Our Fair Faves – Comparing Fair Notes

We’ve only recently awoken from our powdered sugar and trans-fat-induced coma, but fear not, even in our weakened and bloated state, we’ve lovingly woven together a recap of the best, the strangest, and the downright inedible food that the Great Minnesota Get-Together has to offer. As we do most things half-baked, we’ve surely missed a Midway’s worth of the more delectable fried lumps of [insert exotic animal of your choice here] on a stick. Please enlighten us with your favorite State Fair artery cloggers. Just add them by commenting to this posting.

The Bachelor
Going to the State Fair is sort of like going on a long road trip. Oh, it’s all fun and exciting and nostalgic in the planning stages. But about 10 minutes in, it dawns on you that you’ve made a huge mistake, and you find yourself clicking your heels and wishing like mad you could be magically transported to someplace more calming and serene, like say, oh, I dunno, a dentist’s char. This occurred to me shortly into the 49-mile walk from my parking spot somewhere near Lake Elmo to the entrance of the Fair.

I entered the Fair hot, sweaty, tired, frustrated, and generally seething. Oh, but it gets better. About 15 feet past the front entrance it hit me:  the dreaded “State Fair wall.” Or rather, I hit it. A wall of flesh, consisting of half a dozen extremely well-fed, big-boned, yardstick-carrying yokels taking up every maneuverable inch of street and walking at a pace that makes the glaciers seem speedy.

Arggghhhhhh!!!!!!!!

So I had two choices: Start swinging my elbows maniacally into every love handle that dared jiggle my way and eventually find myself locked up in one of the stalls of the swine barn, or smother my rage with salt, oil, and fat.

What better place to start than with French fries. And the State Fair fries are durn tasty. Crispy, hotter than the surface of the sun, with a good coating of oil, but not soggy. Bravo. But even for a man whose personal food pyramid is based on fried-potato products, those 10-gallon tubs of fries seem a wee bit absurd.

I could think of no better way to cleanse my palate than with some nice refreshing chunks of nature’s candy:  fruit—deep fried, coated in powdered sugar and impaled on a stick, of course! I fully expected to retch, but this sweet and oily kabob was strangely not bad. I burned the roof of my mouth 19 times, but I ate the entire thing.

I crammed various other “treats” into my mini donut hole:  errr, mini donuts, root beer, honey lemonade (don’t listen to the Food Snob, it’s not that great). But nothing could top the deep-fried Twinkie. I know, I know, this is soooo 2005, but I felt compelled. Once again, I was shocked to find myself enjoying this abomination. Apparently you could deep-fry a carburetor and I would find it delectable.

Well, there you have it, I’ve knocked about 14 years off my life after my day at the Fair, but I did it all for you, dear readers…..The Cheapskate
There are a few simple rules. Never go to the State Fair without a compatible eating companion. Split everything except drinks because, let’s face it, everything at the fair tastes good for exactly three bites. Maintain a ratio of 1 deep-fried to 3 non-fried entrees. And finally, when you start to understand that you would actually save money by buying a $7,000 massaging recliner in the Grandstand, proceed to the nearest exit and do not let them stamp your arm for re-entry.

No, really, I love the fair. Here’s the Cheapskate’s guide.

Wake up with a Moon Beam: In unknown coffee environments, always put the odds on a place that is equipped to make espresso. I’ve had decent luck with Moon Beam Coffee, a kiosk in the shadow of Ye Old Mill. You can get a simple, decent cup of iced coffee for $1.75 plus the $11 entry fee, bringing your first coffee of the day to a tidy $12.75.

Breakfast with the Bulldogs: The St. Bernard’s Bulldog Diner is a haven of orderliness, cleanliness, and un-deep-fried-ness. You and your Designated Eater can split the Spike’s Breakfast Special, add two very generous, very hot coffees, and pay about $5 apiece. Plus, the good ladies of St. Bernard’s sell handcrafts in the dining hall, and who can resist a doily?

The rights of lefse: Eventually you have to grit your teeth and dive into the claustrophobic mayhem of the Food Building. I paid $2 for a lefse roll that was a slight disappointment this year. Three bites in, all I had found was dry lefse. People! Lefse must be buttered and sugared all the way to the very edges. And as any Fair eater knows, the first three bites must be the best three bites, because by that time you’re standing in line for either the restroom line or the next entree.

Operation Dessert Storm: Funnel Cakes and Nitro Ice Cream, both in the Food Building, are the perfect ending to a perfect half-day of eating and wandering. The powdered-sugar-doused funnel cake beats the Bachelor’s mini-donut any day—fresher tasting, more interesting texture, and without the chemical aftertaste. The Nitro Ice Cream, flash-frozen on the spot using liquid nitrogen, is really different from regular ice cream. It’s creamier and has more flavor. You’re eating vanilla ice cream—and you’re not wishing it had something else on it or in it. I guess it really is rocket science.

The Food Snob
Wake up and smell the coffee, folks. The State Fair is not about food. It’s a paean to our agricultural heritage. At least it used to be, until they took the tractors off Machinery Hill and replaced them with (yuk) lawn tractors. Still, I go to the Fair celebrate farming. I eat there only as a tribute to the animals and plants that yield our nourishment.

I start with a tour of the animal barns. From there, it’s a short stroll to the “All the Milk You Can Drink” booth. It’s not a nickel anymore, but it’s still delicious. Then, taking the goodness one step further, I duck into the building-formerly-known-as-dairy. After admiring the artistry of the butter heads, I grab a milkshake. Just cream, sugar and a bit of vanilla.

Next it’s the Horticulture Building to revel in the bounty of our state. I feast with my eyes on the prizewinning vegetable exhibit, the mounds of crisp apples, and the mouthwatering Farmer’s Market displays. Then it’s time for my special reward: honey lemonade, the most pure and delicious food at the fair. I admire but never touch the honey ice cream studded with sunflower seeds, and just order my cup of nectar.

And that’s it. Well, I might snag a cheese curd from a friend, steal a bite of roasted corn or grab a French fry or two. But the Fair is not about fast food or heinous ‘on a stick’ creations.  It’s about the smell of fresh hay cradling the sheep in their coats, the thousands of seeds that comprise Jesse Ventura’s portrait in the Crop Art display, and the darling pink “Oink Booth” headbands that you get for free in the pig barn.

Hey, if I want mediocre, mass-produced fried foods, I can get those on any arterial highway in any city in America.  No, I go to the fair for pure food and a large dose of agricultural kitsch.

The Chowhound

Similar to a marathon, the State Fair requires considerable training. In days prior to the event I made sure to watch what I ate and I carefully planned my route so as to be in and out in the shortest time possible. This year I beat my previous record, clocking in just shy of 2 hours from door to door.

While most athletes diet to stay trim, I diet in order to eat as much as possible. However, on game day I made the rookie mistake of burning all of my energy in the first 15 minutes. Yes, I ate an entire plate of Australian Battered Potatoes, best described as inch-thick, potato-shaped slabs of fried batter, optionally topped with Cheese and/or Ranch sauce for a total of $6.75. Don’t get me wrong, these mammoth Aussie tots are good, but are best as a relay event for a team of four or more.

Knowing now that I would need to seriously limit my intake, I scaled back my original route to include only one sweet, one beverage, and simply one thing on a stick. In a last-second stroke of genius I combined my sweet and my beverage, racing from Sweet Martha’s with a large cone of hot chocolate chip cookies ($5.50) all the way back to the all-you-can drink Milk Stand ($1/cup). This saved much-needed space for my corned beef and cabbage on a stick.

Unfortunately, the corned beef and cabbage on a stick turned out to be a dud and I lost countless minutes as a result. I had imagined tender chunks of corned beef rolled in fresh cabbage, breaded, fried and eventually speared. So when the cashier handed me a soggy corndog I was thrown off track. After some convincing on her part I took a bite and was disappointed to find no trace of cabbage, just a hot dog-shaped piece of corned beef hiding under the breading. This was the worst $4 I spent. To add insult to injury, I had to sit across from this fit guy wearing expensive running shoes and boasting about his delicious sloppy joe on a stick. I was robbed.

All in all, I can’t be disappointed at my performance, especially factoring in the record time, but next time I will not peak prematurely at the first stand I see.