It ain't fried and it doesn't come on a stick. Frankly, it's unlikely to build up in your arteries like stucco, or to accelerate the hour of your death. That's a sure turnoff when it comes to State Fair cuisine. And yet these plastic-wrapped tubes of locally pressed cider do kind of behave like a stick. You can carry them around, for one thing. And when you're sweating like a pig in the stanky pens of the swine barn, you can build up a thirst that can't be cured by any punch that's six parts sugar, one part lemon. Okay, let's just come out with whole truth here: The damn stuff is probably good for you. They're within just a few yards of the giant pumpkins and gourds, too, and it's nice to think that you won't be quite that grotesquely swollen and rotund when you leave the fair. Oh yeah, and at less than a buck a pop, you can afford to buy the kids five or six of them.