Review: Fair fare

Jeanne Crain glamorized state fairs. After all, who wouldn't want to go to the State Fair, meet a handsome stranger, and fall in love?

This girl, that's who.

My one and only reason for going to the Arizona State Fair this year was to sample as many fried treats on a stick as my arteries (and health-conscious mom) would permit. Had I gone alone, I would have tried far more fattening treats, but the 5'2", 110-pound bird on my shoulder steered me away from the pork chop on a stick, dammit, and toward the petting zoo!

My mom led me to another sort of pork chop...

Sweet, angelic, corkscrew-tailed piglets aside, the Arizona State Fair offers a sufficient selection of punctured, fried foods. I'd never been to a state fair before, so I didn't know what to expect. But knowing that "state fair" is virtually synonymous for "mecca of all things skewered, battered, and fried," I figured I'd run into some interesting, greasy creations.

Not even 30 yards from the entrance, this array of signs greeted me:

Viking Balls??? If for some reason you didn't know what curly fries or burger sliders were, the cheery little illustrations of these foods on their respective banners would be helpful. But the diagram for Viking Balls would just lead you to believe you're about to order a pair of dark brown testicles on a stick, complete with standard mustache and Viking hat. Some clarification from the server inside the stand proved most helpful. Viking Balls are not the manhood of some 10th century Scandinavian pirate, but rather meatballs threaded onto a wooden stick, coated in batter, and deep-fried. Far batter than a testicle, if you ask me--but not by much. One greasy ball (the "sampler") cost $2, while a three-pack went for $6. I wisely ordered just one Viking Ball.

Oooh, looks good to me, kinda like a fried lollipop. One bit, though, revealed a flavorless batter that would have benefited from a lesson from a corn dog. The corn dog balances flavor and texture, resulting in a slightly salty batter that is at once crunchy and pillowy. The Viking Ball had the pillowy part down, but I was left hungering for some crunch. The meatball itself, however, was quite tasty. A combination of pork and other-stuff-I-probably-don't-wanna-know about, the meatball was well-seasoned and juicy.


I would've liked a couple of those on a stick, wrapped w/spaghetti. And then fried, of course.

There are few things I enjoy more than a blazing hot, homemade, golden brown egg roll. Egg rolls are already deep-fried, so putting that on a sign would've been redundant. But because this egg roll was featured at the State Fair, one more thing had to be done to it:


If I poked a chopstick through an egg roll, I could call it an "eggroll on a stick," but instead I paid $3 or $4 for someone else to do it for me. The huge egg roll was half-dipped in duck sauce, which I find pretty revolting. I ate the naked half, letting my parents sample the saccharine-soaked upper half.

Oops! Mom is in focus, but the egg roll, she is not

Upon inspecting the egg roll, I noticed that its surface was not the smooth, crispy exterior of your traditional fried egg roll. Oh no, this bad boy was chicken-fried. If there's one way to make an egg roll even unhealthier, the purveyor of these egg rolls figured it out.

The first bite into the egg roll released a torrent of cabbage-scented steam. Some shreds of carrot were incorporated into the cabbage, but where was the meat? Nowhere to be seen. Maybe the owners of this stand figured that because they were coating the egg roll in batter, they'd cut back on the fat and cholesterol by eliminating meat. Although the veggies were tender and well-seasoned, I missed the usual ground pork found inside egg rolls. And how about the batter? Well, it was tasty and crispy, I'll give it that. But had it not worn its chicken-fried coat, the egg roll would have been far lighter, crunchier, and more enjoyable. This was a prime example of why messing with perfection often ends disastrously.

After eating the egg roll, I felt healthy, as I'd just eaten so many veggies! I continued this healthy streak with an order of Frilly Fries for $5. I'm an absolute fried-potato junkie, whether in fry or chip form. I had my pick at the fair of spiced fries, chili fries, curly fries, steak fries, and other potato products, but I'd never seen anything like the Frilly Fries. As I carried the basket of FFs to a picnic table, my mom's jaw dropped. "What did you get???" she asked.

A big-ass basket of ruffly fries, that's what! although not on a stick, the FFs met the other main criterion of state fair food. The heaping mound of FFs reminded me of those Victorian collars you see in old paintings and in period pictures with Queen Elizabeth.

Once again, food out of focus, Mom in focus

The fries, as you see, certainly were frilly. And long. The FFs were also unseasoned--perfect, in my opinion. I like tasting the natural flavor of the potato when I'm eating fries/chips. Some of the FFs were completely crunchy like chips, while others had sections of sogginess that were more like fries. I would have preferred consistency regarding texture, but when you're frying pounds and pounds of potatoes, some of the spuds just won't cook up as crispy as others. This didn't faze me in the least, and I was soon shedding tears into an empty paper basket, wishing I had more Frilly Fries and a Lipitor.

Having already eaten more grams of fat than one should eat in an entire week, I limited myself to just one more fried item. The natural progression of courses led directly to desserts. But what to eat? The options included the traditional funnel cake (only meeting one criterion) and birthday cake on a stick (meeting the other criterion), but I needed to find something unusual to wrap up my experience at the State Fair. This stand looked promising:

Oreos! Cheesecake! Cookie dough! Twinkies! All battered and fried! My interest was piqued, but I pressed on, stumbling into this stand a few minutes later:


I'd heard of England's infamous deep-fried Mars Bar, which, all at once, sounds disgusting and delicious. Resembling a corn dog with a snowy shower of powdered sugar, the Snickers cost about $4.


One bite into the delicacy revealed that I wasn't eating tubular meat on a stick, though. There was no mistaking this for a corn dog. I mean, when was the last time the inside of your corn dog looked like this?

I hope your answer to that question is "never," 'cause I don't think the inside of any fried, be-sticked food should look like this. I ignored the vile-looking interior of the Snickers, trying to think of anything except...well, shit. Although it looked gross, it tasted pretty good. The Snickers was perfectly gooey, although the chocolate and caramel melted together, rendering the flavor of the caramel virtually unnoticeable. The batter around the candy was unremarkable, lacking crunch and flavor. The powdered sugar sweetened up the entire creation to the point of a sugar coma. A Snickers bar is bad enough for you, so why bother coating it in batter and frying it? In regard to both taste and healthiness, you're better off eating the Snickers directly out of its wrapper--or with a fork and knife, if Mr. Pitt says you must.

I didn't meet a handsome stranger at the State Fair, but I sampled some really interesting foods I never would have been able to taste outside of this venue. In addition to fried standards like zucchini and corn dogs, vendors at the State Fair sold some of the most unusual, fattening things they could put on a stick and/or fry. I can't wait to see what they come up with next.

Oh, and I totally wasn't kidding about the pork chop on a stick.