County fair's food goes global

"Dos pupusas!"

It's a little past 6 p.m. on Friday, opening night of the Montgomery County Agricultural Fair, and the line at Don Julio's Kitchen is 15 deep. Mark Isaza shouts out the order to his business partner, Arnoldo Ulloa, who grabs two handmade tortillas, places them in a plastic-foam container and slathers them with a spoonful of homemade salsa and a pile of curtido, a green-cabbage slaw.

"You've got to try the chorizo," insists Ulloa, a big-chested Colombian guy known as "El Parcerito" ("Trusted Friend") who tells me he traveled to a special meat shop in New York to buy it. "The filling is so unique, you've never tasted anything like it." What better time to indulge, I figure, than over my first meal at my first fair of the summer - an annual eating extravaganza that seems to guarantee every American the freedom to leave their diet at the door for at least one day - so I take him up on it. He threads the grilled Colombian meat on a long stick, lays it on top of the pupusas, and hands me my dinner.

Fresh off the stove, the thick, Salvadoran tortillas - one oozing mozzarella, the other a finely chopped pork and cheese mixture - come to life with the peppery salsa and vinegary slaw, which has just the right kick. I tilt my head sideways and eat them like tacos, the cool, watery sauces spilling down my cheek. The spicy chorizo is a showstopper. I wouldn't drive 250 miles to buy sausage, but I'm glad Ulloa did.

Before today, my memories of fair food consisted mostly of funnel cakes, corn dogs and cotton candy. That's still what you get at most food stands here, a story playing out at fairgrounds across the country over the next few weeks. In fact, put just about anything on a stick, drop it in a fryer, and people will eat it at a state fair these days: avocado (California), cheese curds (Minnesota), even chunks of butter (Texas). This summer's Iowa State Fair alone features some 54 foods on a stick, including deep-fried Ho Hos, pickles and pineapple.

The smell of fried grease hangs in the air at the Montgomery County fairgrounds, too. But a growing list of ethnic offerings puts this fair at the forefront of a more interesting, and slightly more healthful, trend. Agricultural fairs have long celebrated local food and livestock, but as America's population has diversified - and Montgomery County's is among the most diverse anywhere - fair organizers in a few states have opened up their food stands to better reflect the people coming through the doors. They're also appealing to a younger population with an increasingly sophisticated palate.

With the help of such vendors as Isaza and Ulloa, Montgomery County fair organizers have broadened their menu in recent years to satisfy the growing local Hispanic population. Hispanic or Latino residents make up about 15 percent of the county's population but represented nearly a third of last summer's fairgoers.

Four years ago, not a single vendor sold Latin food. Last year, a woman peddling homemade pupusas had one of the longest lines, says Marnie Adamson-Comanda, the fair's event coordinator. "We realized then that we needed to go bigger."

Isaza and Ulloa, whose team makes nearly everything from scratch, operate one of the larger food stands. Unlike the gaudy neon lights that many of their competitors use to advertise their offerings - Elephant Ears! Tropical Snow! - Don Julio's has a small white sign and sells a large selection of more-healthful items, including an Ecuadoran fruit salad, with fresh cuts of strawberry, melon and pineapple. In the back of the team's tent, skewers of chicken rubbed with dried mustard, oregano, pepper and parsley sizzle over a flame.

Nick Strates has worked the Montgomery County fair since 1984, when as a 16-year-old he set up a wooden lemonade stand and netted $500. Now he oversees a large Greek food booth called Demetri's, which features gyros, souvlaki and Greek salad.

Many fairgoers say the event's best dish is Demetri's gyro (another strong contender: the grilled cheese sandwich, made from aged Wisconsin cheddar, at The Big Cheese). I watch a worker slowly shave meat off one of three spits, and the spicy smell of beef and lamb waft over the counter. On top of a 7-inch pita, the gyro guy layers the fresh-cut meat with lettuce, tomato, onion and a spoonful of tzatziki. "Every year I end up getting one of these," says the woman in front of me in line, "and it never fails." After one bite, I know I'll be back next year, too.

As recently as a decade ago, many fairgoers weren't as familiar with Greek food, says Strates, a first-generation Greek American. "I'm not sure if it's a cultural thing or if it's generational," he says, "but younger people - be they white or ethnic - are buying our food."