We hadn’t even made it 20 steps into the Delaware State Fair before the evening announced exactly what it was going to be.
One of the first signs we saw advertised Pickle Dr Pepper.
Not pickles.
Not Dr Pepper.
Pickle Dr Pepper.
My son, Maxwell, looked at me with the excitement that only a fair can inspire. “Dad, can I get one?”
Somewhere inside my chef’s brain, the responsible adult whispered, “This is probably a terrible idea.” The father in me answered, “Absolutely.”
He took one sip, his face froze and he looked at me in complete disbelief. “Why did you let me order this?”
I couldn’t stop laughing.
Truthfully, I didn’t hate it. The sweetness of the Dr Pepper against the salty, vinegary pickle was surprisingly interesting. I wouldn’t go out of my way to order another one, but I happily fished the pickles out of the cup while Maxwell decided one sip was enough.
It was the perfect way to begin the evening because that’s exactly what the Delaware State Fair is: a place where curiosity wins. It was also the perfect prelude to the reason we had come in the first place: to see “Weird Al” Yankovic.
As I walked through the midway, it dawned on me that Weird Al and the state fair have a lot in common. Neither is interested in subtlety. Both celebrate excess, nostalgia, humor and the simple joy of not taking life too seriously. Weird Al has spent more than four decades taking familiar songs and twisting them into something delightfully absurd. The fair does much the same thing with food: pizza on a stick, deep-fried Oreos, pickle pizza, Pickle Dr Pepper and pineapple soaked in Kool-Aid.
Somehow, it all makes perfect sense because the fair isn’t trying to be refined. It’s trying to be fun.
The Delaware State Fair is one of my favorite places in the state because it engages all your senses at once: the flashing lights of the midway, music drifting from every direction, and the smell of grilled onions, kettle corn, barbecue smoke, fried dough and sweet cream competing for your attention. It’s decadent, chaotic and, for one week each summer, exactly where you’re supposed to be.
Before the concert, Maxwell and I grabbed a slice of pizza from one of the mobile kitchens. As a chef, I can’t help but peek behind the counter. I noticed a Hobart mixer tucked into the corner and a Bakers Pride deck oven baking fresh pizzas. The dough was clearly being made from scratch, something you don’t always expect at a fair. The crust was a little softer than I typically prefer, but the sauce and cheese were balanced, fresh and satisfying. Sometimes, a simple slice eaten while standing in the middle of a fairground is exactly what the moment calls for.
We were stoked to see the lights dim.
Puddles Pity Party opened the evening. He is a towering, melancholy clown with a voice of nostalgic, psychedelic gold. It was bizarre, theatrical, incredibly fun and moving all at once.
When Weird Al took the stage, the crowd was ready.
I’ve always admired Weird Al as an artist. If you look past the parody, he is an incredibly talented musician and a class act. The costume changes, videos, band’s energy and audience singing every lyric reminded me why his concerts have endured for generations.
Looking around the grandstand may have been just as entertaining as watching the stage. Children, grandparents, teenagers, families and lifelong fans wearing Hawaiian shirts were all laughing together. In a world that often feels divided, it was refreshing to see thousands of strangers sharing the same jokes and singing the same songs.
After the concert, we still had a little time before heading home, so naturally, we kept eating.
Our first stop was a chocolate-dipped waffle cone rolled in chocolate sprinkles and filled with chocolate soft serve. It was everything a fair ice cream cone should be: crunchy, creamy, cold, sweet and wonderfully over the top.
Maxwell decided another slice of pizza was calling his name while I wandered toward a taco trailer. From the outside, it looked like another colorful stand among dozens of others, but one look inside caught my attention. The kitchen was remarkably clean, the staff moved with confidence and the organization behind the counter reflected real professionalism. Then I spotted the trompo, a vertical spit slowly roasting marinated meat. Now I was paying attention.
I ordered a carne asada taco and a lengua taco, both served simply with chopped onion, fresh cilantro and a bright green salsa. They were outstanding. If you’ve never tried lengua, don’t let the name intimidate you. It has an incredibly rich beef flavor and a silky texture that makes it one of my favorite taco fillings. If someone served it to you without telling you what it was, you’d probably think it was one of the best beef tacos you’d ever had.
It reminded me that even amid all the delightful chaos, there are people quietly practicing real craftsmanship.
Then, of course, we finished with pineapple soaked in bright red Kool-Aid. Only at the fair could fresh fruit become candy with such unapologetic enthusiasm. It was sweet, tart, vividly colored and completely unnecessary, which is exactly why it belonged there.
As we walked back to the parking lot, still laughing about Weird Al and replaying favorite moments from the night, I thought back to Maxwell’s first sip of Pickle Dr Pepper.
The fair had given us exactly what it always gives us: a few surprises, a few laughs, a couple of things we’ll probably never order again and a few things we’ll look forward to every summer.
Templeton the rat said it best in “Charlotte’s Web” when he called the fair “a veritable smorgasbord.” As a child, I thought he was only talking about food. As an adult, I realize he was talking about something much bigger.
The Delaware State Fair is a smorgasbord of people, traditions, music, craftsmanship, agriculture, memories and, yes, some wonderfully strange things to eat.
You arrive expecting a fair. You leave remembering the wonderfully weird.
