All’s Fair in love and biscuits: A first timer’s perspective on the Mississippi State Fair

By Claudia Amendoeira | Originally published by Mississippi Today

Dogs draped in American flags jump through hoops, little kids wrestle to catch free biscuits flying through the sky, and a giant pink and purple teddy bear sits down at a table like it’s about to eat lunch.

Welcome to the 167th Mississippi State Fair, where I learned that everything can be fried, put on a stick or both at the same time.

It’s nothing like the Santos Populares, the traditional street festival in Lisbon, Portugal, where I grew up. We eat sardines, dance to pimba folk music and toast to Saint Anthony with Sagres beer.

This fair is bigger, more extravagant, more kitsch. In other words, it’s American. Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the USA” blared through the loudspeakers as I strolled the fairgrounds, feeling like Dorothy in the Land of Oz.

Kelly Shannon, public relations specialist at the Mississippi Department of Agriculture and Commerce, met me at the entrance to the fair, handing me a biscuit oozing with cane syrup. As a reporter, you don’t usually get to participate in the events you cover. But this time it would be different.

Shannon took me to the back of “Biscuit Booth,” where Aguster Lewis whisked flour off her apron. Lewis has been baking biscuits at the state fair for over 30 years. She’s now the manager of the Biscuit Booth, where Mississippians can get free biscuits in between Sky Screamer rides and Fetch N Fish dog shows. Last year, they gave out over 110,000 biscuits in the course of 12 days.

The tradition was started by late Agriculture Commissioner Jim Buck Ross in the 1970s after taking inspiration from a biscuit booth at the Missouri state fair. Despite its long-standing history, there is still room for innovation: This year for the first time, veterans and active-duty military can get a “Brisket Biscuit” for free.

Lewis mixes, kneads and folds. One bag of flour makes 75 biscuits — each of which should be half an inch thick. If the biscuits in a batch are too small, they go in the trash. Pro-tip: If you come back to the Biscuit Booth enough times during the fair, Lewis will give you a goody bag of biscuits to take home.

With a full stomach, I make my way to the show ring with Agriculture Commissioner Andy Gipson, where children wrangle their sheep around and around. I am incredibly amused at how regal and luxurious the sheep look with the tufts of fur around their legs.

The Mississippi State Fair began in 1859, two years before the Civil War, when a group of farmers decided to have a fair to see who had the best cows, hogs, goats and sheep. Today, at over 100 food vendors and over 10 daily shows, it’s a far-cry from the small, informal cattle show it once was. But its agricultural heart remains the same.

“Farmers are the first ones here, and they’re the last ones to leave, because this event is theirs,” said Gipson as he walked me through the livestock barns, gliding much more skillfully through the straw and animal muck than me.

We strike up a conversation with a farmer from Wiggins, who is amused at how little I know about cows, livestock and anything farming. He introduces me to Mr Wxc Long Haul Jim, one of White’s Crossing Cattle’s most prized bulls, who is nurtured all year around to win all the blue ribbons at the fair.

His dedication reminds me of Jack Jones from Blackburn Syrup, who told me that “biscuits are eaten with cane syrup and not maple syrup, and to please get it right in my article because maple syrup is produced in the northeast and therefore not local at all.” To me, these men embody the best of the fair: the beautiful craftsmanship that keeps Mississippian traditions alive.

Having moved to Mississippi after a year living in New York City, a place where life happens on street corners and in subway cars and firescapes, it was hard to adjust to the silos of suburban life. It felt strange that living was often saved for the inside of homes and cars, and I missed third spaces. I missed the unexpectedness that can happen when strangers come together. But at the fair, Mississippians have no option but to be on foot. And the best part about third spaces in Mississippi is that no one really feels like a stranger.

The way I see it, stereotypically American symbols fall into two categories: ones that have become partisan and corrupted to some (the flag) and ones that are still generally harmless and neutral (Stanley cups, air conditioning and ice – that’s “ice” in lower case). An all-American state fair falls into the latter category. It’s nothing but family, giggles and funnel cakes.

As the day drew closer to an end, I put my camera away, sat down next to a “fried Oreos” sign, and felt wistful. After all that unabashedly Americana fun, returning to real life seemed unappealing. I wasn’t the only one who thought so: A little girl with butterflies painted on her face cried while her mother dragged her toward the exit. 

This article was originally published by Mississippi Today and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.

Source: Original Article