Posted by: tlnemethy | September 27, 2012

Fair Season Is Fried Deliciousness

Many people already know of my fascination with fair season, but if you don’t you’ll at least read about some of the awesomeness and maybe get inspired to attend your own fair season festivities. I dropped in on a fair earlier in the month, Rochester Fair to be exact. Now, when you’ve lived in an area of New England for as long as I have, you tend to know of all the fairs and have attended the majority. This is one of the fairs that I’d never gone to before, but if I stick around the area, I can guarantee I’ll go again.

It was smaller than usual, and much less crowded, but it had everything I wanted: fair food (the style, not quality), livestock, and the newest addition of rides. For the first point on my list, I managed to consume a deep-fried PB+J sandwich. Never before have I seen one offered at a fair, sure there’s normally some other deep-fried foods like fries, corndogs, fried dough, candy bars, jalapeno poppers, etc, but never a sandwich with the caliber of that primal childhood delicacy. I watched it being made as the sneaky customer that I am. First off, I was disappointed to find out that it was not a full out  homemade sandwich, but one of those prepackaged flying saucer-shaped “lazy person” sandwiches. The lady making it shoved a huge popsicle stick up its ass and proceeded to drop it on the ground where she debated on still serving it to me, before getting me a new one. With how excited I was, I probably still would have eaten that thing pre deep-fryer, but thinking back on it I’m glad she got me a new one.

I am new to this whole deep-frying fad and I suppose, except for the yearly fried doughs, avoid fried foods all together. I can be quite dense so when the realization hit that they actually dipped my sandwich in a thick batter I was pretty pumped that it wouldn’t just be a sandwich dipped in a vat of oil til it turned golden brown. I’m pretty sure if that happened, the bread would just soak up the oil like a sponge and you might as well have called an ambulance for me right then. Anyways, there was a thick coating of the batter on it so it took a good while to cook properly; I actually found myself getting a tad impatient as I waited for it to finish cooking.

Finally, after flipping it a few turns to a delicious golden brown color, the square brick was placed into a bowl and dusted heavily with powdered sugar. Powdered sugar is like fairground crack. You’ll see people walking around with a thin coating of it all over their faces, a rim around each nostril, or hand prints on the legs of jeans. If it was an illicit substance there would be no hiding your involvement and the generic, “I was just holding it for a friend, ” would be completely useless.

Biting into that brick was so mouthwateringly tasty that you almost forgot about the molten peanut butter that squirted out the sides and gave you burn scars a la The Joker. The popsicle stick was useless and left me hanging after attempting to pick up the sandwich only one time. From then on it was fingers or nothing. I would definitely order another, but if only they were homemade sandwiches, because mine had way too much peanut butter and I could have guzzled a fire hydrant after eating it, not to mention how many times I found my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. A count of the day’s ingested foods: 1 deep fried PB+J  sandwich, 1 Italian sausage, 1 lemonade, 1 fried dough  (OF COURSE), and 1 corndog. Yes, that day put me over the edge.

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