My first experience judging a food contest at the Puyallup Fair left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Innocently, or rather stupidly, in 2004 I agreed to judge the parent-child gingerbread house contest. 

I received a free ticket into the Fair, a parking pass, a nametag and enough angst to choke a Holstein.

The other two judges and I sat at a long table on the second floor of the Pavilion. We nibbled on each house, conferred on architectural design elements, and snuck extra bites when no one was looking.

In front of us stood, anxiously, the contestants — mostly moms holding the hands of their excited and hopeful elementary age sons and daughters. The cuteness factor hit 100.

After I cast my ballot, however, I saw the handwriting on the wall as if it were a hot, steamy jam-packed scone thrown at the, er, wall. Moments before we were to announce our choice for first place, I leaned into the judge to my right and said, “This can’t end well.”

When we announced the winner, the other five doe-eyed children, who didn’t win, cried.

I wanted to do the same.

Monday night, the season of food contests at the Western Washington Fair began for the umpteenth season. Once again, children will cry, homemakers will feel vindicated or demoralized, and judges may or may not get sick. It’s all good fun that stretches back through centuries of community fairs across the globe.

 

People who enter baking and canning contests speak passionately about their creations.

Corine Kirscher of Auburn believes her cherry jam stands a good chance to win at the Puyallup Fair this year.

“When I go out to breakfast I take jars of my jam for people to taste,” Kirscher says. “People loved the cherry jam.”

Kirscher’s list of wins runs long. She even made the Sure Gel Hall of Fame with her strawberry-blackberry jam.

“I’ve been making jam for 40 years,” she says proudly. 

Kirscher bakes too. She won “best biscotti” the first year she entered.

“A friend said my biscotti was just a plain Jane but I entered anyway and won,” she adds without admitting she later rubbed the first place ribbon in her friend’s face.

Kimberly Arnold of University Place enters her creations year after year at the Puyallup Fair — often in several categories. Many of her 11 children have done the same. The ribbons and awards in the Arnold Family run the gamut from breads to pies to even the Spam Carving contest.

It may go without saying the Arnold clan participates heavily in 4-H.

“I grew up in the Midwest with 4-H,” Arnold says. “I’ve always entered in fairs.”

Her secret to success? 

“Follow the rules — check to see what the specifics are. Plan several months in advance. Find originality. And it needs to taste good and look appetizing.”

Don’t judge me

Stephanie Hagarty-Moening judges baking and canning contests at fairgrounds across the state, as well as, when time allows, enters them too. Her husband did the same until his death last year.

Hagarty-Moening loves the competition, the recipes, the camaraderie, but she hopes to avoid the chocolate contests for the rest of her life.

 

A particular chocolate-avocado soufflé she judged in Monroe a couple of years back took every ounce of effort for her to swallow while still smiling in front of the crowd. Thirty-minutes later she and the other judges all vomited.

“It’s sort of become a legend at the Monroe County Fair,” Hagarty-Moening laughs.

Hagarty-Moening says most competition is friendly, however, she runs into cheaters from time to time. Canning contests are judged by look not taste. Therefore, canners have been known to pack their fruits in gasoline, for example, because the color looks brighter. Others may under process their canned meat to limit cell damage.

“I tend to think if they need validation that badly, let them have it,” Hagarty-Moening adds.

As for official protests from losers?

“In 20 years of judging I haven’t had one,” Hagarty-Moening says. “I’ve heard complaints and moaning, but nothing formal.” 

She’s even had adults cry. “They usually need validation,” Hagarty-Moening says. “They may be homemakers who can to feed their families and want to prove they are good mothers, or they are craftsmen looking to create a work of art.”

 

Kirscher says she doesn’t even say a word to the judges if she loses. “It’s just for fun — I don’t get torqued anymore.”

Though one particular wild blackberry jam loss that took hours to pick and prepare still sours her stomach.

“I thought it was so good,” she adds. “The judge took a bit on a spoon and never tasted it. It hurt my feelings. But, I got over it.”

Full circle

Which now brings me to Monday night. I returned to the fair’s Pavilion as a judge on opening night of the food contest season, this time to sample the Ghirardelli Chocolate entries (I was promised no kids).

 

Eighteen adult contestants submitted their chocolate creations. Most of them tasted delicious, and I had the chocolate high and sick stomach to prove it. I don’t believe anyone cheated, and after the winners took their prizes, I didn’t see anyone crying. Score one for the grand tradition of culinary competition.

Think your recipe kicks butt? Several culinary competitions remain open this Puyallup Fair. Visit the fair’s web site at www.thefair.com for details.