Sausage and Peppers and Fries, oh my . . . One of the best things to do at any country fair is eat. There are hundreds of choices for every taste (please note Prospector Jack’s Oct. 6th comment about clams and turkey legs!) Some of our friends plan their visit to the fair to arrive 8am-ish for breakfast, walk around until it’s time for “elevenses”, walk some more to work off those calories, then take in a good dinner around 1:30. After spending the afternoon in the grandstands for some shows or the horse pulling, they’ll wander back to the midway food vendors for supper.
Now that we’re retired, Everett and I don’t have to get up early anymore, so we arrived about noon and had a great time wandering through the barns and seeing all the livestock while everyone else was standing in line for food. Once the lines had thinned out some, we were ready to start our shopping.
If I’m going to the fair (any fair!) I want grilled sausages with peppers and onions on a warm, soft roll – preferably hot Italian sausages. Everett’s must-have is hand-cut french fries. There’s always more than one vendor of each of these fair favorites, so you’ve got to work the booths and determine which is the “right” one. It didn’t take us long to find my sausages as we simply chose the vendor with the stool seating around the counter and the grill full of gorgeousness:
It wasn’t until they were about gone that Everett asked why we’d gotten sweet sausage instead of the hot, spicy ones this year. I’d ordered the hot ones, mine was a hot one, and I’m not sure what he thought I could do about the mix up of his at that point.
Next we debated french fry vendors. One booth was dodgy and appeared to be using frozen, pre-cut, fries. Another was cutting their own fries, but only had ketchup as a condiment, not good malt vinegar. After much searching we found a mom & pop booth with fresh hand-cut fries, the correct condiments out front, and that special scent of fair fries that you just can’t get from a fast food joint. We were excited, so parted with $8 for the jumbo bowl, doused ’em with vinegar, and ate while we walked along. “So good,” I muttered as I crunched each salty, vinegar enhanced potato bit. Then stopped dead. “Oh, Everett! You don’t LIKE crunchy fries!” Too late I’d remembered his preference for the firm but tender type – think al dente pasta. Poor Goldilocks, these fries were not just right. We left them with his sister and her EMT’s at the first aid station where I’m sure they were thoroughly enjoyed.