Funnel Cake

My strongest belief in the universe — besides the sanctity of salted butter and the absolute necessity of knowing where your good spatula is hiding — is that funnel cake deserves a medal, a parade, and possibly its own theme song. Riotous, sugary, and somehow both carnival-tier and kitchen-comfort, this batter-into-golden-net magic is my comfort weapon. Also my chaos. Also my frosting-covered apology letter to myself.

How I turned a Thanksgiving into a powdered-sugar crime scene

Once, on a hubristic Thanksgiving that began with me deciding to “elevate” the dessert course (remember the lemon bars disaster of 2019? we don’t), I attempted funnel cakes because why stop at pie when you can have deep-fried regret. Long story short: oil too hot, batter like glue, my cousin tried to catch a flying funnel cake (don’t ask), and Aunt Jan cried into a napkin (she was moved). It was dramatic. It was emotional. It was delicious if you ignore the charred bits and the fact I learned you cannot dry a wet turkey with a funnel cake net.

Also: that first time I made them, I thought “funnel cake = breakfast?” and then ate one with leftover Thanksgiving gravy because I am somehow allergic to rules. If you want a gentler breakfast alternative that I endorse when I’m behaving, try my go-to no-egg pancake recipe — fluffy, calm, and non-flammable.

A pivot back to the batter — before I spiral into more family confessions

ANYWAY, before I emotionally relive an entire holiday dinner and get fired as dessert coordinator, let’s make funnel cake. It’s a batter that wants to be dramatic: thin enough to lace the oil, forgiving if you overmix (shocking, I know), and wildly judge-free when you shower it in powdered sugar like rain. Also, pro tip: give your spatula a pep talk. It helps. Small pep talk. Two words. You got this.

The Stuff You Actually Need (plus my mini-rants about brands)

• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup milk
• 1 large egg
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• Oil for frying
• Powdered sugar for serving

Mini-rants: Don’t feel obligated to buy the artisanal flour that costs more than your phone bill — unless you are baking for a bridal shower and need to impress someone named Kimberly. Trader Joe’s and Aldi have perfectly competent flour and milk (and Aldi’s powdered sugar is suspiciously good). Vanilla: real extract is worth it, but if you have the imitation in the back of the pantry (we all do), it’s fine. Also, if you love the sound of crunchy edges, use slightly less milk. More drama. Less sog.

Cooking Unit Translator — because conversions should not be a scavenger hunt

Use this to swap cups for grams or teaspoons for milliliters so every panicked midnight fry goes smoothly.

Technique: messy, precise, and what I learned by burning things

Okay, I’m not going to be one of those “step 1: zen breath” chefs. I will, however, tell you that funnel cake is about rhythm — pour, swirl, pause, flip — and the oil will talk to you if you listen (it says “too hot!” or “finally!”). I’ve learned the hard way that batter consistency is your soulmate here: thicker and you’ll make a pancake; thinner and you’ll make a sad oil cloud. Smell is a faithful guide — that warm, toasty scent is happiness; acrid smoke is regret. Also: have paper towels ready. Have them in a ceremonial pile. They will be needed.

1. In a mixing bowl, combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt.
2. In a separate bowl, whisk together the milk, egg, and vanilla extract.
3. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and mix until smooth.
4. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat.
5. Pour the batter into the hot oil in a spiral shape, making sure to overlap slightly.
6. Fry until golden brown, about 2-3 minutes on each side.
7. Remove from oil and drain on paper towels.
8. Dust with powdered sugar before serving.

Why I actually cook — and it’s not just for Instagram likes

Cooking is memory; it is how I map my life. My grandma’s hand size, the sound of my brother sneaking a second mini-funnel cake, the Trader Joe’s summer where we bought too many frozen berries and still ate them with wild, shameful happiness — these flavors are anchors. I cook to make rooms smaller and louder in the best way, to stitch together holidays and Tuesdays with the same joyful stitch. Food is identity and forgiveness (often from yourself after you’ve fried the wrong thing).

Micro-anecdote: the neighbor and the napkin scandal

Yesterday, my neighbor knocked and demanded a funnel cake for “science.” I handed one over with powdered sugar like confetti. He returned with a napkin that had a suspicious grease halo and said, solemnly, “You’ve changed my palate.” I laughed, then realized he was serious. That’s the power of sugar and hot oil, people. Respect it.

This chaotic FAQ: ask me anything (and I will answer with feelings)

Okay, I’ll stop talking now. This recipe is an emotional roller coaster that ends in powdered sugar and smiles — make it for someone you love, someone you fear, or just yourself on a Tuesday. And if your kitchen looks like a fairground after? Perfect. Safety tip: keep a towel, not your phone, away from the oil. Also maybe invite that neighbor over. They owe you a napkin.

Daily Calorie Needs — because dessert doesn’t cancel your macros (but it can coexist peacefully)

Use this to estimate how many calories a funnel cake will politely throw at your daily total.