I was indoctrinated into the cult of the Minnesota State Fair six years ago. At the time, it was sort of a goof with my then-girlfriend, now-wife: we were dating long distance between San Francisco and New York, so it was an excuse to meet halfway and in her hometown. Twelve hours, two orders of fried cheese curds, several Leinie’s and a live taping of "A Prairie Home Companion" later, I was hooked for good. I've only missed it twice since. (Once, for my wedding, and then last year, because my very-expectant wife was grounded.) Now, the Fair is as much of a Labor Day tradition to me as no longer wearing white shoes. Or switching from gin to brown liquor.
For many, The Great Minnesota Get Together—the second-largest state fair in the country—revolves around food. Fairgoers are greeted with the Miracle of Birth Center upon entering the fairgrounds, where they can witness the live birth of our future food in the form of calves, chicks and ducklings. Other structures are dedicated to prize-winning pumpkins or hogs. Interspersed throughout are concessions that have turned the raw product you just viewed into stunt food like foot-long corn dogs. (Even the Midway is food focused as it encourages you to barf up what you just ate.)
The key to surviving the fair—and yes, “surviving” is a goal—is portion control. Most Fair fare should be shared, with few notable exceptions (three on a corn dog is bad luck). It’s a marathon, not a sprint, so splitting an order of cheese curds between four people will ensure that you are still in fighting form hours later at the Leinie Lodge.
This year, I partook of the following Fair staples, in order:
• Corn dog
• Mini donut
• Fried cheese curds
• Smoked beef stick
• Summit Extra Pale Ale
• Walleye cakes
• Chicken-fried bacon
• Walleye fries
• Leinenkugel Original
• Mini cinnies
• Pork chop on a stick
• Leinenkugel Oktoberfest
• Cheddar stick
• Strawberry shakeI’m not gonna lie. Somewhere around the chicken-fried bacon, things went a little south. One bite would have been enough—a whole strip of the stuff was too much. My first year at the Fair, I was a machine (I guess enthusiasm goes a long way). Now as age, parenthood and inertia have caught up with me, the fair bouillabaisse requires stamina and vigilance. Too much of one thing, a bad combination here or there, and you start scanning the fairgrounds for the Pepto-Bismol-on-a-stick booth. Over the years, I’ve experienced a few clunkers: deep-fried Twinkies are terrible, fried candy bars are overrated, Scotch Egg On A Stick disappointing. While my brother-in-law favors chili dogs, I eschew items that I can get at the ball game. I love the offerings that are unique to the Fair or scream Upper Midwest: Walleye anything, pork chops, cheese curds, corn.
As you eat, throngs of Midwesterners swirl around you, their woodland camo, Minnesota Vikings gear and Chaska Hockey sweatshirts making a rainbow of fruit flavor. Looking around, you can forget that Minnesota was the state of Mondale and Wellstone, but scattered around the fairgrounds are signs that Minnesota remains a liberal populist state: taking a break between adventures in gluttony, I filled out a survey for earnest-looking Al Franken volunteers with comically oversized campaign buttons. Disappointingly, the survey did not include questions concerning whether or not I had visited the Oink Booth or who my preferred cheese-curd purveyor was. Later, I’d see a Michele Bachmann scarecrow in the Agriculture Building and browse Guy Noir t-shirts the Minnesota Public Radio booth.
But yeah, the food. Oof.
via www.theawl.com
