Making food drawings funny with pie, sausage and spoon gags

Food that looks funny begins with a familiar problem: everyone recognises a pie, sausage or spoon, so the joke must survive an instantly readable shape. Crumpled pastry, bent ends and an absurdly large serving spoon give a cartoonist plenty to work with. The aim is character rather than realism.

Food humour lands when ingredients keep their identity. A sausage can wear a tiny hat, a pie can look offended, and a spoon can behave as though it has swallowed lunch. Exaggerated proportion and expression create the gag, while careful marks around steam and pastry keep the drawing grounded.

Australian settings supply material without elaborate research. A meat pie from a Melbourne market, a sausage sizzle at a Sydney school fete, or a compact apartment kitchen after work can establish posture, props and personality. Familiar scenes invite recognition; the sharpest joke comes from one unexpected scale or behaviour.

That mixture of observation and invention suits cartooning well. Andy Fanton’s site gathers comic strips, drawings, television projects and mini-strips, showing how a recurring object can join a larger fictional world. For artists balancing deadlines and day jobs, food also makes a practical daily exercise: quick, specific and open to revision.

Building a pie worth drawing

Start with the pie’s outline rather than its filling. Establish the domed lid, crimped edge and visible base in a few confident strokes, then decide where the viewer’s eye should land. A tiny crack, oversized bulge or steam cloud can interrupt the tidy shape before the interior needs any detail.

Give the pastry an attitude without losing its appetite appeal. A raised eyebrow in the crust, filling escaping through one corner, or a lid hovering above the dish can turn a familiar treat into a performer. Keep the joke readable at thumbnail size, because many readers meet the drawing at feed size first.

Giving sausages their own personalities

A sausage needs a silhouette that separates it from its bun. Bend the ends, vary the length and leave space for mustard, onion or a little relish. The casing can catch a highlight, but the important feature is its outline, since that shape survives rapid sketching and monochrome printing.

Personality comes through the relationship between food and setting. During a sausage sizzle, one snag can queue behind another, inspect the tongs or carry its own tray. Fanton’s reflection on funny drawings in practice is a useful reminder that recurring objects can develop into comic voices with their own habits.

Letting an oversized spoon take over

An oversized spoon changes the hierarchy of a meal. If the spoon reaches the size of the pot, the chef becomes tiny; if it towers over the pie, the pastry can tilt back in alarm. Perspective lines should lead towards its bowl, while the exaggerated handle gives the artist room for a label, face or improbable passenger.

Food element	Straight treatment	Comic treatment	Quick visual cue
Pie	Even dome and neat crimping	Filling escaping or crust eyebrow	Break the circular silhouette
Sausage	Even curve on a plate	Ends behaving like legs	Make one end the front
Spoon	Correct size beside the bowl	Handle taller than the cook	Let perspective exaggerate scale

Scale also lets a familiar utensil carry the scene. A small diner seated on the spoon handle can reveal just how enormous it has become, while a tiny fork near its bowl provides a useful measure. Once the size joke is established, extra detail should support it rather than dilute the surprise.

Grounding the joke in Australian life

Local habits make a universal food drawing feel specific. Market stalls at Melbourne’s Vic Markets, the freezer aisle at Coles or Woolworths, and sausage sizzles outside Australian school fetes present different shapes, colours and social rituals. Borrow the paper cone, brown-paper wrapping or stainless-steel tongs that belong to the scene you are actually drawing.

Compact kitchens in Sydney and Melbourne offer another reliable setting. Draw the narrow bench, crowded kettle and stacked containers before placing the food within them. These obstacles can direct the eye and create the joke: a spoon too broad for the sink, perhaps, or a pie balancing precariously beside the toaster.

Reference details deserve care because Australian labels are not decorative extras. FSANZ’s Food Standards Code, operating under the FSANZ Act 1991, sets mandatory requirements for ingredients, allergens, claims and packaged-food information. Even a quick carton in the background becomes part of the world when its panels and symbols look convincing.

Finding the gag before the polish

Find the joke before polishing the drawing. Make several tiny thumbnails, each with one alteration: a giant spoon, a sausage with arms, a pie losing its lid. Test the silhouettes at small size and keep the version whose meaning survives instantly. Detail comes after that decision, not before it.

Observation should be mixed with exaggeration rather than copied line by line. Note how pastry catches light, how a paper bag folds and which utensil stays closest to the plate. The portfolio at Deepali Gupta’s website demonstrates how an online body of creative work can develop as an evolving collection rather than a sealed display.

Turning sketches into published comics

Published comics require the object to survive repeated appearances. Fanton’s body of work for The Dandy includes George vs Dragon, Boo!, Carrotty Kid and Bad Grandad, each using distinct shapes and voices. A sausage or spoon in a series needs enough consistency that readers recognise it while still finding a new joke in each panel.

Production discipline matters too. Decide which details stay fixed, such as the pie’s crimping pattern or spoon handle, and which can flex with each scene. Scan the finished sequence for repeated poses, then adjust before publication. Clear staging also lets the humour work on a phone, in print and at the size used for a quick gag strip.

Turning lunch into your next comic

Character building can be as compact as a meal break. Fanton’s skeleton drawing tips show how a spare, recognisable design can support an exchange between figures; the same economy can turn a pie, sausage or spoon into an active participant. Give each object one posture, one facial feature and one recurring weakness.

Open a notebook, draw a familiar Australian lunch and exaggerate one element beyond reason. Share the result as a sketch, a single-panel gag or the seed of a recurring comic, then use the response to decide what deserves another appearance. Pick up the pen, draw something laughable and give the food a voice.