grinning, over their blueprint plans—not unlike the contestants in the competition.
Omni Grove Park Inn & Spa
I spoke with Judge Gampp after the ceremony, eager to understand what set the winning piece apart—especially given how many exceptional ones were in the running.
“Her [Hulsman’s] piece is phenomenal because no matter how you look at it, it tells a story—back, front, side, above,” she says. “She used different techniques in every part. Even though there were five huts, the shingles were different, the siding was different, the steps were different. The gnomes were all doing different things.” And then after a thoughtful pause, Gampp says something that sticks with me—I can tell she is reflecting on the difficulty of the decision. “When everything is so well-done, we have to get to the nitty-gritty of why one is better than another.”
Walking back to my room, I feel grateful to have witnessed so many masters of their craft—young, old, first-time entrants, and seasoned veterans—so deeply committed to “the well-done.” I saw things I didn’t know were possible with gingerbread, and I leave with the feeling that anything is possible.
Near my hallway, the 2023 winner rotates quietly behind glass. I stop to watch. The gentle turn makes every detail catch the light in its own moment. Perhaps it’s the power of communal creativity—or maybe just a sugar rush—but for a moment it feels as if I’m turning with it—not swept away, just reminded that care, however small or sweet, leaves a lasting glow.