The great San Francisco gingerbread war commences Hotel chefs' feats of engineering are a feast only for eyes

Fairmont Executive Chef Chad Blunston makes a little repair on his gingerbread house Thursday November 27, 2013 in San Francisco, Calif. The Fairmont Hotel on Nob Hill is finishing up it's famous gingerbread house which takes up a prominent place in the lobby along with other Christmas scenes. less Fairmont Executive Chef Chad Blunston makes a little repair on his gingerbread house Thursday November 27, 2013 in San Francisco, Calif. The Fairmont Hotel on Nob Hill is finishing up it's famous gingerbread ... more Photo: Brant Ward, The Chronicle Photo: Brant Ward, The Chronicle Image 1 of / 22 Caption Close The great San Francisco gingerbread war commences 1 / 22 Back to Gallery

The great gingerbread war has heated up in San Francisco, and it all comes down to one eternal question.

Is it a gingerbread house if you can't eat it?

Great minds, which are the kind of minds that run the Fairmont and St. Francis hotels, differed. The two grand doyennes of San Francisco hostelries unveiled their holiday gingerbread houses in their grand lobbies last week. The annual backbiting and gingerbread biting has commenced.

In short, you can eat the Fairmont gingerbread house but not the St. Francis gingerbread house.

"Go ahead, have a piece," said Tom Klein, Fairmont hotel's regional vice president and general manager. He was handing out gingerbread shingles to startled hotel guests in the lobby. Technically, eating the Fairmont's walk-through gingerbread house is not allowed, but Klein had a point to make about the edibility of the building materials, and the kids he was handing the gingerbread to were not complaining.

Meanwhile, at the St. Francis, its fanciful baked house was more of a medieval castle, lavishly and intricately decorated by chefs with tweezers. It's a smaller, more intricate creation, exhibited behind a sturdy metal fence designed to keep grubby little fingers at bay.

Recycled gingerbread

Much of the Westin St. Francis gingerbread has been recycled from past years' houses. Some of the St. Francis gingerbread is 7 years old, which, while not as old as the St. Francis itself, is pushing it for gingerbread.

"I would rather make something for people to look at than to eat," said Head Pastry Chef Jean-François Houdré. "Usually we chefs spend hours preparing something to eat and it's gone in a few minutes."

Such is the have-your-cake-or-eat-it dilemma of all gingerbread house chefs. You can't admire a gingerbread house, Houdré said, that is no longer there.

Houdré was in the lobby, checking for gingerbread cracks before the black curtains were removed for the unveiling. This year, he added a small park and sledding hill made out of sugar and marzipan to the base of the castle, and he installed a few marzipan celebrities. There is a marzipan Elvis, a marzipan Muhammad Ali and a marzipan James Dean, none of them appearing to know what he is doing outside a medieval castle.

Repairs made daily

Both hotel chefs know that, for many, gingerbread houses present too great a temptation. Both chefs spend long hours every day repairing damage caused by overzealous or hungry hotel guests. Houdré said the metal fence keeps away most guests, but that they insist on throwing coins. The coins have short-circuited the electric train that runs around the perimeter of the castle, and this year Houdré had to rush out and buy a new transformer to keep it going.

He has already gathered up a big bag of tossed coins, and he plans to donate them to Philippine typhoon relief, although Houdré said there are better ways to help typhoon victims than wrecking his castle.

At the Fairmont, Executive Chef Chad Blunston was busy installing fresh gumdrops. People keep pulling off the gumdrops, he said, as he affixed a red gumdrop with a dab of icing to a spot on the southern wall, exactly 11 gumdrops up from the floor.

So far, he said, the structure has remained free of insects, although vigilance is required. A certain New York hotel was known for adding pesticides to its lobby houses to keep the bugs away. At the Fairmont, Blunston said guest safety comes first and, besides, the hotel is at the top of Nob Hill.

"No bug is going to climb uphill all this way for gingerbread," he said.

Fairmont guests, offered free chunks of gingerbread from a box of tiles that was being used for last-minute repairs, did not seem worried about such matters. Hotel guest Bill Gormley, visiting from New Jersey, wolfed down a big gingerbread tile that hotel manager Klein handed him, then asked for more.

"Gimme another shot," Gormley said, and Klein gave him seconds. "You know, I'm surprised it tastes this good."

While Gormley chewed, hotel engineers were inspecting the structural integrity of the Fairmont house. Since hotel guests will walk through it, the thing cannot be made only of gingerbread. Weeks ago, hotel carpenters hammered together a wooden frame, and only later were Blunston and his staff permitted to slather on the gingerbread tiles.

At the St. Francis, there are no carpenters, although Houdré feels like one. Patching the cracks that keep appearing over the years as the aging gingerbread dries out, he said, is at least as hard as making a three-tier wedding cake.

Pushing the limits

Each year the gingerbread houses get more elaborate and grander. Both hotel chefs say that size doesn't matter, but neither seems to believe it. The St. Francis castle is bigger this year, with longer turrets. The Fairmont house is wider this year, with an expanded workshop for Santa. There's also an all-new gingerbread doghouse because the Fairmont welcomes dogs.

But both chefs are aware that there are limits. Blunston's gingerbread house cannot get taller than 22 feet because it already grazes the lobby ceiling. Houdré's gingerbread house cannot get taller than 12 feet without bumping into the bottom of the lobby's famous hanging clock.

"I would like to get rid of that clock someday," Houdré said, glaring at it. "Then we could go a lot higher."