Calling all bargain hunting bakers and cooks!

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The Fair is coming to a close, and on its heels, the school week is nipping. Some kids have already gone back to school, and the rest should see the yellow bus come Tuesday morning. You have this great need to make sure they're ready, prepared for the year ahead of them so that they may become the best student possible. When they graduate from high school with a 4.0 and honors up the wahzoo, a cadre of smart and ethical friends who never get in trouble, with a sense of purpose and all-around drive, you pack them off for college and think: they are prepared, I have done my job, I can rest easy. And then you get a call at 6:28 a.m. from Mr. 4.0 who reports that at 3 a.m., he fell out of his loft and landed on his arm. And broke his wrist. On the third day of classes. In a whole other time zone. So this Fresh Forkin' Friday I'm saying: You're never done. Unless you pack bubble wrap.

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Yesterday was a strange day at the MN State Fair, what with power outages and potentially scary weather, and for me, numerous shuttle bus rides and media appearances. But I did manage to get some snacking in, so I just wanted to let you know what was what, in case you're still headed out and haven't read the 642 other posts about fair food. 

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Holy. Pronto-pup. It's The Great Minnesota Get Together edition of Fresh Forkin' Friday! (And I know y'all missed me last week, mwah.) So I wish I could just go to the Fair every day and cover all the food, and ride all the rides, and skip-to-my-lou around the stroller mafia, but I'm not Jason DeRusha, for crying out loud. Mama's gotta bring home some of the paper bacon. So here's just a smidge of advice for those packing their fanny-packs and heading out . . .

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I get back from vacation and the first thing I hear is that Tim McKee has been seen on the line at Il Gatto. Not just once, in what might be a guy checking out his old stompin' grounds, but many times. And during the rush, no less.

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In the fresh shadow of Target Field lies Joseph F. Palen Restaurant Equipment, and if you go on a grey autumn day you’ll feel something wicked creep up the nape of your neck. It’s a bunker of a building; the wares inside grow into it like mushrooms, stacks of NSF tables teeter in a Seusssical way.  

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It's time for the local corn festival in my berg. I remember riding my bike up to the church on the Friday night before the festivities, helping to shuck hundreds of ears. I'd host a marauding gang of girls at my house for the whole weekend, because I was just down the block from the fest. Sometimes we'd volunteer to work one of the game booths for a teenager who wanted to go smoke, in exchange for a liter of pop, of course. This year, one of my own teens will be working the Culver's stand, plying the throngs with custard and his Culver's smile. It's an all-you-can-eat deal, pay for a hand stamp and eat corn til you can't. Last year, sitting on the grass with butter and salt dripping down my arm from ear  No. 3, it occurred to me how great it would be to have a little cotija cheese and mayo mixture, plus maybe a little Rooster sauce to kick it elote style. Maybe this year I can get the Culver's kid to hold a little stash in his custard cooler.

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So. There's this part of me that thinks I could pull off a Fringe Festival act. How about a one woman show on a kitchen stage where I cook actual food while monologuing about all the crap that I've burned and all the feasts that I've flopped over the years. By the end of the show, everyone's expectations would be so low, that I could probably stun them with a nice tomato soup. Hopefully there'd be more applause than throwing of cauliflower, but you never know. Until then, I'll just keep being a patron I think. Here are my picks for some fringey love for the food set.

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Yesterday was patio prime, with the cool breezes and beautiful sunshine. I found myself at a "meeting" with Steven Brown on the patio of La Chaya. I hadn't been back there in some time, probably since it first opened, which is the curse of the food editor . . . always seeking the new with hardly a breath to return to the well established. But as we sat kibbutzing (Did you see Malarky opened Searsucker? Have you eaten at Trevail yet? Where's the next Frugal?) sipping one of the best micheladas I've had in a long time and snacking on squash blossom quesadillas that were both floral and savory, I was very grateful for the depth and breadth of our local food scene. Chef Juan came out and we all chatted about Chuck Taylors and shuffling kids with work and then he sent out a habanero sauce that lit my lips on fire. It was a worthy night in south Minneapolis. This Fresh Forkin' Friday, I think you should find a patio.

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The brothers Pilrain, the boys behind Roma Restaurant, Bar and Market in Willernie, MN, are hoping to finalize a deal to open Patriot's Tavern in the Liberty Village neighborhood of Stillwater. The spot they are eying is what used to be the Liberty House Cafe and Creamery . . . And there's a vote for beer in Minneapolis tomorrow!

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