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Will I eat the ketchup and mustard ice cream again? Probably not. But I appreciate its existence.

The ketchup and mustard soft serve has been hyped for almost two weeks leading up to Friday’s opening of the CNE, which returns after a two-year hiatus due to the COVID-19 pandemic (and amid a safety inspector strike).

More than the rides, more than the entertainment, in the last decade, the food is what gets the headlines.

When I first tweeted about the existence of the ice cream a few weeks ago, people responded with vomit emojis or comments of “gross.” (Spoiler alert: it tastes more like vanilla ice cream with a faint hint of a condiment. As another food writer described it at the media preview Wednesday, it’s like “when you lick a bit of mustard from the side of your mouth.”)

To truly understand the food at the CNE, one needs to get into a certain mindset. The food is supposed to match the chaotic, garish and over-the-top energy of the Midway rides, flashing lights and giant stuffed animals. This food can only exist when served steps away from the Polar Express or the Crazy Mouse coaster.

“The rules are different for fair food,” says Andrew Galarneau, food editor of The Buffalo News daily newspaper, and former souvlaki slinger at the CNE’s Mr. Greek booth in 2008.

“You are celebrating. This is splurge eating. You’re going to try things once for the excitement. There are merry-go-rounds and roller coasters, and these are thrill rides for the mouth … Why eat food you can get elsewhere the rest of the year when you have this tiny window to get weird, get wild and maybe find a new love?”

He recalls the hit of last year’s Erie County Fair being the Bomb Cob, a Americana-themed corn cob encrusted in blue Takis, red Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and white cotija cheese.

“I would try the ice cream,” says Galarneau. “This is not like developing a long-term relationship with a food product. This is like a short summer fling. Fair food is a sensory souvenir from that one time of the year. You can’t get the same thing with a souvenir tote bag.”

Take ketchup and mustard, two staple Midway condiments. Combine them with the ultimate summer dessert, the soft-serve cone, and you have a treat that encapsulates the season and the junk food flavours (and vibrant colours) of the Midway. It’s textbook camp in that it relishes (pun intended) going against what’s perceived to be good taste, much like the CNE itself with the blaring music, fries served in buckets, and the haunted house ride.

“People love ketchup and mustard, so why not put (them) in an ice cream?” says Samantha Swift, co-creator of the treat, which costs $10 and comes in options of ketchup, mustard or a swirl of both. “It’s important to us that it’s not just phone-worthy but also that it tastes really good and you can eat the whole thing. There’s an itch for an experience, something new, something different with flavours that you already like but might not think to put together. The infusion of the flavours work really well.”

Introducing a more gourmet flavour, like a dark chocolate and sour cherry swirl, would feel out of place. Sure, it’s guaranteed to be delicious, but it’s a safe flavour and doesn’t match the low-risk thrill of being at the CNE (notwithstanding the Cronut burger food poisoning incident of 2013).

Plus, as someone who is continually disappointed by new menu items trotted out by North American fast food franchises (Tim Hortons is currently promoting maple bacon breakfast sandwiches … groundbreaking), and is jealous over what’s available overseas (the McDonald’s in Singapore currently has a Laksa Burger), the CNE is the city’s annual chance for me to let loose.

“The appeal of the food is that it’s a novelty food in a novelty environment,” says Minnesota-based food writer Doug Mack, who runs the Snack Stack food history newsletter, and once timed his wedding so that out-of-state guests could also attend the annual Minnesota State Fair, one of the largest in the U.S. “There are the rides, the animals, there’s a llama costume contest. I’m going to a place that’s different from my everyday lived experience, and the food is a part of that. I’m not looking at food with the same eyes.”

After the pandemic hit, Mack’s parents tried to recreate the fair in their backyard, turning a refrigerator box into a Tunnel of Love ride and recreating some of the snacks. “It was better than nothing but it didn’t scratch the itch,” says Mack. “I wasn’t walking around a crowd of people, I wasn’t smelling the goats or surrounded by lights swirling around and kids running around. The lack of that sensory overload that makes fair food taste better … When you take that food out of its natural environment, it doesn’t have the same flavour.”

I had the same feeling two years ago when the CNE released recipes for rainbow grilled cheese and dessert poutine to make at home. Already feeling weird eating a food dye-soaked grilled cheese in the middle of the afternoon at my home kitchen, something else felt off.

“It’s not something you eat alone. You go (to the fair) with a group. You bring your little cousins and neighbours. It’s a collective experience and a lot of food is meant to be shared, like a giant turkey leg that you can’t finish by yourself, or if it’s something weird you pass it on to see if someone else would like it,” says Folu Akinkuotu, author of the Unsnackable newsletter that highlights snack foods around the world.

Like Mack, Akinkuotu attended the Minnesota State Fair growing up as far back as she can remember. Even though she lives in Boston now, she times her summer trips back home around it.

“I don’t want to spend $9, $12 for two scoops of kind of weird ice cream, so you’re sharing it and trying a bunch of things with others,” she says. “One of the iconic Minnesota State Fair things is just these big buckets of chocolate chip cookies and the smallest size you can get is a cone of 40 mini cookies. Not being able to share it diminishes the experience.”

Akinkuotu adds that Midway food can’t be judged on the same level as restaurant food because the vendors have limited access to equipment, the staff are often teens working summer jobs in sweltering weather, and they have to sell hundreds of the same item every day. “It’s a pretty hard challenge to solve. You don’t have a full kitchen but still manage to be innovative.”

So when returning to the CNE this year, don’t think about the culinary experience like you would when sitting down at a neighbourhood restaurant or going to one of the many excellent dessert shops in the city. Instead, see how the flashing bulbs on the Zipper bounce off the paper plate, feel the vibration from the speakers as you bite into a corn dog and smell how the sweet wisps of cotton candy in the air pair with the aroma of steamed corn on the cob.

The Ex is back after a two-year absence, why not wake up your taste buds with a deep-fried, sugary bang?

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