Funnel Cakes

My strongest belief in the universe — besides the sacred ritual of butter melting correctly — is that funnel cakes should be celebrated like the national holiday they clearly deserve to be. Also: powdered sugar is not a topping, it’s a personality.

The time I turned Thanksgiving into a deep-fried soap opera

I once brought funnel cakes to Thanksgiving because I thought "dessert chaos" would be a nice twist. It was not. Picture my aunt in a velvet sweater, a gravy boat in one hand and powdered sugar in the other, looking at me like I’d replaced the cranberry sauce with fireworks. Disaster. (Also: the lemon bars of 2019 haunt me — do not ask.)

Before that, my first attempt at funnel cakes involved a funnel, a jar of batter, and the kind of optimism you only get from late-night Trader Joe’s runs. Result: a greasy abstract art piece that the dog politely refused. Family anecdote? Yes. Humbling? Also yes. But also delicious-adjacent, which is the important part.

Okay, back to funnel cake — pivoting from shame to sugar

ANYWAY, before I emotionally relive the entire event and give you six reasons why powdered sugar is an essential vitamin, let’s get to the recipe. This is forgiving — like the kind of recipe that hugs you while you mess up and then gives you a golden, crispy pat on the back.

Pro tip: if you want breakfast-level comfort, these are basically pancakes but with commitment issues and a deep fryer. If you want guilt, proceed. If you want joy, proceed faster.

Ingredients (and my mini-rant about flour and Trader Joe’s bargains)

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 2 large eggs
• 1 1/2 cups milk
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• Vegetable oil for frying
• Powdered sugar for topping
• Fruits or chocolate (optional)

Cheap vs. fancy: you do not need artisanal flour for this — no one is judging your protein content when you ingest powdered sugar like a whisper of sin. I will say Trader Joe’s often has great eggs and milk, and Aldi has steals if you live near an Aldi and enjoy saving money on snacks (guilty). Mini-rant over.

Also: if you want a slightly healthier angle, try swapping half the milk for sparkling water for a lighter batter (I tried this once during the 2020 "let’s pretend we’re chefs" era — it worked, then I ate three).

Kitchen Math — Cooking Unit Converter (because measuring is adulting)

Need quick conversions because your measuring cups are ghosts? Use this little tool to make life easier.

How I learned to stop worrying and love the sizzle — technique breakdown

Listen: I do not adhere religiously to "do this then that" with emotions, and neither should you with funnel cakes. You will ramble, you will overthink, and then you will eat powdered sugar off your fingers and feel victorious. Here’s what I learned the hard way: keep the oil hot, but not lava-hot, and don’t crowd the pot unless you enjoy oil temperature tantrums.

1. In a large bowl, mix together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt.
2. In another bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, and vanilla extract.
3. Gradually add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients, mixing until just combined.
4. Heat the oil in a deep fryer or large pot to 375°F (190°C).
5. Pour the batter into a squeeze bottle or piping bag.
6. Squeeze the batter into the hot oil in a spiral or lattice pattern.
7. Fry until golden brown on both sides, about 1-2 minutes.
8. Remove from oil and drain on paper towels.
9. Dust with powdered sugar and top with fruit or chocolate if desired. Enjoy!

Also: use a slotted spoon like it’s a tiny, judgmental paddle. If your first funnel cake looks like a pile of noodles, call it rustic.

Oh — and if you crave fluffy breakfast vibes, these are cousins to pancakes; for inspiration on breakfast hybrids, check out my favorite hearty banana pancakes — not the same thing but a sibling in spirit.

Why this matters — emotional aside (yes, food is therapy here)

Cooking has always been how I translate emotion into something edible. My family talks in recipes — a whisper of cinnamon means "mom’s home," a fry in the oil means "we’re celebrating something chaotic." Funnel cakes, to me, are the edible equivalent of neighborhood summer nights: sticky, loud, and communal. They anchor traditions that outlive bad sweaters and worse haircuts.

Click, clatter, nostalgia — tiny anecdote microburst

One time my neighbor (bless her) handed me a jar of homemade jam mid-fry and I almost flipped a funnel cake but saved it with sheer will and a spatula. Jam-stained triumph. Two-word summary: triumph jam.

Chaotic FAQ — your burning funnel concerns answered by someone who has cried into powdered sugar

Okay, I’ll stop talking now. This recipe is forgiving, ridiculous, and utterly worth the powdered sugar beard you’re about to wear. Trust the sizzle, claim the sugar, and if anyone judges you at brunch, feed them a piece and smile.

Daily Calorie Needs Calculator — figure your funnel fate

Curious about how many calories your funnel cake binge will add to your day? Use this quick calculator to get a ballpark.