Sweet civilisation: What do you get when you ask architects to compete in a gingerbread competition?

Melissa Woolford is on the phone, having an animated conversation about powdered sugar. ‘We need it today,’ she implores. She is the founder of the Museum of Architecture and The Gingerbread City, a sugary masterpiece that has been created at Coal Drops Yard in London’s King’s Cross. It has been a big undertaking, although one with a sweet pay off. When I meet her, I am practically fizzing with excitement, even though I can’t eat gluten.

Melissa has been running the Museum of Architecture for almost 20 years and The Ginger Bread City for nine. It’s their annual fundraiser (the museum is a registered charity). ‘The mission of the museum [which ironically does not yet have a physical building] is to help the public better engage with architecture,’ Melissa says. ‘We look at things that people are familiar with, like a gingerbread house, and say: “How can we make this extraordinary?” By getting architects, engineers, landscape architects, and other people in the built environment to transform these things and to be able to talk about these different themes within architecture.’

In an age of increasing AI influence, gingerbread is also a clever way of getting children interested in something that isn’t a screen, Melissa tells me. However, there is an AI feature at the end of the exhibition that shows you what you’d look like as a gingerbread biscuit.

Each year there is a different theme, and this year’s is ‘play’: a concept the architects involved have really taken and ran with. ‘They are very competitive,’ Melissa assures me. The museum provides all the contributors with a ‘special structural gingerbread recipe’ to ensure their creations can survive their display period. ‘It doesn’t taste very nice,’ Melissa admits, but the structures still look so mouthwatering. Temptation still wins out, however, with bits and pieces of the creations disappearing as the exhibition goes on. ‘I think we do have some sneaky fingers, but for the most part the children are actually well behaved. It's the adults who are like: “Is this real,” and start poking things.’

The City itself is astounding in its complexity. A miniature steam train circles the perimeter high above as masterpieces of confectionery constructed by this country’s finest architects compete for my attention. Gingerbread Big Ben looms large, the clock face of the Elizabeth Tower rendered in sugar and lit up from the inside. Below it, a tube station’s entrance has become a sugar-cube igloo and marshmallow snowmen and women commuters pile in and out. Elsewhere, a picture-perfect gingerbread rendering of Brighton’s Royal Pavilion stands proud, decorated with ice gems, custard creams, love heart sweets boasting slogans such as ‘TRUE LOVE’ and ‘BE MINE’, and, of course, a horde of rainbow jelly sweets. Other highlights include a gingerbread tree house created by PLP Architecture (the brains behind Tiktok’s new kaleidoscopic headquarters in London); a reimagining of the quidditch grounds in Harry Potter by Gianluca Gianfiglio and David Balboa Gonzalez; and a black gingerbread and liquorice Parliament, complete with gummy bear MPs overseeing the Gummy Budget, courtesy of UHA.

‘You might think editing Country Life has its stressful moments, but it is nothing compared to making a gingerbread house,’ Country Life’s Editor in Chief, Mark Hedges, once told me. Two people that can relate are Great British Bake Off star Pui Man and the principal of the London-based architecture studio SPPARC, Trevor Morriss. They have been collaborating tirelessly on a gingerbread version of the exhibition hall of Olympia, the events venue in London that SPPARC are currently reimagining. It’s a masterful offering, complete with an animated fairground inside with a carousel and Christmas tree that spins around and other illuminated features.

‘I have always loved making gingerbread houses,’ says Pui, absentmindedly wiping away trails of stray icing on her creation. ‘It took me over a week just to bake’. Trevor was responsible for the templates for the build. ‘The timing was more challenging because he didn’t give me the templates until the last minute,’ she says, looking at Trevor pointedly. He laughs. She has only slept for four hours in the past two days in order to get their creation completed in time. Trevor, as an architect, is used to late hours and tight deadlines.

‘We applied the same love and care to this as we apply into Olympia as a main project,’ he says. ‘One of the very first shows that was held in the Olympia in the 1890s was a circus, so we wanted to get some of that history coming into this idea as the old Olympia now merges into the new Olympia.’ He thinks The Gingerbread City has been a great way of raising awareness of his industry. ‘It does absolutely get kids across all ages — not just little kids, but big kids too — thinking about design, and I think if we put cakes and architecture together, that's a pretty potent set of ingredients to get people interested.’

‘Next year,’ he promises me with a manic, ambitious glint in his eyes, ‘we are going to go even bigger’. The expression on Pui’s face says it all.

For more information about The Gingerbread City and how to visit, see their website.