Outgoing critic Rick Nelson on how to eat your way through the State Fair

For 21 consecutive years, I devoted the first day at the Minnesota State Fair to taste-testing every new food item. After my foodfest, I'd race back to the newspaper and crank out a story that ranked each new delicacy, from best to worst.

In 1999, that was an easy assignment. There were maybe a half-dozen newcomers, which made for a no-pressure day and doubled as prime one-on-one time with my mother, who proved to be an enthusiastic assistant.

Within a few years, the fair's leadership seemed to notice that there was an appetite for new foods, and they began to up the ante. Sixteen newbies in 2005 grew to 23 in 2008.

Although Mom was the definition of a good sport, that scale grew to be too arduous for her, and she gracefully bowed out. For the past decade or so, I enlisted the company of my brother Todd and his two sons, Nick and Noah, and in the ensuing years we'd hit new-foods numbers that peaked, insanely, at 60 in 2015.

Our last year together, in 2019, was a fairly crazy 53. I hope they enjoyed themselves as we made our hectic race through the fairgrounds, buying, consuming, photographing, tweeting and note-taking for 10 go-go-go hours before I'd say goodbye, head to the newsroom and dig in for a long night of writing.

The latest I ever remained at my keyboard was 4 a.m., and I was back at my cubicle at 7:15 to help make the 11:30 a.m. deadline for the Saturday print edition.

Fun.

I loved the sense of discovery; the fair always announces a list of "official" new foods ahead of time, but the nosy reporter within always strove to shine a spotlight on at least a dozen off-the-books items.

And I loved feeling like an honest-to-goodness newspaperman, gathering facts and working to beat the clock against the printing plant's ever-present deadline. I even kind of loved the very odd sensation of carrying around $600 in $20 bills, although the tedium that was compiling my post-fair expense report was another matter.

I'm moving on to a new job at the Star Tribune, which means that I won't be returning to my first-day-at-the-fair food gig when the Great Minnesota Get-Together opens on Thursday. And neither will many others, as the pandemic is playing a major role in fairgoing decision-making.

But I imagine that many who do go will be creating their own Best New Fair Foods eat-athon. (If you're staying home, there's always next year.) Have fun, follow CDC guidelines, and consider the following suggestions:

Go early. Mornings are the best times to enjoy the fair. The weather is generally more genial, and it can feel as if you have the fairgrounds to yourself. Gates — and some vendors — open at 6 a.m., and most are cooking by 8.

Another plus? On opening day, the yet-to-be-trampled fairgrounds are looking their absolute best.

Create a map. During my taste-testing years, the ever-increasing number of new foods meant that I had to cover a great deal of ground with maximum efficiency. That meant charting my itinerary, in advance, on a map. For those on a Great Minnesota Pig-Out quest, I suggest doing the same. I'm old-school-analog, so I always created a paper map (using one that I'd printed from the fair's website), but a self-guided tour could easily be programmed into a smartphone.

Graze lightly. This is no time to embrace membership in the Clean Plate Club. If the goal is to enjoy as many different fair delicacies as possible, limit your intake to a single bite. Two, if you really love it. That's it. Which leads to ...

Travel in a group. My method had me taking a photo, taking a bite, taking stock, taking notes and then tossing the rest of the item before moving on to the next vendor (other, more frugal fairgoers would often be aghast as they watched me pitch some mostly uneaten on-a-stick treasure into a trash bin). But you don't need to let anything go to waste. In other words, share. That's what friends and family are for, right? Another tip: At especially busy stands (Nordic Waffles in the West End Market, I'm talking to you), send a member of your party ahead to snag a place in line.

Hydrate. Drink lots and lots — and lots — of water (a top-rated fairgrounds freebie is the cool H2O at the Culligan booth on Dan Patch Avenue and Cosgrove Street) to counteract the consumption of vast quantities of sugar, sodium and saturated fat. Yes, water. When it comes to beer, save your deep dive into the fair's zillions of novelty brews for another visit, and it's best to keep the soda and all-you-can-drink-milk consumption to a minimum. Remember, a Dairy Building or Kiwanis malt doesn't qualify as hydration.

Buy admission tickets in advance. It's deflating to arrive at the fairgrounds, raring to eat up a storm, only to discover you have to wait in a long queue at the gate to purchase an entry ticket. Skip the line by pre-purchasing tickets ($13) through Aug. 25 at mnstatefair.org or at nearly 70 metro-area Cub stores.

Take a seat. Spy a table and chairs? Grab them, and relax. With my deadline I had to hustle, but you don't. It's rare to encounter comfortable dining amenities at the fair — this is primarily a stand-up operation — so take advantage when possible. Noteworthy rest stops include the well-appointed patio behind Giggles' Campfire Grill (Cooper Street and Lee Avenue), the shaded seats at Blue Moon Dine-In Theatre (Chambers Street and Carnes Avenue), the prime people-watching picnic tables that surround the Blue Barn and the second-story rooftop setup at LuLu's Public House (both in the West End Market).

Skip the Skyride. It may be tempting to escape the crowds, save time and jump on a convenient cross-fairgrounds overhead gondola ride, the fair's version of rapid transit. But for those who are able, walk. It's best to take every opportunity to burn as many calories as possible. Think of it this way: For every 10,000 steps, you've earned a Pronto Pup.

Spread the word, wisely. Yes, you'll want to flood Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and TikTok with your fairgrounds food finds. Here's a word of advice: Don't forget a charger and/or power adapter. The power drain is real.

Pack an antacid. The reason why should be abundantly clear. The forgetful can drop in on Steichen's Market (a fairgrounds tradition for 80-plus years), located near Clough and Liggett streets.