Fair job is an acquired taste

We go along with two veteran baked-goods judges at the fair and discover the perils of their job.

By ROBERT KING

© St. Petersburg Times, published January 28, 2001

BROOKSVILLE -- At first glance, Harriet Neal and Claudia Hendry appear to have the best jobs on the planet: official judges of the baked-goods competition at the Hernando County Fair.

And, indeed, tasting apple pies, turtle brownies and chocolate-chip cookies isn't exactly like mining coal, riding a jackhammer or sweeping up after circus elephants all day.

But, believe it or not, there is a lot of punishment involved in spending 41/2 hours swallowing samples of nutmeg cupcakes, peanut butter cream pies, cow splashes, cucumber muffins and Rice Krispies treats.

Together, Neal, 59, and Hendry, 67, have been judging the fair's 4-H youth baking competition for the past five years. They are the Siskel and Ebert of junior baking in Hernando County. But they say the job has its hazards.

When a St. Petersburg Times reporter responded skeptically to their moaning about the dangers of sugar overload and the perils of eating ingredients put together by 10-year-olds, they challenged him to join them in their annual tasting ritual, held Wednesday and Thursday.

Forced into a corner, he accepted.

Neal and Hendry say the keys to successful judging are:

(a) small bites, (b) a liter of bottled water and (c) a sense of humor. And one final note: Unlike wine tasting, there is no spit bucket. What goes in, must go down. It is a hazard of the job they solemnly accept.

To spend much time at the baked-goods judging table is to confront the subtle effects of sugar poisoning.

During the first hour of tasting, the only real symptom is a warm numbness of the tongue that results from foraging on an endless conveyor belt of chocolate-chip cookies. Hint to next year's contestants: COME UP WITH A FRESH FLAVOR!!!

Soon, there is a detectable chocolate buzz, which is accompanied by odd gurgling noises from the abdominal area.

After two hours, your hands become jittery. It becomes increasingly hard to sit still. You feel genuine concern that your heart might stop at any moment.

It is at this stage, after ingesting a particularly rich and tasty (chocolate) cow splash, that Hendry pauses. "I took too big a bite," she says regretfully. "What am I going to do?" she wonders aloud. Then she answers her own question: "Go home and purge."

By the end of the third hour, after sampling 54 high-fat, high-calorie delicacies, Neal and Hendry called for an overnight halt to the proceedings. "I'll never eat again," Neal says.

Even the heartiest chocolate lover, the most ravenous pie eater or the most dedicated peanut butter cookie monster would struggle at the fair judging table. It is a place where blood-sugar levels reach frightening highs. "Here, you are not eating out of choice but because you have to," Hendry said.

It is a bloated, artery-clogged feeling that lingered till Thursday morning, when the tasters reconvened for 90 more minutes needed to digest the final 39 entries.

Neal and Hendry, both members of the Hernando County 4-H Foundation Board, took on this task on a volunteer basis. The only perk, as they see it, is the plate of leftover goodies they each take home at the end of the tasting.

The purpose of the competition, Neal and Hendry explain, is to encourage the county's youth in their exploration of the culinary arts.

Everyone gets a ribbon. Blue is for excellent work. Red is very good. White is good.

Then there is the appropriately colored green "participation" ribbon. It is reserved for those entries that meet none of the entry guidelines or that seem purposefully aimed at doing harm to the judges.

The only green ribbon handed out this year was awarded to a lone slice of burned bread, presented with no card describing its recipe.

It was doomed from the start. For breads to be considered, the contestant must furnish at least half a loaf. One slice won't do. And every entry must be accompanied by the recipe card. That way, if it causes serious illness, the emergency room doctors know where to begin with their treatment.

Along with the ribbons, each food item gets a nice -- and original -- comment from the judges. And here is where Neal and Hendry burn their calories: Thinking up something nice to say about burned brownies and coming up with unique descriptions for each of the 10 entries in the Rice Krispies treat division.

Their deliberations are lively, and far more brash than the comments that wind up on the cards given to the contestants.

A three-layer carrot cake that collapsed on itself seemed to be more a carrot swamp than anything else. In their discussions, Hendry's most flattering comment was: "There's way worse." But it earned a white ribbon and the remark: "Flavorful. Could use more baking time."

Toffee bars were a nice change of pace. But they turned out to be flavorless. Hendry, considering what was good about them, said: "We didn't die." Still, the toffee bars leave with a red ribbon and the comment: "Good appearance. Could use more flavor."

Butterscotch brownies, as crafted by one hapless teen, turned out to be as flat as floor tile but not as tasty. They also had the misfortune of being the 86th item to appear before the judges.

"Why waste your calories?" asked Neal, when there are so many more rich flavors in the world. It gets a white ribbon. "We're getting brutal," Hendry said.

As much as they savor their tart exchanges, Neal and Hendry are generous with the blue ribbons. They cut enormous slack, especially to the youngest kids. They take into account that most of the items are at least two days out of the oven. And they will give a red (for very good) ribbon to just about anything they can swallow.

And some of the items are truly a delight to behold. A lemon meringue pie from the fair four years ago lives on in their dreams. This year's favorites included a loaf of herb bread (heavy on the oregano) that left them begging for a plate of olive oil to dip it in.

As the tasting comes to an end, Hendry raises her arms in triumph. By now her blood flows as thick as molasses, her dentist has her sized up for a fluoride treatment and the organ thumping is warm in an extra layer of winter fat.

"We should be ready for a heart attack any minute," she says.

If you go

Anyone attending this year's Hernando County Fair can view the entries in the 4-H youth baking competition. All of the entries are on display inside McKethan Auditorium on the fairgrounds. The fair runs through Feb. 4.

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