Cindy Lange-Kubick: Fans swept up by funnel-cake mania
A small white dot on his maroon pullover gives him away.
Yes, the basketball fan from Milligan says.
Yes, he’s eaten one.
You know, it’s hard to deny dismantling a funnel cake when the sugary evidence is right there on your belly.
Not that Dan Kotas is ashamed of spending $4.50 on the crown jewel of the donut world.
He figured that paper plate piled high with a crusty swirl of fried batter and sweetened with a dusting of powdered sugar was “trans fat free.”
Besides, he shared it with his daughter.
And he only eats the dang things a couple of times a year anyway: county fair and state basketball time.
“I’d rate it an A,” he says. “It was a pretty good funnel cake.”
I headed out to Pershing Center on Friday afternoon chasing a rumor: Funnel cakes were selling like hot cakes at the Girls State Basketball Tournament.
Everyone, my tipster said, was ordering them up and snarfing them down.
When I arrived, near the end of the first quarter of the D-2 semifinals, the Ewing Lady Tigers were down a free throw to the Prague Panthers.
And fans were too busy cheering to do much chowing.
Still, the evidence was everywhere.
Greasy paper plates in trash cans by the media table, greasy paper plates in trash cans by the officials’ table, abandoned paper plates under the seats of out-of-town fans.
The tell-tell smattering of a powdery white substance on sweatshirts and team T-shirts.
Behind a counter in the concourse, Melanie Beckman sprinkled sugar — powdered or mixed with cinnamon over a piping hot ribbon of dough — and explained the funnel cake consumption pattern.
“People seem to like ’em in the morning. They come in and say, ‘I need breakfast.’”
Melanie and her husband, Tim, have been frying for King’s Funnel Cakes “forever,” she says.
They’re at Pershing for basketball and state volleyball, the Shrine Circus and Ribfest.
And the state basketball folks love their funnel cakes, Melanie says.
“Win or lose, they eat ’em.”
Sometimes the weather — snowstorm anyone? — puts a crimp in business, but once people get inside the building, willpower melts.
When the first half of the Ewing-Prague game ends — Panthers up by one — fans filter from the stands, heading for that smell …
Karen Rot orders her semi-annual confection — one today and one next week when the Ewing boys come to town.
“I only have one when we come to state,” says the woman with strings of Tiger-orange beads around her neck. “And we’ve been doing if for four years now.”
Funnel Cakes in March Forever, that’s her motto.
Next in line are Halie Gribble, 15-year-old guard for the Chambers Coyotes, and the team’s student manager, Laura Tomjack.
“I love the deep-fat fryingness and the yummy powdered sugar on top,” Halie says.
She didn’t eat a funnel cake Thursday, but today is Friday.
Halie’s season is over. Ewing beat Chambers by three in the quarterfinals.
Funnel cakes, she explains, are not one of those things you eat during playoffs.
But after? Bring ’em on — with a Pepsi to wash it all down.
And Butch Vasa, here from Weston to cheer on Prague, is parting with some cash for a piping hot plate of funnel cake, too.
“I only have one once a year at the county fair,” he explains, “but I saw ’em here and I said, ‘I gotta have one.’”
That’s the thing about a funnel cake: He who hesitates is lost.
And most don’t hesitate, says Melanie.
“These small towns bring the whole town. They just smell it, and they know right where to go.”
Funnel cakes are one of the joys of the state tourney, says Shickley girls coach Scott Shipley, who is just here to watch this time around.
“I always stop by and grab one.”
Meggan Woodrum and Jodi Stangle, members of the Sioux County Warriors, order their funnel cake “half and half.”
Powdered sugar on one side, cinnamon and sugar coating on the other. (Of note: Powdered sugar beats out cinnamon 10 to 1, and, sorry, no fruit toppings.)
Funnel cakes are “awesome,” says Meggan as the girls prepare to root for Ewing on principle — Prague beat the Warriors on Thursday by 20.
Ouch. A little funnel cake is bound to make things better.
The second half starts and greasy plates are stowed under auditorium seats.
Prague makes three-pointers, and the Panthers cheer.
Ewing answers with jumpers and layups and defense.
The third quarter ends in a tie.
The Beckmans close up shop until the 5 o’clock game.
There’s no point in frying the cakes when a title game berth is on the line.
The fourth quarter winds down, and Ewing winds up and pulls away.
Behind the Prague basket, three little boys in blue keep rooting for their Panthers.
Cole Prohaska dips tortilla chips in a sloppy pile of orange cheese-like sauce.
So far, says the 9-year-old with sparkly blue hair, he’s had popcorn and nachos. But, yes, he likes funnel cakes. Maybe he’ll have one soon.
His friend in the blue hat and the panther paw print on his cheek agrees.
And then there’s Logan Wade. A sandy-haired 10-year-old with a future linebacker’s body. Proof that my tipster was wrong.
Let’s see, says Logan, counting on his fingers.
In the past hour he’s had an ice cream sandwich. A popcorn. A water. Another ice cream sandwich. And oh yeah, that pack of Sour Punch Straws candy, coated in sugar.
He will, however, not be having a funnel cake.
Tummy too full?
Nope. That’s not it.
“I pretty much don’t like anything about them.”
Reach Cindy Lange-Kubick at 473-7218 or clangekubick@journalstar.com.
Yes, the basketball fan from Milligan says.
Yes, he’s eaten one.
You know, it’s hard to deny dismantling a funnel cake when the sugary evidence is right there on your belly.
Not that Dan Kotas is ashamed of spending $4.50 on the crown jewel of the donut world.
He figured that paper plate piled high with a crusty swirl of fried batter and sweetened with a dusting of powdered sugar was “trans fat free.”
Besides, he shared it with his daughter.
And he only eats the dang things a couple of times a year anyway: county fair and state basketball time.
“I’d rate it an A,” he says. “It was a pretty good funnel cake.”
I headed out to Pershing Center on Friday afternoon chasing a rumor: Funnel cakes were selling like hot cakes at the Girls State Basketball Tournament.
Everyone, my tipster said, was ordering them up and snarfing them down.
When I arrived, near the end of the first quarter of the D-2 semifinals, the Ewing Lady Tigers were down a free throw to the Prague Panthers.
And fans were too busy cheering to do much chowing.
Still, the evidence was everywhere.
Greasy paper plates in trash cans by the media table, greasy paper plates in trash cans by the officials’ table, abandoned paper plates under the seats of out-of-town fans.
The tell-tell smattering of a powdery white substance on sweatshirts and team T-shirts.
Behind a counter in the concourse, Melanie Beckman sprinkled sugar — powdered or mixed with cinnamon over a piping hot ribbon of dough — and explained the funnel cake consumption pattern.
“People seem to like ’em in the morning. They come in and say, ‘I need breakfast.’”
Melanie and her husband, Tim, have been frying for King’s Funnel Cakes “forever,” she says.
They’re at Pershing for basketball and state volleyball, the Shrine Circus and Ribfest.
And the state basketball folks love their funnel cakes, Melanie says.
“Win or lose, they eat ’em.”
Sometimes the weather — snowstorm anyone? — puts a crimp in business, but once people get inside the building, willpower melts.
When the first half of the Ewing-Prague game ends — Panthers up by one — fans filter from the stands, heading for that smell …
Karen Rot orders her semi-annual confection — one today and one next week when the Ewing boys come to town.
“I only have one when we come to state,” says the woman with strings of Tiger-orange beads around her neck. “And we’ve been doing if for four years now.”
Funnel Cakes in March Forever, that’s her motto.
Next in line are Halie Gribble, 15-year-old guard for the Chambers Coyotes, and the team’s student manager, Laura Tomjack.
“I love the deep-fat fryingness and the yummy powdered sugar on top,” Halie says.
She didn’t eat a funnel cake Thursday, but today is Friday.
Halie’s season is over. Ewing beat Chambers by three in the quarterfinals.
Funnel cakes, she explains, are not one of those things you eat during playoffs.
But after? Bring ’em on — with a Pepsi to wash it all down.
And Butch Vasa, here from Weston to cheer on Prague, is parting with some cash for a piping hot plate of funnel cake, too.
“I only have one once a year at the county fair,” he explains, “but I saw ’em here and I said, ‘I gotta have one.’”
That’s the thing about a funnel cake: He who hesitates is lost.
And most don’t hesitate, says Melanie.
“These small towns bring the whole town. They just smell it, and they know right where to go.”
Funnel cakes are one of the joys of the state tourney, says Shickley girls coach Scott Shipley, who is just here to watch this time around.
“I always stop by and grab one.”
Meggan Woodrum and Jodi Stangle, members of the Sioux County Warriors, order their funnel cake “half and half.”
Powdered sugar on one side, cinnamon and sugar coating on the other. (Of note: Powdered sugar beats out cinnamon 10 to 1, and, sorry, no fruit toppings.)
Funnel cakes are “awesome,” says Meggan as the girls prepare to root for Ewing on principle — Prague beat the Warriors on Thursday by 20.
Ouch. A little funnel cake is bound to make things better.
The second half starts and greasy plates are stowed under auditorium seats.
Prague makes three-pointers, and the Panthers cheer.
Ewing answers with jumpers and layups and defense.
The third quarter ends in a tie.
The Beckmans close up shop until the 5 o’clock game.
There’s no point in frying the cakes when a title game berth is on the line.
The fourth quarter winds down, and Ewing winds up and pulls away.
Behind the Prague basket, three little boys in blue keep rooting for their Panthers.
Cole Prohaska dips tortilla chips in a sloppy pile of orange cheese-like sauce.
So far, says the 9-year-old with sparkly blue hair, he’s had popcorn and nachos. But, yes, he likes funnel cakes. Maybe he’ll have one soon.
His friend in the blue hat and the panther paw print on his cheek agrees.
And then there’s Logan Wade. A sandy-haired 10-year-old with a future linebacker’s body. Proof that my tipster was wrong.
Let’s see, says Logan, counting on his fingers.
In the past hour he’s had an ice cream sandwich. A popcorn. A water. Another ice cream sandwich. And oh yeah, that pack of Sour Punch Straws candy, coated in sugar.
He will, however, not be having a funnel cake.
Tummy too full?
Nope. That’s not it.
“I pretty much don’t like anything about them.”
Reach Cindy Lange-Kubick at 473-7218 or clangekubick@journalstar.com.
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