Midway Snacks and Chocolate Cows

A middle-aged woman dressed in a Dutch-maid costume gestures toward a burly Cheviot sheep and tells a small crowd: “See, the leg of a lamb is like a ham.” The sheep is not amused.

A couple of aisles over, a gray-and-tan Spanish goat butts a chain-link fence that separates him from the brown San Clemente on the other side: He’s top billy of the goat stalls and he has the beard to prove it. Two Navajo-Churro sheep get a little frisky across the way, and a woman passing by scowls and says to her husband: “Animals!”

It’s opening weekend at the L.A. County Fair, and for anyone who loves food this is the place to be--not, of course, for fine dining, but for that once-a-year reminder that food does not magically appear in supermarkets full-blown. See a live cow milked. Walk through the hall of agriculture. Learn which counties grow oranges and which grow pistachio nuts. Check out the blue-ribbon jams and pickles and cakes and cookies. Drink California wine. Gulp the claims of the hucksters selling their slicers and dicers, mixers and spinners. And eat more kinds of junk food than you ever thought possible.

The first order of business upon arriving at the fair seems to be figuring out what to eat first. A warm churro or cinnamon roll? A cold cup of lemonade? A hot dog on a stick? Some people head straight for the French dip sandwich stand where a couple of big-bellied men serve Budweiser on draught. And some may look longingly at the beguiling Toad in the Hole restaurant--its neon slogan: “The Aristocrat of Foods”--but note that the place serves its signature dish only on Wednesdays.

Over at the Plaza of the States, close to the Indian fry bread stand, a uniformed man recruits volunteers to help out at the big doughnut-eating contest. A teen costumed as a wedge of cheese walks up to a 5-year-old and says, “I’m Chelsea Cheese!” A blond-haired toddler giggles at the sight of the walking grape girl; her father tells her, “When you grow up you can get a job being grapes.” A man volunteers his services in the contest and the cheese yelps, “Yeah! You’re such a good sport!” Nearby, working the crowd are other members of the Salad Bar Delites song and dance troupe--slogan: “a veritable smorgasbord of vitamin-packed entertainment”--including an artichoke, a tomato, a milk carton, a celery stalk. The egg boy suddenly shouts out, “Hurray for Texas Donut Company!” A non-vegetable ringmaster explains the rules to the kid contestants and their adult helpers: “You’re going to eat the doughnut. Don’t choke.”

Suddenly the contest is on. Two bites in, a little girl drops out in tears, jelly smeared all over her face. A boy named James finishes first and wins, but all the contestants get ribbons for trying.

The competition is more brutal at the Home Arts Building, where many of the bakers and canners who entered food in the fair are finding out whether they have won or lost. (Judging is done before the fair opens, and entrants aren’t invited to stick around.)

“I thought my cookies were good,” says one disappointed baker, searching the glass cases in vain for her entry. “Can’t they even display them?”

“Yours were as good as those yellow ones,” her husband tells her.

“You’re right,” says the woman. “Those are kind of ugly.”

A young girl scans the winning bread entries, trailed by her father and brother. “Is this all we came for?” her brother asks. “I want to go on some rides.”

“Wait,” says the girl, “I want to see how I did.”

Her dad spots the ribbon first and reads the label proudly: “ ‘Leslie R. Martin, Riverside, California.’ Blue ribbon! Is this the one you thought wouldn’t win?”

“Yeah,” says the girl, amazed. “I thought the top wasn’t smooth enough.”

“Wow, your corn bread got first place,” her brother says, impressed.

In Building 4, counties from all over the state show off their agricultural bounty. Fresno went for cute animated bear cubs surrounded by lemon, grape and fig displays; Kings County has a majestic Harvest King (with pistachios and cartons of milk in his head wreath); Marin County set up a reflecting pool; Sacramento County put its canned food on cool revolving pedestals. But in an odd show of boosterism, L.A. County chose to display something titled Grotesque Growth (a nasty tree fungus) and a couple of glass cases showing off roof rats and an urban coyote.

The wine pavilion is in this building too, but there’s a better crowd at the nearby dairy booth, where they’re lining up for free shots of chocolate milk. One dad tells his son, “It comes from chocolate cows.” Well, the fair doesn’t have to be educational.