A restaurant located near our firm, OH Pizza + Brew, features this sign about its dessert options in the restaurant’s front window. To some, no doubt, the phrasing seems odd. But to anyone who has been to the Ohio State Fair, and has eaten “fair food” along the midway, a reference to “fair style” desserts conveys a powerful message indeed.
What is a “fair style” dessert, exactly? Typically, it has multiple characteristics. First, of course, it must involve food stuffs that are bad for you, prepared in a way that accentuates their unhealthy impact. That means desserts that are fried, that are high in sugar, and that include components from Dr. Nick’s “neglected food groups” pyramid shown on a classic Simpsons episode.
Second, the dessert must be excessive. That means the portions must be huge—think of a piece of fried dough as big as a dinner plate—and the dessert must features unholy combinations that push the caloric content off the charts. Fried Snickers bars on top of ice cream in fried dough might be one element, for example, but you’re going to want to add, say, pieces of candied bacon dipped in chocolate, whipped cream, drizzled caramel, and then drop M&Ms and Reese’s Pieces on top, just to give the concoction a real fair flair.
And finally, a true “fair style” dessert must be plausibly, if messily, portable, and capable of being consumed by someone walking on a dusty path between ancient rides like the Tilt-a-Wheel. That means handheld options, like red hot elephant ears doused in powdered sugar and the covered with other goodies that will leave your hands gross and sticky for hours, or desserts that can be wedged into a cheap cone or flimsy paper bowl that will immediately begin to dissolve as the dessert quickly melts in the summer sun.
That’s what a “fair style” dessert means to me, at least. I haven’t been into OH Pizza + Brew to see what they offer. Frankly, I’m kind of afraid to check it out.
The first show was about a grossly obese, bed-ridden woman with a husband and young son who had an operation to try to become normal-sized. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the discipline to change her habits and do what was necessary to lose the weight, despite having a no-nonsense doctor who wouldn’t coddle her or sugar-coat the health problems she was causing for herself. We followed her as she was shuttled between hospital room and home, being lifted by teams of paramedics, watched her tears and efforts to blame the lack of weight on her scales, and were treated to embarrassing footage of a person encased in enormous rolls of fat, unable to stand for more than seconds at a time, arguing that she was a better mother than a working woman who spent 10 hours on the job. 
I admired the straightforward nature of the name. The moniker told you everything you needed to know about the character. It was just some guy — probably a teenager looking to make a few bucks during the summer break — walking around in a cheesy looking cow costume, getting his picture taken with Fair food-stoked kids at the behest of their doting parents. Man + cow costume = Cowman. Never mind that cows are, by definition, female, so that “Cowman” is a complete non sequitur.
In the livestock barns, 4-H kids will be showing animals they have raised and fed and tenderly cared for since birth. The poultry pavilion will be a cacophony of cackling and quacking and honking by often-exotic looking fowl. Delicious fresh ice cream and milkshakes will be sold at the dairy building, next to the traditional butter cow and butter calf. Other buildings will house concession stands that hawk garage sale items and curious products you normally see only on TV. On the Midway, there will be vomit-inducing rides and a rich display of tattoos. And everywhere there will be 
In the race to try to deep-fry every concoction known to man, we’ve reached a pinnacle (or possibly nadir) of sorts: 
There is one area, however, where the Fair evolves rapidly and missing a year can be crucial. I’m speaking, of course, about Fair food. When we first started going to the Fair, you looked for corn dogs, a slice of pizza, a wedge of pie, caramel apples, cotton candy, and salt water taffy. Over the years, elephant ears, funnel cakes, and the proudly advertised yet plainly described “fried dough” were introduced to great popular acclaim. Then came developments like the Hot Roast Beef Sundae, the 84-ounce “Lemon Shake-Up,” which consists of ice, a lemon, and a cup or so of sugar, and other monuments to healthy eating.
Webner House 