I approached a group of young women at the Wisconsin State Fair.
"What can you tell me about Wisconsin dairy?" I asked one, who drew back, startled. I hastily pointed out that her green shirt had, "Ask me about Wisconsin dairy" in big letters across the back. Maybe nobody ever takes them up on the offer.
"California has more cows..." she began — true, with 1.7 million dairy cows, it leads the nation in milk production. Wisconsin is second, and obviously, that shortcoming weighs on folks here. "But Wisconsin cows are happier," she claimed, explaining that it's because their sources of feed can be grown locally.
To be honest, the cows did not look happy. They were sprawled on the floor, facing away from the crowd. I would have gone with "aloof."
We were standing at Dairy Lane on Saturday evening. Not my usual weekend entertainment choice. But my future second daughter-in-law (the older son got married in July) has people in Wisconsin, and wanted to go to the fair with her fiance. My wife and I were invited along so of course we went — how could you not?
The central fair activity is eating. My plan was to hold back, consider my options. But we almost immediately encountered the Milk House, offering $1 cups of milk. How could you not? It would be like going to Rome and skipping the pasta. I was disappointed that all the milk on the menu is flavored — salted caramel, strawberry cheesecake, root beer. "Don't you have milk-flavored milk?" I asked. No, they did not. We opted for cookies and cream, which turned out to be frothy and delicious. "Damn good milk!" I reported back.
My strategy was to share — a couple bites of my wife's corn dipped in butter, a quarter of my son's Dirty Chai Cinnamon Roll Lumpia (a Filipino spring roll). A bite of shepherd's pie on a bun. A deep-fried cheese curd. A deep fried shrimp. It adds up.
My only selection, other than milk, was a charcoal grilled brat from the Sheboygan Brat Haus. How could you not?
I was keen to visit the animal barns, remembering the solemnity of the farm youth showing off their animals at the Illinois State Fair, how they tend to ignore the expensive fun goings-on around them. We watched a presentation of pigs strutting proudly. At the sheep pens, I recounted what I consider the best question I ever asked in my professional journalism career ... here, I can quote from the 2015 column:
"I had never spoken with a sheep farmer before; as we talked, my attention was drawn to a solitary black sheep in a nearby pen.
"'The black sheep . . .' I asked, keeping my face arranged in an expression of serious inquiry. 'Do they pose any particular behavior problems?'
"She smiled. 'The black sheep do not behave worse,' she said. 'They're actually pretty well-behaved.'"
Speaking of behavior, the fair was mobbed, and despite all the clamor about society ending, people waited patiently in line and generally conducted themselves in a civilized manner. One guy wore a "LIBERALS SUCK" t-shirt, and t-shirts at the vending stalls often expressed sentiments that boil down to, "I'm hot to shoot you."
But not too many Trump hats. Which could be a sign — maybe his core is starting to feel shame, at long last. Then again, one woman carried several Trump lawn signs across her shoulders, so maybe not.
The Illinois State Fair opens Thursday and runs through Aug. 18. Wisconsin's, which opened Aug. 1 and runs through Sunday, has several advantages — it's an hour from Chicago instead of the three-hour drive down to Springfield. It's also generally about 10 degrees cooler in Milwaukee than in Springfield.
Plus the Wisconsin State Fair has the Original Cream Puff — I'd read about them, but didn't understand what the fuss was about. I'd only considered cream puffs metaphorically. Apparently there is no choice, my future daughter-in-law informed me, leading us to the vast puffetorium, jammed with dozens of people waiting in line. They were waiting for the day's specialty flavor — a new feature to honor the puff's centennial at the fair. We ducked outside to a much shorter line and bought a box of three regular puffs for $14.
My half a cream puff was very fresh and good and ... invigorating. The pastry part wasn't much — on the soggy side — but the big mound of whipped cream was a revelation. If one purpose of culture is to learn new things, I certainly learned a thing or two at the Wisconsin State Fair. California is the dairy capital of the country, and Original Cream Puffs are really, really good.
