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You made it to the good part. For fifteen years, r/treedibles has been the internet's coziest corner for people who would rather make their edibles than buy a mystery gummy from a fellow named Chad. This book is that community in recipe form — forty easy-to-medium recipes written by people who have thoroughly ruined a batch of brownies so that you need not.
You will notice the headnotes ramble. This is on purpose — a loving tribute to every recipe blog that made you scroll past two thousand words about a lavender farm before revealing that yes, you do in fact require eggs. We honor the form. We also honor your time, so the moment we reach the ingredients, we cease all rambling and get to work.
The one house rule, offered with love:
know your dose, start low, and go slow.
Run every batch through the free TREEDIBLES calculator, take half of what you think you can manage, and wait two full hours. The edibles are not going anywhere. Neither are we.
Educational & harm-reduction only. Label everything. Keep it from children, pets & the fellow who "doesn't feel anything." Know your local laws. Never drive. Do not stack edibles upon alcohol — the dose is driver enough.
These forty are free, and they stay free. If they earn a spot in your kitchen, the full One Hundred is pay-what-you-want — and every dollar keeps the calculator and the guides free for the sub.
If you make one thing in this book, make these, then immediately regret telling anyone, because now they're "the gummy person's" gummies and there is a line at your door. Guard them. Name them if you must. My first batch, I left them cooling on the counter and my roommate ate what he described as "a couple" and what the empty tray described as "a felony." He was fine. He was also gone for six hours and came back with a renewed appreciation for the texture of carpet. The gateway gummy, is what I'm saying.
Sprinkle 2 tbsp unflavored + 1 tbsp flavored gelatin over ½ cup COLD fruit juice and let it bloom 5 minutes, until it looks like wet sand — dry gelatin dumped into warm liquid fisheyes and never dissolves. Then warm on low, stirring, just until glassy (never boil — gelatin is a diva). Off heat, stir in 1 tsp sunflower lecithin and 1 tbsp House Batch oil (150 mg), stirring constantly so every bear is equal under the law. Dropper into silicone molds fast, chill 30 min, pop out.
I bought a gas-station GPS in 2009 that gave directions as gentle suggestions. "You could turn left," it would say, "or not, you're an adult." It got me lost exactly once, in a cornfield at dusk, and rather than recalculate it simply said, "Well. Here we are." I kept it six years out of respect. It understood the destination was never the point. These gummies are the same philosophy in candy form: gentle, low-stakes, no rush. Start here if you're new.
Same method as Everyday Bears at half the dose — 75 mg total across 30 gummies is 2.5 mg each. You can always eat two next time.
They're sour, then they're sweet, then you're horizontal reevaluating some choices. The name writes itself. My aunt swears the sour version "hits different" and while that is not how chemistry works, I have stopped correcting her at family functions because the last time I corrected her about anything she brought it up at Thanksgiving for three consecutive years.
Make Everyday Bears, then toss the finished gummies in 1 part citric acid to 4 parts sugar. A 1:1 mix is roughly four times too sour and the acid pulls moisture out of the gelatin, so the coating turns to syrup within a day. Toss just before serving, not for storage.
There is a produce stand on Route 9 that sells watermelons out of the same rusted truck bed every summer, run by a man who has never once told me the price and instead just looks at the melon, then at me, then names a number that feels spiritually correct. Nine dollars. Four dollars. Once, twelve, and he seemed embarrassed about it. I trust this man more than most institutions. These gummies taste like his best day.
Everyday Bears method with watermelon juice; a drop of green + red food coloring in two layers if you want the rind look. Pour the red layer, chill 15 min until tacky, then pour the green. Keep the reserved second layer warm — off the heat in a bowl set over warm water — or it sets solid in the bowl while the first layer chills.
My grandmother kept a candy dish of peach rings on her coffee table that were, conservatively, older than me. They were less candy and more geology. Nobody ate them; they were decorative, a still life titled Abundance. When she passed, we found nineteen more bags in a closet, unopened, purchased against a shortage that was never coming. We miss her every day. We did not keep the rings.
Everyday Bears method with peach/apricot juice, ring molds, finished in sugar.
Fudgy, forgiving, famously hard to ruin — the trust fall of edibles. I once made these for a "chill hang" that turned into six people watching a nature documentary in complete silence for ninety minutes, occasionally whispering "look at him go" about a single determined crab. Best night of that entire year. The crab made it. We all made it.
Melt ½ cup cannabutter — of which 1 tbsp + 1 tsp is House Batch oil (200 mg), the rest plain — with 4 oz dark chocolate low and slow. Whisk in 1 cup sugar, then let it cool until it's barely warm to a fingertip — eggs dropped into hot chocolate scramble — then 3 eggs one at a time, then ¾ cup flour + ¼ cup cocoa + a pinch of salt. Don't overmix. Bake at 350°F in a lined 8×8, 25–30 min.
Somewhere out there is a guy who would tell you, with total sincerity and slightly red eyes, that these are the finest brownies ever assembled by human hands. He would be correct. He would also then ask if you've ever really looked at a brownie. Don't answer. Just hand him one and let the man cook, metaphorically, because you already did the cooking, literally.
Same as Sofa Surfer. That's the joke. Great brownies don't need reinventing, they need respect.
My uncle put flaky salt on everything for a year after a single trip to a "farm-to-table" restaurant that charged him forty dollars for what he described, unprompted, at every gathering, as "basically a nice toast." He was radicalized. There is no going back for him. But he was right about the salt on brownies, and I will give him that, quietly, so it doesn't start anything.
Make Sofa Surfer brownies; swirl ¼ cup warm caramel over the batter before baking, finish with flaky salt out of the oven.
There is a house on my street with the same above-ground pool it has had since roughly the first Bush administration. Every spring they fill it; every August it turns a color unknown to nature; every September a different uncle is out there with a skimmer and a beer, negotiating. I have never once seen anyone swim. I've come to suspect the pool isn't for swimming — it's a thing to gather around and quietly worry about together. Beautiful, honestly.
Melt ½ cup cannabutter — of which 2¼ tsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain, whisk in 1 cup brown sugar, 1 egg, vanilla. Fold in 1 cup flour, a pinch of salt, 1 cup white chocolate chips. Bake 350°F in a lined 8×8, 20–24 min.
Bright, tart, and gone before you can say goodbye to anyone. The recipe you bring to the function and quietly take full credit for all night.
Press a shortbread crust (1 cup flour, ¼ cup sugar, ½ cup cannabutter) — of which 2¼ tsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain, into a lined 8×8; bake 350°F, 18 min. Pour the filling onto the crust while the crust is still HOT, straight from the oven — onto a cooled crust the filling seeps underneath and the layers separate. Pour over a whisked filling of 1 cup sugar, 2 eggs, ⅓ cup lemon juice, 2 tbsp flour. Bake 20 min more. Dust with powdered sugar.
My husband and I got caught in the Colorado Elk Walk last fall — the seasonal migration where the elk move through town like they hold the deed to it. One bull stepped into traffic, removed the front bumper from a parked truck, and continued on without so much as a glance back. The alarm went off for eleven minutes. A man came out in a bathrobe and simply accepted it. We think about that elk a great deal. He knew something we did not.
Cream ½ cup cannabutter — of which 1 tbsp + ¾ tsp is House Batch oil (180 mg), the rest plain — with ¾ cup brown sugar; beat in 1 egg + 1 tsp vanilla. Mix in 1 cup flour, ½ tsp baking soda, 1 tsp cinnamon, a pinch of salt, then 1½ cups oats and a fistful of raisins (or chips — we're not cops). Bake at 350°F, 11–13 min.
Named with total honesty, because we respect you. These are for a night with zero plans and one very soft blanket.
Cream ⅔ cup soft cannabutter — of which 1 tbsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain, with ½ cup each brown and white sugar. Beat in 2 eggs + vanilla — one egg cannot hydrate this much flour and the dough turns to sand. Fold in 1¾ cups flour, 1 tsp baking soda, a pinch of salt, and a heroic quantity of chocolate chips. Chill 30 min. Bake 350°F, 10–12 min.
There is a specific smell — cinnamon and butter and warm sugar — that time-travels you directly to being nine years old and not yet responsible for anything. That's the whole pitch. That's the cookie.
Cream ½ cup cannabutter — of which 1 tbsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain, plus ¾ cup sugar, 1 egg, vanilla. Mix in 1½ cups flour, 1 tsp cream of tartar, ½ tsp baking soda, pinch of salt. Roll balls in cinnamon-sugar. Bake 350°F, 9–11 min.
My father-in-law believes every dessert is "pretty good" and has said so, in that exact tone, at every holiday for nineteen years. He is a difficult man to impress and an easy man to feed. He ate four of these and said nothing at all, which from him is the Nobel Prize.
Cream ½ cup cannabutter — of which 1 tbsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain, plus ½ cup peanut butter + ½ cup each sugar. Add 1 egg, vanilla. Mix in 1¼ cups flour, ½ tsp baking soda. Roll in sugar, bake 350°F 8–10 min, press a chocolate kiss into each the moment they come out.
Half iced tea, half lemonade, all porch-swing. The drink for an afternoon with a temperature and no obligations.
Fill a glass with ice, half unsweetened iced tea, half lemonade. Stir in a measured 5 mg of tincture — check your tincture's mg per ml and measure in ml, never by "a dropper" (a full 1 ml dropper of a typical homemade tincture is closer to 28 mg) — and a little simple syrup. Garnish with a lemon wheel and a sense of accomplishment.
A creamy, coffee-kissed sipper for taking it easy. We left the vodka out on purpose — stacking booze on edibles is how a mellow night files for divorce. The dose abides just fine on its own.
Over ice: ½ cup cold brew, ¼ cup cream or oat milk, a spoon of simple syrup, a measured 5 mg of MCT tincture — measure in ml against your own tincture's strength, not by the dropper. Stir slow.
Warm, spiced, and gently baffling. The blanket-and-a-book drink.
Steep the chai bag in ¼ cup boiling water for 4 minutes first, then stir that concentrate into 1 cup warm milk with a spoon of honey — tea will not brew in warm milk, the fat coats the leaf and you get milk that tastes vaguely of cinnamon. Whisk in dosed canna-oil or MCT tincture — the fat helps it absorb and keeps it from separating.
Smells like the good part of autumn — the sweater part, not the raking part. Made on the stove while you stand there feeling wholesome.
Warm 4 cups apple cider with a cinnamon stick, a few cloves, an orange slice. Off the boil, whisk in dosed oil or tincture measured for 4.
No oven, no problem, no pants required. Rolled by hand while contemplating the ceiling and the general shape of your life.
Stir 1 cup oats, ½ cup peanut butter, ⅓ cup honey, ⅓ cup mini chips, and 1⅔ tsp House Batch oil (80 mg) into a shaggy dough. Chill 20 min so it stops being a menace, then roll into balls.
The gas station by my first apartment had a fountain machine where the cola tasted faintly of every other soda, and I have chased that exact wrong flavor my whole adult life without success. These are better than that. But that machine had something. Vision, maybe.
Everyday Bears method with cola (flat is fine, better even) as the liquid; bottle molds; finish in sour sugar if you like.
For the person who wants to feel fancy on a Tuesday. No actual champagne — sparkling grape juice does the celebrating, and you keep a clear head for the part that counts.
Everyday Bears method with sparkling white grape juice (let it go still first), a whisper of citric acid, coarse sugar to finish.
My neighbor swirls peanut butter into everything as a personality. Chili. Once, a lasagna. We do not speak of the lasagna. But he was right about brownies, and I've made my peace with owing him that.
Make Sofa Surfer brownie batter; dollop ⅓ cup warmed peanut butter on top, swirl with a knife, bake as usual.
No campfire, no bug spray, no telling a story that gets slowly less true each summer. Just the good part.
Press a graham-cracker crust (1½ cups crumbs + ½ cup cannabutter — of which 1 tbsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain) into a lined 8×8 pan and bake 350°F for 8 minutes, then cool — an unbaked crumb crust never binds and the bars fall apart when you cut them. Layer chocolate + mini marshmallows; broil 30–60 sec until toasty. Watch it like a hawk.
The recipe that taught a generation that "no-bake" was a valid life path. Nostalgic, forgiving, gone in a day.
Melt ¼ cup cannabutter — of which 2¼ tsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain, plus 6 cups (10 oz) mini marshmallows low; off heat stir in 6 cups crispy rice cereal. Press into a lined pan (don't compact too hard). Cool, cut.
Some days call for a cookie that has fully given up on subtlety. This is that cookie. It is chocolate about chocolate.
Cream ½ cup cannabutter — of which 1 tbsp + 1 tsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain, plus ¾ cup sugar, 1 egg, vanilla. Mix in ¾ cup flour, ⅓ cup cocoa, ½ tsp baking soda, pinch salt, then a landslide of chocolate chunks. Bake 350°F, 10–12 min.
My great-aunt mailed these every December in a tin that had, at one point, held something else — you never knew what. The cookies always tasted faintly of the tin's former life and we loved them anyway. Possibly because of it.
Cream ½ cup cannabutter — of which 1 tbsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain, plus ¾ cup brown sugar + ¼ cup molasses, 1 egg. Mix in 1¾ cups flour, 2 tsp ginger, 1 tsp cinnamon, ½ tsp cloves, 1 tsp baking soda. Roll in sugar, bake 350°F 10 min for chewy, 12 for snappy.
The breakfast of champions who have nowhere to be. Uses up the three sad bananas on your counter and makes the whole place smell like a hug.
Mash 3 ripe bananas; mix with ⅓ cup canna-oil — of which 1½ tsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain, ½ cup sugar, 1 egg, vanilla. Fold in 1½ cups flour, 1 tsp baking soda, pinch salt. Bake 350°F in a loaf pan, ~50 min.
Looks like you have your life completely together. Takes twelve minutes and four ingredients you already own. We won't tell.
Melt 4 oz chocolate + ½ cup cannabutter — of which ¾ tsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain. Whisk in 2 eggs + 2 yolks, ¼ cup sugar, then ¼ cup flour. Fill greased ramekins, bake 425°F for 11–12 min — edges set, center jiggly. Rest 1 minute before inverting — straight from the oven the sides haven't set and the cake collapses onto the plate. The molten center is barely-cooked egg and raw flour — use pasteurized eggs, and skip this one if you're pregnant, immunocompromised, or serving anyone who is. Invert onto a plate.
For solving mysteries, or at least the mystery of where the last four hours went. No baking, dog-bone mold heavily encouraged.
Mix 1 cup oats, ½ cup peanut butter, ⅓ cup honey, mini chips, and 1⅔ tsp House Batch oil (80 mg). Chill 20 min, roll or press into molds.
For when the snack and the reason you want the snack are the same snack. Beautifully circular.
Pop 8 cups popcorn. Melt ½ cup cannabutter — of which ¾ tsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain, plus 1 cup brown sugar + ¼ cup corn syrup; boil 3 min, stir in ¼ tsp baking soda (it foams — that's the magic). Coat popcorn, bake 250°F 45 min, stirring every 15. Break the clusters apart while it's still warm — once it cools it sets into one sheet, and snapping it then gives you uneven pieces and uneven doses.
Ten minutes of effort, infinite fridge dignity. Snap off a piece, feel briefly like a person who has it together.
Melt 8 oz chocolate low; stir 1 tbsp + ¼ tsp House Batch oil (160 mg) in off the heat. Spread thin on parchment, scatter sea salt, pretzels, dried fruit — whatever sparks joy. Chill, snap into shards.
Slow, smooth, worth the wait — the thing you make when you've got a little time and a lot of chill. Say the name in three unhurried words.
Boil 1 cup sugar + ½ cup corn syrup + ¼ cup water to 250°F. Stir in ½ cup warm cream (it will bubble hard), then cook back up to 248°F — skip this and you get sauce, not caramels. Off heat, stir in 4 tbsp cannabutter — of which 1 tbsp + 1 tsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain, 1 tsp vanilla, flaky salt. Pour into a lined pan, cool, cut, wrap.
Fancy-looking, embarrassingly simple, and the fastest way to convince someone you took a class. You did not take a class. You melted chocolate and told the truth about nothing.
Heat ½ cup cream, pour over 8 oz chopped chocolate, stir in 2¾ tsp House Batch oil (140 mg), chill until scoopable. Roll into balls, roll in cocoa. Fresh-cream ganache is perishable — keep refrigerated and eat within 1 week.
My wife's grandmother made her "famous" sauce for forty years, and on her deathbed she gathered us close and whispered the secret ingredient. It was a jar of store sauce with extra garlic. Everyone wept. It remains the best sauce I've ever had. There's a lesson in there about legends being mostly confidence, but I was crying too hard to write it down.
Warm 4 tbsp cannabutter — of which ¾ tsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain, with minced garlic on low (don't brown it). Stir into a good jar of marinara (extra garlic, per Nonna), simmer 10 min, toss with rigatoni and a snowstorm of parmesan.
Because not every edible needs to be dessert. Fancy enough for a date, easy enough for a Tuesday you've decided to romanticize.
Cook pasta. Gently warm 3 tbsp cannabutter — of which ⅜ tsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain, with minced garlic — low, no browning. Toss with pasta, parmesan, black pepper, a splash of pasta water.
The multi-tool of the pantry. Drizzle it on toast, stir it in tea, glaze a thing — and quietly know exactly how strong every spoonful is.
Warm 1 cup honey with 4 tsp House Batch oil (200 mg, matching the example above) — or the equivalent in tincture — in a double boiler on low, 20–30 min, stirring. A little lecithin helps them stay friends.
I bought a rocking chair at an estate sale purely for the air conditioning; the tag described it as "haunted (friendly)." I did not believe this. I also cannot explain why it rocks on its own sometimes, gently, like it's remembering something nice. We get along fine. It is three feet from me now.
Use your favorite dough (store-bought allowed here). Spread with ⅓ cup soft cannabutter — of which 1.7 tsp is House Batch oil, the rest plain, a heavy dusting of cinnamon-sugar, roll, slice, bake per the dough. Cream-cheese glaze while warm.
For the person who wants to feel like they have their morning together before the morning has even happened. Assembled the night before by a more optimistic version of you.
Stir ½ cup oats, ½ cup milk, a spoon of yogurt, 1 tsp of the weak dilution (1 tsp House Batch + 9 tsp plain oil = 5 mg/tsp), and honey in a jar. Fridge overnight. Top with fruit in the morning.
No machine, no ice-and-salt ritual, no standing there cranking like a colonial child. Two ingredients, a freezer, and patience.
Whip 2 cups cold heavy cream to peaks; fold in 1 can sweetened condensed milk with ¾ tsp House Batch oil (40 mg) whisked in, plus vanilla. Freeze 6 hours.
I once paid five dollars for a milkshake, on purpose, at a themed diner, and spent the first half deeply skeptical that any milkshake could possibly be worth five dollars and the second half quietly deciding that this one, somehow, was. It was milk. It was ice cream. There was no bourbon in it — I asked, twice, just to be sure. And yet it earned the markup. This is the homemade version that would have saved me the five dollars, though then I'd have missed the whole existential journey, so who's really richer.
Blend 2 scoops ice cream, ½ cup milk, and 1 tsp of the weak dilution (1 tsp House Batch + 9 tsp plain oil = 5 mg/tsp) (or use one scoop of the No-Churn plus one plain scoop and skip the extra oil — two dosed scoops is two doses). Top with whatever.
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