Soft gingerbread cookies sandwiched with a dreamy eggnog filling made with marshmallow creme, nutmeg, and dark rum. Holiday magic in a bite.

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Planning to try this recipe soon? Pin it for a quick find later!

< Remember it later! >

Planning to try this recipe soon? Pin it for a quick find later!

So, I was having one of those days last December—the kind where you’re cold to the bone, your to-do list is laughing at you, and your holiday spirit is about one carol away from giving up. It was dark at 4:30 p.m. (thanks, winter), and I was stress-scrolling through cookie recipes, trying to find something festive that didn’t involve a cookie cutter, a chill time, or an ounce of patience.

And then it hit me: gingerbread whoopie pies. I remembered seeing them once in a magazine at a dentist’s office—years ago, before phones had decent cameras and you could just snap a pic of the recipe and go. I couldn’t find that exact version (obviously), so I just winged it. I took the base of a gingerbread cake I’d made once for a church potluck and mashed it together with my go-to marshmallow filling. Tossed in a little rum because… December.

And you know what? They were ugly. Some were lopsided. One had no top because I lost count and ate it warm. But when I bit into that soft, spiced cookie and the filling squished just slightly out the sides? It felt like the holidays had arrived. Not perfectly. But warmly. And that was enough.

Why You’ll Love This Gingerbread Whoopie Pies Recipe?

Look, I know gingerbread isn’t everyone’s thing. Some people want chocolate, others want peppermint bark that cuts the roof of your mouth. But these gingerbread whoopie pies? They’re the kind of dessert that sneak up on you.

They’re soft. Like, cupcake-soft. The kind of soft where you break one in half and it sighs as it settles. The gingerbread flavor is warm, not sharp—thanks to a good balance of cinnamon, nutmeg, and molasses that doesn’t punch you in the face like a gingerbread man from a tin might.

Then there’s the filling. Let’s talk about the filling. It’s like eggnog grew up and got fun at a holiday party. It’s got marshmallow fluff, butter, nutmeg, and just enough dark rum to make your aunt do a little “mmm” after the first bite. Is it technically a whoopie pie? I dunno. But it’s two cookies with filling, so it passes.

Ingredient Notes:

Let me walk you through the lineup. Nothing weird. Nothing you can’t swap. I mean, have I used margarine instead of butter before? Yep. Did it still work? Absolutely.

All-purpose flour – Just the regular kind. You don’t need anything fancy. Bread flour? Nah. Cake flour? Too soft.
Ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg – The ginger brings the spice, the cinnamon brings the warmth, and the nutmeg? It’s that soft little background note that makes it feel like December.
Baking soda – No need to overthink this one. Just makes ’em puff a bit.
Salt – Without it, everything tastes flat. Don’t skip it.
Brown sugar – You want that molasses vibe and a little extra moisture. I’ve used light brown and dark brown, and honestly? I couldn’t tell the difference.
Butter – Unsalted. Soft. If you forgot to leave it out, microwave it for a few seconds—but not too long or it gets weird.
Egg + vanilla – You know the drill. Nothing new here.
Sour cream – I used full-fat. Could you use Greek yogurt? Probably. But sour cream makes the crumb so tender it’s kind of ridiculous.
Molasses – Use the unsulphured kind. Don’t use blackstrap unless you really like bitter.
Vegetable oil – Just a bit. It helps make everything smooth and moist. I once used canola. It didn’t rebel.

For the filling:

Butter + shortening – I use both. The butter brings flavor, the shortening helps it hold shape. Could you skip the shortening? Sure. It’ll be softer.
Marshmallow creme – That sticky fluff in a jar. You can’t really replace it. Don’t try to DIY it unless you want an existential crisis.
Rum – Optional. Unless you’re me.
Nutmeg – A sprinkle. It’s the eggnog essence.
Powdered sugar – Sift it if you care about lumps. Or don’t. I’ve done both.

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How To Make Gingerbread Whoopie Pies?

This is not a precision bake. You don’t need a ruler. Just a spoon, a bowl, and a little patience. (But not much.)

Preheat your oven.
350°F. Line your baking sheets with parchment. I’ve used silicone mats, too. Use what you’ve got.
Mix the dry ingredients.
Flour, ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, baking soda, salt. Give it a good whisk. You’ll want to smell it—don’t skip that part. It’s half the fun.
Cream the butter and sugar.
Use a mixer if you’ve got it. Or just go old-school with a wooden spoon and some elbow grease. Cream until it looks fluffy-ish. Add the egg and vanilla and beat it again.
Combine the wet stuff.
In a measuring cup, whisk together sour cream, molasses, and oil. It’ll look like something you’d see in a science lab, but roll with it.
Mix it all together.
Alternate adding dry and wet to the creamed butter mix. Start and end with the dry. Don’t overmix. Don’t panic if it looks a little thick. That’s what we want.
Scoop it out.
Spoon tablespoon-sized dollops onto your baking sheets. Give them some breathing room. They’ll puff but not spread much.
Bake and cool.
About 10 minutes per tray. They’re done when the tops spring back a little. Cool on the sheet for a few, then transfer to a rack. Or a towel. Whatever’s clean.
Make the filling.
Beat the butter and shortening. Add the fluff. Then the rum, nutmeg, and powdered sugar. Beat it until it’s smooth and a little fluffy. Taste it. Pretend you’re not going to sneak spoonfuls. Lie to yourself. It’s fine.
Assemble.
Spoon or pipe the filling on one cookie. Sandwich with another. Repeat until they’re all gone or you’ve lost count.

Storage Options:

They keep in an airtight container in the fridge for about 3–4 days. Texture’s best the first two. You can freeze the cookies and the filling separately. I’ve done that once and forgot about them for a month. Ate them anyway. Still great.

Variations and Substitutions:

Skip the rum. Use a splash of vanilla instead. Or almond extract if you’re feeling wild.
Swap in cream cheese frosting. It’ll be richer, tangier, and more prone to disappearing straight from the bowl.
Add a little orange zest to the batter. It’s weirdly good.
Use a gluten-free 1:1 flour if you need to. Just don’t overbake them—they dry out fast.
Mini version: Use a teaspoon of batter and pipe filling with a zip-top bag. People go nuts for these at cookie swaps.

What to Serve with Gingerbread Whoopie Pies?

A mug of hot cocoa—bonus points for whipped cream and cinnamon.
A strong cup of coffee to balance the sweetness.
Mulled wine if you want to feel like a Dickens character.
A big blanket, a cheesy movie, and absolutely no interruptions.

Frequently Asked Questions:

Can I make the dough ahead of time?
Yep. Wrap it up and chill it overnight. Just let it sit a few minutes before scooping.

Do I have to use marshmallow creme?
Honestly? It’s kind of the soul of the filling. But if you don’t have it, buttercream will do. Just don’t call it a whoopie pie around a purist.

Can I ship these?
You can, but the filling softens. Wrap them tight, keep them cool, and maybe include a warning: “Contains holiday joy and possibly a trace of rum.”

I hope these gingerbread whoopie pies find their way into your kitchen, your holiday rotation, or at least your secret “I need one more cookie” stash. They’re cozy, imperfect, a little sticky, and totally joyful—kinda like the holidays themselves.

If you try them, tell me. Did you go for the rum? Did your whoopie pies end up looking like a Pinterest fail but taste like a dream? I wanna know. Let’s trade cookie stories.

< Remember it later! >

Planning to try this recipe soon? Pin it for a quick find later!

< Remember it later! >

Planning to try this recipe soon? Pin it for a quick find later!

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