Not for Butterfingers : Veterans, Amateurs Battle It Out in County Fair Churning Contest

The championship was on the line.

For Lesley Vleerick, who believes in preparation, physical conditioning had been essential.

“A lot of people might pump iron, but I’ve got a 20-pound cat,” she said. “I pump cat.”

For Joe Mangrich, who wore a neckerchief over a checkered shirt and clenched a stalk of wheat between his teeth, image was everything.

“It gives me that farmer effect,” he said.

For Mary Kumpula, it was simply a case of folding under pressure.

“I made my 9-year-old son enter the jelly-doughnut eating contest,” she said. “So he made me enter this.”

So there they were--Vleerick, Mangrich, Kumpula and nine others--ready to battle it out in the butter-churning competition at the Los Angeles County Fair, which ends this Sunday.

Some were veteran entrants like Vleerick who had planned it all ahead of time, filling out the paperwork that assured a spot in the lineup. Others, like Kumpula, who had simply stopped by to watch, ended up in the fray when several who had signed up failed to show.

Vleerick, a 39-year-old assistant credit manager from Orange County, slipped on her work gloves (“they’re for blisters”) and wiggled her arms (“gotta loosen up”) as the judges explained the rules.

Each contestant would get one of the churns--a two-gallon crock with a wooden dasher that extended through a hole in the lid. A half gallon of heavy cream would be ladled into each crock. After churning the cream into butter granules, the contestants would have to cleanse the butter and mold it into “some original design.”

Scoring would be weighted, with 20% for speed, 30% for artistry of the sculpture and 50% for the quality of the butter.

The several dozen spectators in the stands surrounding the hot, humid cattle-judging ring grew quiet as the moment drew near.

“Go!” someone shouted.

A dozen wooden handles started hammering up and down like pile drivers.

For the first five minutes or so, the pace was rapid, the smiles were broad and there was a lot of chitchat.

Vleerick, who won two years ago and was favored to repeat, explained her technique between strokes.

“First it’s straight up and down,” she said. “Then it’s around and up, a little Maytag motion there. Then a long motion. Then a short, choppy motion.”

Mangrich, a 66-year-old retired Internal Revenue Service agent from Pomona who has been entering the competition since 1969, tried standing, sitting, crouching, hopping and even hoisting the crock under one arm while churning with the other.

“It keeps you from bending so much and hurting your back,” he said.

Kumpula, a 36-year-old homemaker from Ontario, concentrated on watching what the others were doing.

“It’s the first time I’ve ever tried this,” she said. “I don’t generally do this kind of stuff.”

By the 10-minute mark, the pace was slowing, the faces were becoming grim and the remarks were infrequent and terse.

“I’ve got my whole body, all my emotions into this,” Vleerick muttered. “My arms feel like lead pipes, but I can’t quit now.”

Five minutes more, and little flecks of yellow were beginning to collect in clumps in the bottom of the churns.

Vleerick was among the first to finish churning. She scooped the soggy mass from the crock, rinsed it in ice water to get rid of the buttermilk and began kneading it to get rid of the water.

Kumpula, a quick study, was right behind her.

Mangrich, who had smeared cream all over his face “because it’s good for the skin,” seemed to be having a lot more fun, but he was well back in the pack.

Then came the artistic part.

Vleerick sculpted something lumpy that she said was a cow’s udder.

“I’m not very good at this part,” she admitted.

Kumpula, who seemed to have more of a flair for such things, produced a portrait of a woman.

“It’s my grandmother,” she said. “She used to churn butter.”

Mangrich turned out a dandy heart with a face on it, but by then, everyone else had long since finished.

After a lot of looking, poking, sniffing and tasting, the judges said that everyone had made pretty good butter.

In the end, the novice artistry of Kumpula edged out the practiced speed of Vleerick, with Mangrich out of the running.

“This is too great!” Kumpula whooped as she admired the large, purple ribbon that proclaimed her “champion.”

“I never won anything before,” she said. “I just can’t believe it!”

Vleerick gave the winner a hug and said she felt fine about finishing second. But she looked a little bushed, and she admitted that some of her acquaintences find it a bit hard to understand why she throws her all into things like butter churning.

“Why do you think I’m still single?” she asked. “Nobody wants to date a butter churner who’s an assistant credit manager. To make it worse, I’m into hog calling, too.”

Mangrich, who has yet to win in 22 attempts, said he did not mind losing at all.

“Hey, it was fun,” he said. “That’s what matters.”