My Air Fryer: Should You Buy One? (A Closet-Organizing Monologue)

So I’m in the middle of cleaning out this closet in the spare room—the one that became a “put stuff here when we moved in” void. There’s a lamp I’ve never plugged in, three old yoga mats that smell like regret, and somehow a single flip-flop— My phone’s playing that 90s playlist I pretend I’m too cool for. “Torn” by Natalie Imbruglia came on and I actually sang along out loud. My cat, Jasper, looked at me from the bed like I’d lost my mind. Probably did.

And my mind drifted to the air fryer sitting in the kitchen. My air fryer. Which I still, after three months, feel a little weird about owning. Like I joined a club I didn’t know existed. So here’s the real talk: if you’re wondering whether to buy one, here’s what I’ve figured out. Which isn’t much, honestly. But it’s honest.

Why I even looked into this

I didn’t wake up one day craving crispy food. That’s not how it happened.

My neighbor—the one with the pristine lawn and two golden retrievers who never bark—kept posting these photos on Instagram. Salmon. Broccoli. Something that looked like chicken but shinier. All from her air fryer. I was impressed and embarrassed in equal measure.

Then I was at a friend’s place for a “guys watch football” thing, and someone made wings in one. They were good. Not mind-blowing, but way better than I’d expected.

So I bought one. I don’t even remember what brand, honestly. I grabbed it off Amazon during a late-night scroll when I should have been sleeping. It was a medium size. Not too big, not too small. Grey. It looked official enough.

That’s it. No research. No YouTube deep dive. Just impulse and peer pressure.

What surprised me after a week

Okay so the first thing: it’s fast. Like, stupid fast. I made frozen french fries and they were done in under 15 minutes. I was so used to the oven taking forever and then the fries being sad and limp. These were actually crispy. I stood there in the kitchen eating them straight from the basket, wearing sweatpants I should have washed two days ago. No regrets.

But here’s the thing that nobody tells you: you have to shake the basket. Like, every few minutes. I didn’t know that at first. My fries were burned on one side and raw on the other. I stood there, spatula in hand, cursing under my breath because I’d already used dish soap on the basket and had to wash it again. Jasper just watched from the doorway. Didn’t help.

The noise thing nobody mentions

It hums. A low, constant hum. Like a small fan with a mission. I don’t mind it, but my wife mentioned it the first time she came downstairs for coffee. “What’s that sound?” she asked, still half-asleep in her robe. I said it was the air fryer. She looked at me like I said I’d bought a pet snake. Now she’s fine with it. But that first morning, she wasn’t a fan.

Also: it gets hot. Not like “burn your face off” hot, but you wouldn’t want to touch the top right after it runs. I keep a trivet under it now. Learned that one the hard way.

No clue if that’s true for all air fryers or just mine. I don’t know if the brand matters. I don’t know if I got lucky or if they’re all like this. So take that with whatever salt you have on hand.

One trap you should avoid

Don’t get the smallest one just because you live alone or it’s cheaper.

I almost did that. Saw a cute little round one that was maybe eight inches wide. Then I realized I couldn’t cook a full chicken breast in it. A single sad drumstick, maybe. Not a whole meal.

So I went medium-sized. And even then, I’ve already stuffed it too full once or twice, trying to feed four people. My tip: whatever size you think you need, go one step bigger. Unless you’re only making snacks for yourself. Then get small. Just don’t expect to host a party with it.

Also: don’t put anything wet in there. I mean, you can, but it’ll steam instead of crisp. I learned that when I tried to reheat some leftover pizza and it came out like pizza-flavored bread pudding. Not great. Not great at all.

Another thing—and this is embarrassing—I still haven’t figured out the timer. It beeps when it’s done but sometimes it beeps twice? Or three times? I honestly don’t know what that means. I’ve been using my phone timer instead. I’m too embarrassed to read the manual. It’s been three months. I’ve accepted this is my life now.

Who probably doesn’t need this

If you’re the type of person who eats most of your meals out, or if your idea of “cooking” is microwaving a frozen burrito, you probably don’t need an air fryer. It’s one more thing on the counter that you’ll look at every morning and feel vaguely guilty about.

If you don’t like crispy food? Then obviously no. But honestly, who doesn’t like crispy food? That’s a trick question.

If you have a really good toaster oven that you already use for everything, you might not notice much of a difference. I’ve heard some people say they’re basically the same thing (I don’t entirely get the science of it, something about fans and heating elements). My friend’s dad has an old toaster oven from the 1990s and he swears it’s just as good. He might be right. I don’t know enough to argue.

And if you hate cleaning small appliances? Yeah, the basket has to be washed. It’s not terrible—the coating makes it pretty easy—but it’s not “put it in the dishwasher and forget it.” At least mine isn’t. I’ve heard some have dishwasher-safe parts. Another thing I haven’t verified.

You know what works just as well for frozen fries? A pan with some oil and a lot of patience. Honestly. It’s not as fast but it’s cheaper and uses fewer appliances.

The part that actually matters

Here’s what I end up cooking most: chicken wings. Vegetables. Reheating stuff. Frozen things that want to be crispy.

I made salmon in it once. Turned out okay, but I burned my hand on the basket because I forgot a towel. I was wearing that hoodie with the loose sleeves that I should have retired years ago. I dropped the basket on the floor and a piece of salmon landed on Jasper’s paw. He was not pleased. I had to coax him with treats for an hour.

I still haven’t tried baking in it. I know people say you can make cakes or whatever, but I’m not there yet. Maybe if I ever read the manual.

If you’re like me—someone who cooks maybe 40% of the time and the rest is takeout or panic—it’s a nice tool to have. It’s not life-changing. It’s not going to make you a gourmet chef. But it saves time on the stuff you already make. And it’s pretty easy to clean once you get the hang of it.

What I’d tell my neighbor

True story: If she hadn’t already bought one. Or if she asked. She wouldn’t ask. She probably has three.

I’d say: buy one if you want to cook faster and don’t mind a small learning curve. Don’t buy one if you’re happy with your oven and you hate counter space getting eaten up. Get one that’s medium-to-large unless you only cook for yourself. Be ready to shake the basket. Don’t put wet things in. Use your phone as a timer. Give yourself permission to not read the manual.

And if you can, get one from somewhere with a good return policy. That way if you hate it, you’re only out the hassle, not the money.

I’m still not sure I use mine right. But I use it. That’s something.

Anyway, back to the closet. I just found a receipt from 2019 for a pizza I don’t even remember ordering. And I dropped the flip-flop again. Jasper is judging me.