In theory, anyone with a small garden or a knack for baking can enter the Wisconsin State Fair’s amateur competitions. These showcases, a staple at any American fair, celebrate the efforts of everyday citizens by judging their radishes, their pies and their quilts and crowning the best of the best. But if you want to win a ribbon – those purple, pleated, synthetic treasures – you’ll have to push your craft beyond a casual hobby.
In the horticulture and culinary divisions, the bulk of entries are made up of just a handful of individuals who do exactly that. Every year, they enter dozens of categories and spend months refining recipes and cultivating gardens to put themselves in the best position for a prizeworthy result. Everything else is up to luck.
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Good fortune is crucial when it comes to horticulture, subject to the whims of nature. “With the heaviest beet or rutabaga competition, you’re just hoping and praying that it turns out to be the heaviest one,” says gardener Barb Berner. “You really can’t do much in that regard. You just hope it beats out whatever your competition is.”
Berner, 72, has competed in the State Fair since the 1980s and began focusing on horticulture in 2008. She and her husband, Jim, grow over 160 items for competition – mostly flowers, herbs and vegetables – in five gardens at their Dousman home.
Just last year alone they won, among others, best bok choy, orange carrots, celery stalk, kale, both kinds of summer squash, 10 categories of thyme, and the tallest basil.
Berner takes stock of the soil, seeds, sunlight, natural pollinators like bees and deterrents for pests. Planning can begin as early as Christmastime for the Berners, but much of the planting takes place between March and June. From then until harvest, it’s constant maintenance. Even a short time away can be detrimental, like when the Berners returned from a two-day trip to lost crops. “It pretty much takes up our summer,” she says.
Milwaukee bar owner Brian Kohler, 58, takes off two weeks before the fair to knock out his cakes, frostings, dips, soups and more in the culinary division.
“It’s my staycation,” he says. Months before then, he’s taste-testing with bar patrons and staying organized with what he calls his “State Fair bible,” a large binder packed with the year’s recipes. “Within my own social circle of friends, I’m known for the State Fair now.”
The obsession began with two canning entries in 2017. “It was a little intimidating, because a lot of these other competitors had been doing it for years upon years,” Kohler says. Watching the judges at work and explaining their conclusions expanded his knowledge and confidence. Last year, he won 22 ribbons, including first-place for a rocky road cheesecake for which he made his own marshmallow fluff. “That’s what I always try to do now – how can I punch this up to the next level?”
Kohler felt welcomed as a newbie and became friends with a few competitors, who now meet for breakfast every year after drop-off. “It’s still a competition, and people do take it very seriously,” he says. “It’s like Best in Show.”
After 28 years and many ribbons, Marilyn Kosina, 83, is entering only two items for her final competition: a bundt cake and a cheesecake, her most frequent bake. “It’s too much pressure; I’m getting too old for this,” she says. At the same time, “it’s exciting.” In straightforward categories like zucchini bread, Kosina puts in whatever she likes – as long as it turns out well. “If you can get a recipe with something weird in it, that catches the judges’ eye.”
Some categories demand a peculiar brand of creativity. One year included a showdown of mashed potato sundaes – spuds made to look like ice cream. Kohler once created a “snow globe” cupcake with sugar glass, and he has worked his bartending background into several entries, such as his cosmopolitan-inspired jelly.
Other competitors pour their efforts into one entry. “One man, all he entered in each show was garlic,” Berner says, “He grew 300 garlic to get one perfect garlic.”
Getting your haul to the fair can be a frenzy. Competitors are allotted a brief window of time before opening day to deliver and label their items. “One year, I didn’t get out there quite fast enough, and I actually had police escort me off the fairgrounds,” Berner says.
Forgotten veggies and dropped goods are commonplace. Kosina once got to the door of the building when her cheesecake slipped and fell to the ground. “I was surprised I didn’t get upset,” she says. “I mean, what are you gonna do?”
Considering the pressure and chaos for bragging rights and a modest cash prize, why do they do it? “I like to torture myself,” Kosina says. “You have to want to do this, and you have to like doing it.” An outsider’s chances of winning aren’t nil – one of Kosina’s first-timer friends once entered a Reuben and took first place.
For Berner, who grew up participating in 4H, “entering fairs is just always something I’ve done,” she says. “We’re not bored in our retirement, that’s for sure.” Kohler says he enjoys improving as a cook every year, but what keeps him coming back is the unrelenting competition. “I’ll be honest: I love a good ribbon.”
