Welcome to Yucking Your Yum, a new Eater series in which highly opinionated Eater staffers skewer popular and beloved foods, trends, and of-the-moment-obsessions, explaining why we simply don’t get the hype.
Every September, everyone in my home city of Dallas is all atwitter because, as the temperatures (slightly) cool and football season begins, so does the State Fair of Texas. A staple of the Dallas community since 1886, the State Fair has transformed from its origins as a celebration of agriculture into a fried food bonanza with carnival games and a place to stuff yourself silly with fried Oreos and corny dogs before inducing a little nausea on the Tilt-A-Whirl. But as for me and my house? We will stay as far away from the state fair as humanly possible.
As a (mostly) lifelong Texan, this is a secret I have long held close to my chest. For six years, as the editor of Eater Dallas, I feigned excitement and dutifully documented the fair’s deranged new offerings every single year. One year I wrote about funnel-cake-flavored beer; another brought the monstrosity that is Deep Fried Froot Loops, a dish that involves wads of dry cereal and icing that are battered and deep-fried. I would try these grease-drenched creations with as open a mind as I could muster, and inevitably I would be disappointed. It turns out that chucking any and everything into a deep-fryer is not actually a way to make things better.
And to be clear, I am not opposed to these oil-laden foods for health reasons. I don’t care what anyone puts into their bodies, but it’s time to stop pretending that state fair food is good. It’s all heavy and one-note, too sweet or too salty, and always too messy for the flimsy paper boats it is served in. My biggest gripe, though, is exactly how greasy these dishes almost always are, especially when you’re talking about something like a deep-fried Oreo. The breading on the exterior soaks up so much oil that you can practically wring them out, and that’s just gross.
I distinctly remember taking one bite of a cotton candy taco, the 2018 winner of the Fair’s Big Tex Choice Awards, and immediately throwing it into the trash. Who on earth decided that a glob of cotton candy stuffed inside a waffle cone was worth eating? Buddy the Elf? More annoyingly, I paid around 12 bucks for that sugar bomb wrapped up in a textural nightmare, which brings me to the second-worst thing about state fair food: the cost. It is, like any other captive audience event, eye-wateringly expensive, each order of fried food costing as much as (or more than!) $20. That’s an absurd amount of money to pay for most dishes, especially ones that aren’t even satisfying.
There are many legitimate reasons to loathe the State Fair of Texas — a history of racism, the impact of the annual event on other year-round businesses in its neighborhood — but my gripes are mostly petty. I hate to wait in lines, especially for the privilege of paying $28 for a turkey leg, and being surrounded by the thick crowds gives me anxiety. At the very least, you would think the food would be a respite from that chaos, but nope — the State Fair of Texas wants me to try to figure out how to perfectly balance a squiggle of mustard on a corn dog while navigating a throng of sugar-drunk children in search of the Midway.
I do not begrudge fair fans their love of these two weeks in September, but I do think that they deserve better food at fair prices. And there are legitimately good things to eat at the State Fair — Fletcher’s Corny Dogs and those pricey turkey legs among them — but they’re often overshadowed by the gimmicky eats that ultimately disappoint. Maybe it’s time for the fair to go back to its roots as an advocate for Texas agriculture and serve its 2 million yearly visitors some locally raised beef and showcase the offerings of farmers in the region. Keep the deep-fryers, just put something a little better in them!
I also wish things were better for the people who work at the State Fair of Texas, many of whom are hired on a temporary basis and are paid very low wages. They’re not offered benefits and have to put up with tons of drunk fairgoers, all while the vendors who employ them — and the State Fair itself — rake in big bucks. The entire thing feels a little exploitative, and when you pile that on top of the mediocre eats and the steep prices, it all adds up to one big bummer.
I know there are state fairs other than the State Fair of Texas, and I imagine that I would hate them all. My loathing extends to the entire concept of fair food, the idea that you need an annual event to excuse paying a ton of money to gorge yourself on fried mediocrity. No thanks.
