A taste of forbidden funnel cake

Beyond Takeout

Tantri Wija | For The New Mexican

9/30/2008 - 10/1/08

I've not been to the New Mexico State Fair in years, but I have a very strong memory from a time I did go when I was about 13. I can see myself standing at a wooden railing overlooking a pit, in which is "Fido, The World's Largest Pig."

While I wondered, even then, what the world's largest pig would be doing in New Mexico, one look at that giant, vaguely wheezing mound of flesh below me stilled all doubt. I have never forgotten the sight of that pig, so giant and unnatural — and available for me to gawk at for my own amusement.

I went to the state fair this year hoping that Fido would still be there — even though I was fairly sure he wouldn't be. Creatures that corpulent eventually suffocate under their own weight, but I thought there might be a successor "world's biggest pig."

Everyone I knew had a suggestion as to what I should eat at the fair. Corn dogs were popular, as were caramel apples — and absolutely everyone insisted I have a funnel cake.

I had never had a funnel cake.

As a child, funnel cake was so far over on the "unacceptable fatty-fat" side of the food chain that I never entertained it as an option — much like smoking or drinking gin. I can still hear my mother's voice in my head saying, "Oh God ... it's so fried ... it'll just make you sick. We have fruit at home."

So funnel cake remained something I avoided like a rat avoids poison — as if a single whiff of it could kill me.

Fair fare

We began, as all state fair visits should, with a giant turkey leg.

I am wholeheartedly amazed by the giant turkey leg thing. Normal people — people who are probably my banker, my congressman or my gynecologist, people with dignity — will go to an outdoor event, purchase a giant hunk of prehistoric meat, and gnaw on it for hours in public.

My boyfriend bought one, from which I took surreptitious bites when no one was looking. I purchased a corn dog, which is, if you are from Tajikistan and don't know, basically a cornbread-covered hotdog eaten off a stick. Phallic food rules the day at the state fair, from corn dogs to churros to frozen chocolate-covered bananas.

I had intended to save my sweet tooth for the famed funnel cake, but got sidetracked by Chuck's Nuts. (Who hasn't? Tee-hee.) But really, the caramel apple market is, in my opinion, cornered by Chuck Higgins of C.G. Higgins Confections, a Santa Fe-based chocolate shop that sets up a stand in the main expo building of the state fair. I saw lots of candied and caramel apples everywhere, but nothing to compare to the freshly-prepared, from-scratch loveliness of Chuck's.

Normally I don't eat caramel apples, because the ones I usually run into have a plastic caramel coating around an apple so ancient it probably knows what Adam looked like naked. These, however, were works of art. At one point, I even saw Chuck preparing the caramel in a giant vat right in front of me. Because the nice people at the stand wouldn't let me climb headfirst into the pot, I bought a nut-covered one to calm the beast within.

We had made the full circuit of the fair, having put everything that wasn't covered in rust in our mouths — but we had one more thing to try. The funnel cake booth was on the way out of the fairgrounds, which I had noted on our way in. There were funnel cakes aplenty at the fair, but this was the only booth that advertised them as a plate on which to serve a giant pile of soft-serve ice cream, so naturally I saved it for last.

But, as we approached the booth, I got a strong whiff of frying grease that brought the memories of the corn dog, caramel apple, turkey leg, and myriad other things I had nibbled on, licked, or crammed into my mouth that day back with a vengeance. "Oh, no," I thought. "Not now."

It depresses me to say it, but, like a 3-year-old with a bellyache, I had overindulged. There was no way I was going to keep a funnel cake down after all that fair food. So I turned my back on the tinkley ferris-wheel music and flickering lights of the fair, resolving to make my own funnel cake before this column was due — and then lie and say I ate it at the fair.

I would have done it, too, had we not passed the livestock show on the way out. There, lying on her side, suckling a brood of piglets, was this year's world's fattest pig. She wasn't billed as such; I guess that kind of schadenfreude — enjoyment of the misfortune of others — is tacky now. But she was clearly a record-setter. And I realized that the only thing that separated her from me was that she would probably have eaten both the turkey leg and the funnel cake, given half a chance.

Because, you see, the pig didn't have to fit into last year's winter pants.

Funnel cake is a form of fried dough — like Native American fry bread — whose name comes from the method of preparing it. It is a versatile beast that can be served with powdered sugar, cinnamon, sometimes frosting, or honey, if you're watching your health.

I got this recipe from www.rachelraymag.com, because I gather Rachel Ray is now the ultimate authority on pretty much everything. Consider: I recently turned on the TV to see none other than John McCain on Every Day with Rachel Ray.

It frightens me a little that this country is run by women with sensible haircuts who have mastered home economics and novel reading — the only person more powerful than Rachel Ray, in my estimation, is Oprah.

FUNNEL CAKE
(Serves 8)

3 cups vegetable oil (I gather real carnie-folk use lard)
4 cups flour
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2-1/2 cups milk
3 large eggs
Confectioners sugar, for dusting

In a deep medium skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat until it registers 350 to 375 degrees on a deep-fat thermometer.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, granulated sugar, baking powder and salt. Make a well in the center and add the milk and eggs; whisk until smooth.

Transfer the batter to a gallon-size resealable plastic bag, remove the excess air and seal the top. With scissors, snip off a corner to make a 1/4-inch-wide hole. Carefully squeeze about 1 cup batter (one-eighth of the mixture) back and forth into the oil, making a free-form lacy web. Cook until golden on the bottom, about 2 minutes. Using tongs, turn the cake over and cook until golden on the other side, about 1 minute more. Transfer the funnel cake to paper towels to drain briefly. Repeat with the remaining batter.

Dust funnel cakes with confectioners' sugar. Serve hot.