Playing hooky during the week is great. Playing hooky on your birthday is even greater. I wanted to spend my birthday at the LA County Fair – during the week with no crowds. It was just Donna and me and whatever we felt like seeing, drinking, eating, petting, riding, and drinking.
Did I say drinking?
In the five years since I’d been to the fair I noted two major changes. First off – somebody from Vegas must have re-designed all the food stands. Giant billboards with lights, lasers, and video screens promote all things deep fried and barbecued.
I expected to see acrobats swinging above them using their mouths to pass turkey legs. 
Second (and most importantly) the fair has gotten on board with the emerging craft brew scene. We came across a beer garden area that served over 20 local brews. Normally I wait until at least cocktail hour east coast time to enjoy a drink, but hey – it was my birthday, so we bellied up under the enormous shade and partook in some people watching while sipping a cold Honey Blonde Ale. 
Something to soak up the brew sounded reasonable and a giant pickle caught my eye. This place sold a Pickle Dog – a hollowed out pickle, stuffed with a hot dog, battered and deep friend like a corn dog. I pulled out a ten spot. “About four minutes” the girl promised. Ten minutes later, as my taste buds wondered when the second beer was coming, she told us it would be another four minutes. I looked inside the trailer and saw somebody pull an uncooked pickle dog from the frying oil. “Evidently we’re having trouble with the equipment” she finally admitted. Needless to say, I got my ten bucks back. Oh well, maybe in 2016…
Stacked mesquite firewood and a smoking grill the size of an Escalade caught our attention next. The wafting smoke smelled of turkey, sausage, brisket, and something that looked like a bacon-wrapped chicken kabob – the healthiest thing we’d seen so far I might add. “We’ll take the bacon wrapped chicken” I said to the nice girl behind the counter, who’s face suddenly displayed confusion. “Those” I pointed to the grill. “Oh, those are bacon wrapped pork bellies” she corrected. I figured if God didn’t want me to consume a fat gram crammed Pickle Dog, he’d find a way to prevent pork bellies from entering my system as well. Donna and I settled on sharing a bacon wrapped sausage, which was plenty for two and commenced our plan to share so we could try more things.
The powers that be decided the Los Angeles County Fair should take place during the hottest month of the year, so many visitors find relief in the exhibition halls, AKA the “shopping” area. These air conditioned bunkers of immediate gratification feature adjustable beds, super blenders, vacation “deals” to places warm and humid, and thousands of other goods and services of which need is debatable.
A seasoned consumer like me has learned how to master this type of situation. By using common sense and discipline, I can get through the gauntlet without buying a thing.
Unless it’s the Dumpling Master.
While avoiding eye contact with a woman offering samples of chipotle seasoned almonds, I noted the yellow and red banner off in the distance. My heart pounded at the thought of a machine that made dumplings. Making them by hand is too much work and that’s why I trot down to my favorite Shanghai restaurant anytime I get the craving – except at three in the morning. If my mouth waters for the juicy morsels then, I have to wait. But with this machine – the Dumpling Master – I’d wait no longer.
In a slight trance, I headed toward the banner. Certainly within weeks I’d find the darn thing at Costco for half the price, but that wouldn’t stop me from slapping down my Visa card today. Lordy Mama, I got goose bumps in anticipation of seeing the Wonka-like wonder machine. I imagined dropping flour, water, and a handful of ground pork in one end while steamy packages emerge from the other.
I picked up speed and I weaved through the crowd only to come upon a woman whos motorized wheelchair had skidded to a stop in front of a vendor selling an afghan weaving contraption. I nearly somersaulted over her into a whirling seven-person spa, but managed to maneuver my upper body around her and my legs miraculously followed. I sprinted on toward my goal, avoided aggressive hands pushing brochures at me – babbling scripted come-on lines – their voices faded as I raced toward the invention that would allow me to enjoy freshly made dumplings in my pajamas.
I slid to a stop within mere inches of the Dumpling Master. I stood there bewildered – like Julie Andrews taking in the Von Trapp mansion for the first time. There were no little machines with blinking lights, no pressure meters, and no tiny conveyer belts. Dumpling Master wasn’t a thing, it was a food stand.
My disappointment was short lived as a familiar aroma of deep fried rice paper seduced me. What also got me was the prices. Outside everything cost at least ten bucks, here they offered three or four egg rolls or dumplings for half of that! My wallet begged me to fill our tummies with something from this clean and tidy-looking little operation. The tall bespectacled girl behind the register was a pretty good sport about answering my shotgun load of questions about their variety of Asian food – especially from where it all orginated. She told me China, but she might have thought I asked where she was from, because I asked her which region and then it seemed her head was about to to explode. I studied the plate of dumplings being delivered and noted they were smaller and browned, much like Japanese Goyza. Something called Taiyaki was on the menu, but without the typical photo. I asked her to show me some, but she shook her head and politely told me they were made to order. She described them instead: “fish filled with sweet red bean paste.” An odd combination, I thought. but hey – this is the fair so all’s fair. To the chagrin of the fish-resisting Donna, I decided to give it a whirl. We discovered Taiyaki is basically sweet Japanese bean cake baked in fish-shaped molds. Donna was happy. Both of us were happy. It tasted great – reminding us of those old school, first generation pop tarts – mouth burning hot and all.
We agreed to spend an hour walking around to burn off what we’d eaten and generate our appetites again. Ten minutes later, we came upon the Texas Donut vendor who sold bacon and maple topped donuts, Reeses topped donuts, and donuts filled with soft ice cream. “We’ll come back”
Meanwhile, we stumbled upon a place that I’ve ignored all these years, but at this softer age of my life, it appealed to me: The Flower and Garden Pavillion. I’d heard it was designed after a church in Brazil. The high ceiling can facilitate a water fall. It was such a sight to see the array of colors and way the varieties of flowers were arranged, it warmed my heart. Adjacent to the building was a man-made rain forest that also served as a group air conditioner.
All that sensitivity brought my hunger back and we headed to the Mexican Village. There King Taco had a stand. Once again we found a relatively great deal on food. They had traditional tacos – meat, onions, and cilantro atop little corn tortillas – about three bites each for $1.99 a pop. We got three (Carnitas, Carne Asada, and the spit-barbecue style El Pastor). We and found a table under a tree and enjoyed the flavorful treats while studying a bunch of young moms and kids in strollers.
After a day of sampling and resting, and sampling and resting, we returned to the Flower and Garden area where wine and beer tasting were in full swing. Donna is the wine enthusiast of the family, but could not decide. At this point our brains were overloaded. The “aoooGAA” sound of a horn beeping outside got our attention where a parade was starting – classic cars, high school bands, and general merriment. We grabbed two freshly available seats at a covered pavilion and had a front row view. I noticed a bar and jumped up from my seat. “Surprise me” Donna said, and I got her a Jack and Sprite which delighted her. I sipped my pilsner and we watched a good old fashioned parade stroll by with a backdrop of a giant ferris wheel, sky slide, and plunging thrill rides. Ah, this was the fair – my fair. What a great way to celebrate another year of life with the one I love.
