Anchorage Daily News

PALMER -- It sounded like a sweet assignment: Volunteer to be an exhibits judge at the Alaska State Fair.

Almost too sweet, as it turned out.

Late Wednesday night, after folks who came for corndogs and concerts had gone home, the exhibit halls at the fairgrounds filled with volunteers enlisted to give their senses a workout.

They sniffed flowers, eyeballed vegetables and tasted baked goods, pinning ribbons on the best and passing on encouragement to the rest.

My job: Help pick the winning candy entries at the Hoskins Exhibits building.

Sounds divine, you say?

Depends on your tolerance for divinity. And fudge. And peanut brittle. And caramels. And penuche. And taffy.

As luck would have it, my tolerance for sweets hovers in blue-ribbon territory, so about 90 minutes of sampling candy was, as Goldilocks might say, just right.

What got me, and my fellow judges, was the surprise job foisted upon us once we finished licking the last chocolatey candy goodness off our fingertips.

Candy is one of the smallest baked-goods categories, with many sub-categories drawing only one entry. Other judges were still eating forkfuls of cream pies, slices of quick breads and chunks of cookies as Linda Murrell, Mary Helminiak and I decided on our best-of-show awards, the final step in the judging process.

It had taken us about 90 minutes to eat and analyze all of the entries, and we were poised to head home when exhibits superintendent Joanne Berberich cornered us.

The teenagers' entries for baked goods still needed to be judged. Could we stomach the extra assignment?

The three of us, plus Sharon Hillstrom, who did the paperwork, and "runners" Allison Murrell and Lyndsey Nichols, who kept us supplied with water, wet towels and plates filled with samples, sat down at a table and went back to work.

This time, there was candy, brownies, cookies, quick breads, yeast breads, pies -- you name it. It all added up to another hour of eating. By the time we were done, it was almost midnight, and our sugar levels were about as high as the top seat on the Ferris wheel.

"We used to be here till, like, 4 o'clock, there was that many entries," said Allison, a 22-year-old from Palmer who's been a state fair entrant and volunteer since she was little. "You'd go home, shower, then go to work.

"On the plus side, after this much sugar, you're ready to work."

Berberich, 73, has been part of the baked goods competition since 1971 and took over as superintendent of the contest in 1990. She works the exhibits hall like a drill sergeant gone soft, enforcing strict guidelines with a pleasant, forgiving manner.

Up until recent years, there were so many entries that judges routinely stayed till 3 a.m. Not as many people enter these days, either because too many of us let Carrs or Costco do the baking, or too many of us are too busy with other things to spend a day in the kitchen over a bubbling saucepan of butter and sugar.

"The number of entries is down dramatically," said Linda Murrell.

Which means bakers both experienced and novice should take note: There could be ribbons (and prize money!) waiting for you at next year's state fair. In the candy competition, only about two categories had more than three entries, meaning almost everyone who entered won a ribbon. Same with the teenagers' contests.

This piece of information has me thinking my chocolate chip cookies might be award-winners -- although, as Linda noted, "chocolate chip cookies" is possibly the most popular of all categories.

"I did children's cookies once," she said, "and there were about 80 of them, it seemed like. There were probably only 50 of them."

Notice how she used the word "only" there? That's the sign of a veteran state fair judge. Nobody but an exhibits judge would dream of using such a qualifier when talking about eating 50 cookies in one sitting.

Find Beth Bragg online at adn.com/contact/bbragg or call 257-4309.