Foreward
The last U.S. Worldâs Fair bombed so spectacularly that there hasnât been another in 40 years. The 1984 Louisiana World Exposition was so ruinous that its New Orleans organizers declared bankruptcy not after, but during, its run.
If you havenât heard of a Worldâs Fair before, itâs likely because youâre not a Boomer or Gen Xer. Before they fell out of fashion, a Worldâs Fair could feel like EPCOT and Disneyland combined. This analogy is especially astute, as Walt Disney himself created four attractions for the 1964 Worldâs Fair in Queens, NY, including the iconic Itâs A Small World ride and a precursor to the Magic Kingdomâs Hall of Presidents.
Going further back, London's Crystal Palace was the centerpiece of the first Worldâs Fair in 1851. The pavilion resembled a massive greenhouse, fashioned from prefabricated cast-iron and glass sections. Similar showpieces followed, with a Crystal Palace knock-off in Manhattan in 1853 and the first Ferris Wheel in Chicago in 1893. The eventâs planners saw the latter as a response to the 1889 Paris Fair, which had the Eiffel Tower as its purpose-built attraction.
These architectural and engineering marvels werenât the only icons of the Worldâs Fairs. While the initial purpose of the exhibitions was to show off innovations at a time of significant industrialization, the Fairs also grew into cultural exchanges. And thatâs how they came to introduce or popularize some of todayâs most ubiquitous foods.
Popular food and drink and their Worldâs Fair connections:
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Heinz ketchup [popularized]
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Hot buttered popcorn [popularized]
Cracker Jack [popularized]
Hot dogs [popularized]
Brownies [introduced]
Juicy Fruit chewing gum [introduced]
Aunt Jemima pancake mix [introduced]
Cream of Wheat [introduced]
Shredded wheat [introduced]
Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer [popularized]
*Renamed the Pearl Milling Company in 2021scription text goes here
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Instant coffee [popularized]
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Item descrCotton candy [introduced]
Ice cream cones [popularized]
Hamburgers [popularized]
JELL-O [introduced]
Peanut butter [popularized]
Iced tea [popularized]
Dr. Pepper [popularized]
Club sandwiches [popularized]iption
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Puffed wheat/puffed rice cereals [introduced]
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Item dBelgian waffles [introduced]
Egg rolls [popularized]
Chow mein [popularized]
Kimchi [popularized]
Sushi [popularized]
Fondue [popularized]
Tandoori chicken [popularized]
Churros [popularized]
Falafel [popularized]
Sangria [popularized]escription
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Cherry Coke [introduced]
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Cajun & Creole Cuisine [popularized]
Muffaletta [popularized]
Bananas Foster [popularized]
While the 1876, 1893, and 1904 Fairs were consequential in their contributions to the American diet, the 1939 and 1964 New York events put food front and center in ways no U.S. Fair had. Though the 1893 Fair in Chicago had food makers on display, they were scattered throughout the fairgrounds. With the New York Fairs, food and the companies that produced it had dedicated spaces.
In 1939, a massive food building, a smaller exhibition area, and an adjacent food zone with brand-focused facilities were present. Itâs here that Borden demonstrated its strides in cow-milking technology, and Kraft used machinery with human-like âfingersâ to package its Philadelphia-brand cream cheese. Continental Baking similarly showcased how Hostess Cakes and Wonder Bread were made in a polka-dotted building reminiscent of the latterâs wrapper. The company even planted an entire field of wheat in the rear.
Perhaps foreshadowing the widespread use of psychedelic drugs, 1964âs Better Living Center featured a dramatically lit hall with surreal scenes celebrating the nationâs achievements in aquaculture, agriculture, and horticulture. Its displays included winged lobsters, bejeweled avocados, and a waterfall of roses that spilled into the desert.
In addition to this unique experience, a more conventional World of Food pavilion was planned. It was intended to showcase corporate entities like Miller Brewing and Wise Potato Chips. However, due to financing issues, the partially built five-story structure was razed two weeks before its official opening. With traditional American foods consigned to the individual state pavilions, hungry fairgoers had greater reason to sample international delights like chow mein and kimchi.
According to The Washington Postâs Phyllis C. Richman, the only safe bets in Knoxville at the penultimate 1982 Fair were the cole slaw and biscuits. Depending on how you feel about barbecued neckbones and pickled pigsâ feet, it could be a blessing that America is no longer hosting Worldâs Fairs.
Itâs not for lack of trying, though. There was an effort underway by a Twin Cities suburb to secure the 2027 Expo, but Serbia won out. The mind, however, boggles when thinking of what food fads Minnesota couldâve given us. Porketta sandwiches? Tater tot casseroles? Walleye on a stick?
Philadelphia (1876)
Heinz ketchup
The second U.S. Worldâs Fair, Philadelphiaâs Centennial International Exposition, commemorated the 100th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. While the time and place were incredibly synergistic, so was the connection between Philly and ketchup.
Thatâs because, in 1812, local scientist James Mease developed the first-known ketchup recipe that featured tomatoes (then known as âlove applesâ for their supposed aphrodisiac qualities). A major difference between his concoction and the condiment we know today was the absence of its vinegary tang.
Ketchup, however, pre-dates both Mease and tomatoes. Its roots go back to imperial China, where documents dating to 300 BCE mention fermented pastes derived from soybeans, meat by-products, and fish entrails.
Speakers of the Southern Min dialect called the fish sauce âkĂŽe-chiapâ or âkĂȘ-chiap.â Guaranteed not to spoil on long voyages at sea, this version of ketchup was preferred by Hokkien Chinese sailors and introduced to those in ports of call along the Indian and Pacific Oceans.
By the late 1600s, British traders had acquired a taste for the condiment. Its arrival in their homeland led to a wide variety of mutations, including pastes made from mollusks, mushrooms, walnuts, lemons, plums, or peaches.
Regardless of the base, these recipes were either boiled until thick and syrupy or mixed with salt. Both processes had the same result: a highly concentrated form that was shelf-stable for long periods.
At the 1876 Centennial Exposition, 30 years after Measeâs death, entrepreneur Henry John Heinz showed off his take on tomato-based ketchup in the Fairâs Agriculture Hall. Though both menâs recipes had commonalities â namely, tomatoes and spices â Heinz preferred vinegar over brandy and added brown sugar.
Heinzâs modest booth put his fledgling business on the path to success, thanks to over 10 million Fair attendees. The fledgling H. J. Heinz Company was the 32-year-oldâs second business endeavor. His initial foray saw him bottling his motherâs horseradish recipe.
While he subsequently expanded into pickles, mustard, and fruit preserves, Heinz saw his first company fail in the wake of the Panic of 1873. By 1876, however, Heinz was back in business, having received financial backing from his brother and a cousin. Fortunately for him, the second time was the charm.
Speaking of charms, that segues into Heinzâs second appearance at a Worldâs Fair. The company returned for the 1893 Columbian Exposition in Chicago, which drew hundreds of thousands of visitors daily. While The H.J. Heinz Company had the largest commercial food booth at the Fair, it was relegated to a no manâs land â the Agriculture Buildingâs second floor.
Understanding that people wouldn't bother to climb the stairs without an incentive, Heinz leveraged his shrewd marketing skills. To drive traffic, he hired local youth to blanket the fairground with gilded tags, entitling recipients to a free souvenir when redeemed at his booth.
So many clamored for a pickle-shaped pocket watch fob that a line formed down the stairs, and police were summoned to maintain order. Reportedly, the second floor began to sag due to the unexpected crowd and had to be shored up. Heinz gave away over a million pickle charms by the end of the five-month-long fair. Emblazoned with his last name, the tchotchke provided Heinz with free advertising long after booth visitors had returned home.
This tactic was but one example of Heinzâs savvy. To compete against companies like Hunts, Heinz committed to only using the highest-quality ingredients. He sourced the best tomatoes available and processed them at the peak of freshness. Heinz also implemented strict production standards that guaranteed every ketchup bottle offered a uniform taste and texture, something many competitors couldnât match.
Although it may seem like a small thing now, perhaps Heinzâs most notable innovation was the introduction of clear glass bottles. In an era when spoiled ketchup could surprise consumers, this literal transparency â and airtight seal â gave buyers the impression of a high-quality product.
Heinzâs commitment to quality culminated in the company winning two gold medals for product quality and factory conditions at Parisâ Exposition Universelle Internationale in 1900. Ooh la la.
Chicago (1893)
Hot buttered popcorn & Cracker Jack
Anyone who claims popcorn first appeared at a Worldâs Fair will undoubtedly face challenges from those with Native American or Mesoamerican ancestry.
Historical records show the Great Lakes Iroquois popped corn in heated crockery as far back as the 1600s. Thanks to discoveries in the late 1940s and early 1950s, we know that flint corn â the popping kind â has been grown in North America since approximately 2000 BCE.
Popcorn and the Fairs didnât seem to converge until the late 19th Century. Thatâs when receipts confirm popcorn vendors paid for concession licenses at Philadelphiaâs 1876 Centennial Exhibition.
However, some exciting developments in popcorn innovation were showcased at 1893âs Columbian Exposition. First and foremost, Charles Cretors demonstrated his steam-powered popcorn machine to those strolling along the Fairâs Midway Plaisance. His contraption â which looked like a steampunk baby buggy â was inspired by a peanut roaster heâd modified after becoming disillusioned with its intended function.
Unlike other popping equipment at the time, Cretorsâ invention distributed heat evenly so more kernels would pop. Until then, almost all popcorn was made in wire baskets over an open flame. It was also hand-seasoned with butter and salt, resulting in a snack that was either soggy or too dry. Cretors provided a workaround, as his machine popped kernels in a blend of butter and salt for a more uniform taste and texture.
Cretorsâ seasoning hack wasnât his only contribution to increasing popcorn consumption in the U.S. He also added wheels to his popcorn machine, making the snack readily available to the masses. Previous set-ups werenât as ingeniously mobile as Cretorsâ wagon. Within a decade of Cretors hauling his popcorn machine down to Jackson Park, similar wagons appeared outside silent movie theaters across the country.
While many theater owners initially viewed the aroma of popcorn as an unwelcome distraction during screenings, most came around. During the Great Depression, operators realized a 5- or 10-cent bag of popcorn could be the difference between solvency and ruin. When one such theater owner, Glen Dickinson, Sr., learned that popcorn was more profitable than movie tickets, he purchased farmland and began raising corn.
Just as popcorn and the movies have become synonymous, people often associate Cracker Jack with baseball. Yet the song âTake Me Out To The Ballgameâ wasnât written until 1908. While lyricist Jack Norworth is responsible for making Cracker Jack part of our popular culture, its launch pad was the 1893 Fair.
Cracker Jackâs creator, German immigrant Frederick âFritzâ Rueckheim, was lured to Chicago more than 20 years before the fair to help clean up the Great Fire of 1871. Rueckheim invested $200 in a pre-existing popcorn stand shortly after his arrival. He eventually bought out his partner and recruited his brother Louis to help grow the operation.
Over time, the brothers experimented with different complements to their popcorn. An early molasses-and-peanuts version is what reportedly debuted at the Fair. Like Cretors, they werenât an official vendor, so verifying the brothers were there is difficult. Itâs probable, though, as the Chicago History Museum confirms the Rueckheims had established a three-story factory on S. Clinton Street by 1893. Current Cracker Jack owner Frito-Lay also asserts the brothers were selling their product to throngs of fairgoers.
In an interesting twist, the doubters â like Northwestern Universityâs Bill Savage â are also right when they argue Cracker Jack wasnât at the Columbian Exposition. In one small way, it wasnât. The name, a synonym for excellence, wasnât registered until 1896. Before this, Cracker Jack was simply known as "Candied Popcorn and Peanuts." Catchy, huh?
Hot dogs
âGreat minds think alikeâ isnât just an adage; itâs a literal fact. No less than five men came up with whatâs now known as the hot dog.
The man who gets the official credit is Charles Feltman, yet another German immigrant. While thereâs a story about how Feltman sold his frankfurters from a modified pie wagon, historian Bruce Kraig says thatâs likely untrue.
Though Feltman was a baker who once owned a pie wagon, he was also a restaurateur. The Oxford Encyclopedia of American Food and Drink states that Feltman began selling his âred hotsâ on Coney Island in the early 1870s.
While public records show many men sold hot dogs in the late 19th Century, the men who popularized the hot dog were all at the Columbian Exposition in 1893. Two of them, Austro-Hungarian Ă©migrĂ©s Emil Reichel and his brother-in-law Samuel Ladany, had secured a concession stand in the âOld Viennaâ section of the Chicago Fair, conveniently located by one of the Midway Plaisance entrances.
The hot dog bun seems to be a later invention, as Reichel and Ladany purportedly served their âVienna sausageâ in a French roll topped with mustard and onions. Their mixture of beef and spices was considerably milder in flavor compared to the sausages Feltman sold at the time. Though there are no sales receipts, the Fair itself had over 27 million attendees.
Reichel and Ladanyâs success at the Worldâs Fair encouraged them to found the Vienna Sausage Manufacturing Company that same year, which was ultimately renamed Vienna Beef in 1929. If youâve ever passed a hot dog cart in Chicago, youâve likely seen the companyâs garish logo.
The 1893 Fair also propelled another family business with a familiar name. Oscar Mayer and his brother Gottfried supplied many of the Fairâs sausage vendors and were an official sponsor of the German display. While the two Germans started their company as a North Side butcher shop, they too moved into manufacturing after the Fair.
Given the Germans and Austrians mentioned above, itâs certainly reasonable to assume that the names commonly associated with hot dogs â frankfurter and wiener â are derived from two cities renowned for their prized sausages, Frankfurt and Vienna (Wien). And for what itâs worth, no one at the 1893 Fair called hot dogs âhot dogs.â
For many years, it was widely believed that sportswriter and New York Evening Journal cartoonist Tad Dorgan coined the term hot dog. He was supposedly at a New York Giants baseball game when he heard a vendor pushing his âred-hot dachshunds.â Itâs said Dorgan doodled a wiener dog in a bun, which he labeled a âhot dogâ due to his inability to spell dachshund.
Itâs a nice story, but there are two problems with it. One, Dorgan wasnât living in New York when he was supposedly at the game. And two, thereâs no record of the cartoonâs existence despite the widespread availability of Dorganâs work.
The name is more likely the result of snarky college kids. Students at Yale University had taken to calling lunch wagons âdog wagonsâ because they believed that the frankfurters contained dog meat.
Entomologists Dr. Gerald Cohen, Barry Popik, and David Shulman wrote a monograph about this, sharing that they found a reference to âhot dogsâ in an 1895 issue of The Yale Record. The term quickly spread to other colleges in the northeast, including Harvard, Cornell, and Princeton.
One wiener purveyor, Billy Adams, was clearly in on the joke as he named his vending business the Yale Kennel Club. His wagon was adorned with paintings of various dog breeds, but primarily hounds and dachshunds. The Kennel Club was also decorated with stained glass art featuring even more dogs.
Yale students apparently referred to the stained glass as âmemorial panels.â Should you ever doubt the value of an Ivy League education, let this anecdote change your mind.
Brownies
When you think of fair food, you probably donât think of a slice of cake. However, it was the first thing socialite Bertha Palmer thought of.
As chair of the Expositionâs Board of Lady Managers, she asked her pastry chef at the Palmer Hotel to create a small cake-like dessert for the boxed lunches distributed at the Womenâs Building.
In response, pastry chef Joseph Sehl created a proto-brownie that the Palmer Hotel still serves today. Dense and fudgy â courtesy of eight eggs â Sehlâs âchocolate barâ wasnât as sweet as modern brownies despite being topped with an apricot glaze.
Interestingly enough, Sehlâs then-nameless dessert wasnât referred to as a brownie prior to 1898. The brownie name was likely inspired by author and illustrator Palmer Coxâs popular sprite characters, The Brownies, which first appeared in 1883. The Brownies had an enormous cultural impact at the time, inspiring the names of the Girl Scoutsâ junior division and Eastman Kodakâs portable film camera.
Bringing this all full circle, the Brownies visited the Fair in the 1892 story âThe Brownies In September.â They came to Chicago to assist with the construction and were disappointed that the Womenâs Building had already been completed. Itâs too bad they didnât stick around for dessert.
Aunt Jemima pancake mix & Cream of Wheat cereal
Convenient breakfast foods were a big deal at the 1893 Fair. Unfortunately, they were served up with a hearty portion of Old South romanticism.
It all began in 1888 when Chris Rutt and Charles Underwood started operating a small grist mill in Missouri. Although neither had a culinary background, they began developing a pancake flour formulation that only required the addition of water. This âinnovationâ was intended to help them repackage and sell their excess flour.
After some trial and error, they settled on a blend of wheat and corn flour, salt, and lime phosphate (which acts similarly to baking powder). While Rutt and Underwoodâs creation was revolutionary enough to see their business acquired within a year, it was a former slave from Kentucky who made their mix a fixture in kitchens across America.
Rutt was inspired to rethink the branding of his one-time âSelf-Rising Pancake Flourâ after seeing a minstrel show where men in blackface sang about Old Aunt Jemima. However, it was the Pearl Milling Companyâs second owner â R.T. Davis â who brought the âmammyâ to life.
In a booth meant to mimic the shape of a flour barrel, Nancy Green served pancakes to fairgoers while singing and telling sanitized stories about her life on a Southern plantation. These tales were inspired by the elaborate backstory featured in a pamphlet Davis had commissioned.
In it, Aunt Jemima was characterized as a former house slave for one Colonel Higbee, a fictitious Louisiana man whose plantation was known for fine dining. As the story goes, a former Confederate general who fondly remembered her pancakes put her in touch with Davisâs company, which paid her in gold to oversee the construction of a factory that would produce her pancake mix.
Fairgoers quite literally ate this story up. So much so that Fair officials presented Green a special award for showmanship, while Davis received as many as 50,000 orders from eager distributors.
The character of Aunt Jemima proved so popular that paper dolls appeared on boxes of pancake mix. There were dolls for Jemima, her husband Mose, and their four children, Abraham Lincoln, Dilsie, Zeb, and Dinah. Of course, in a sign of the times, a racial slur for African youth was used in place of the word âchildren.â
These paper dolls depicted the family both before and after the sale of her famous recipe. The âpresaleâ dolls featured everyone in tattered clothes, while the âpost-saleâ dolls came with elegant clothing that could be cut out and placed over the family, some of whom were dancing barefoot.
The 1893 Fair might have made one black woman a household name, but it did very little to promote the successes of African Americans after theyâd been released from the bonds of slavery. This exclusion was despite the efforts of the Women's Columbian Association and the Women's Columbian Auxiliary Association to encourage greater inclusion.
In response to public pressure from the two Columbian Associations, the Fair did allow a âNegro Dayâ where Frederick Douglass spoke. Tellingly, the associated picnic was prohibited from being held on the fairgrounds.
Unlike many black people, Green ended up being a fixture at the Worldâs Fairs. According to her obituary in the Chicago Defender, she played the role of Aunt Jemima until she died in 1923. She appeared at every World's Fair but one.
Interestingly enough, Aunt Jemimaâs husband wasnât always Mose. Itâs said he was initially called Rastus but was renamed to avoid confusion with the mascot of another brand.
That brand, Cream of Wheat, was introduced to the masses in the same year and place as Aunt Jemima Pancake Flour. For the uninitiated, Cream of Wheat is a porridge-like breakfast that visually resembles grits but has a much smoother texture.
Cream of Wheat was created to move surplus grain, much like Rutt and Underwood had intended with their Aunt Jemima mix. Though âChefâ Rastus was presented as the face of the brand, the breakfast item was the brainchild of Scotsman Tom Amidon.
Amidon was the chief miller at Grand Forks, North Dakotaâs Diamond Milling Company. He proposed the millâs owners package up a convenience food made from a portion of the wheat berry typically discarded during flour-making.
After Diamond Milling augmented its regular flour shipment with ten cases of Cream of Wheat, food broker Lamont, Corliss & Company telegrammed requesting an additional 50 cases. The distributor sent the following wire the next day: âFORGET THE FLOUR. SEND US A [RAILROAD] CAR OF CREAM OF WHEAT.â
Cream of Wheatâs Rastus never had the rich backstory of Aunt Jemima, but he did have the same roots as a character in minstrel shows. Whereas Aunt Jemima actually resembled Green, Rastusâs initial likeness was merely a generic drawing from the package designer.
Cream of Wheat didnât quite have the draw of Aunt Jemima, but fairgoers seemed to like its heartiness and ease of preparation. Who knew casual racism could be so palatable?
Buffalo (1901)
Instant coffee
For a city that gave us the quintessential bar food, not much happened in Buffalo in 1901. Outside of a presidential assassination, that is.
When the anarchist Leon Czolgosz fatally shot President William McKinley at the Pan-American Exposition, it had an almost immediate effect on Fair attendance. Like McKinley, it never recovered.
This lack of interest is a shame, as something pretty incredible was unveiled in Buffalo: instant coffee. It was the brainchild of the Japanese chemist Satori Kato. That April, heâd submitted his patent for soluble coffee. Heâd already perfected his dehydration process for tea when a U.S. importer asked him to apply it to coffee.
Unlike those in the U.S. whoâd tried before him, Kato had devised a method to prevent the rancidity that typically occurred during the transport and storage of other inventorsâ products. His process removed the fats and fiber, isolated the oil, and then mixed it with a fat-free aqueous extract. In addition to Kato making his instant coffee shelf-stable, he preserved the aroma indefinitely.
In hopes of becoming the next big thing, the nascent Kato Coffee company set up a sampling station in the Manufacturers Building. It hoped its mail-order tablets would appeal to a diverse audience, including housekeepers, bachelors, soldiers, sailors, explorers, travelers, and hunters.
In its marketing materials, Kato-brand coffee was pitched as a way to quickly enjoy a less bitter, less caffeinated coffee. Apparently, the doctors of the time viewed cups of Joe as âthe arch enemy of the nerve system.â This view is why Kato Coffee pitched itself as a more healthful java, especially since it required less sugar to mask the normally astringent taste of coffee at the time.
The company even submitted its product to the independent Columbus Food Laboratory for testing to reinforce its purity claims. A lab report summary was printed on the back of the artful handouts Kato Coffee distributed at the Fair. Sadly, all of this effort was for naught. Kato Coffee was another casualty of Czolgoszâs bullet.
Interestingly enough, a different hail of bullets ultimately led to instant coffee's success as a category. NESCAFĂ, which utilized a different dehydration process and came in a powdered form, was included in the emergency rations of every U.S. soldier during World War II. Once the war ended, NESCAFĂ was distributed in relief packages across the devastated swathes of Europe and Japan.