Turkey legs have that effect on me.

I confess the primary reason I'm drawn to fairs and street festivals is the chance to sup on a juicy turkey leg the size of a Chihuahua. It's difficult to describe the deep satisfaction that wells up inside when a food vendor places the ungainly entity in my hand. It's a bit awkward at first. My arm is startled by the substantial one-and-a half-pound meat-weight.
Inevitably, I almost lose my grip because the weight distribution is so
unbalanced; all the meat is on the opposite side of the sticky handle.
I spend a few moments strategizing where the first bite will yield the
largest mouthful of smoked bird.

This turkey is my carnival scepter; it makes me feel like I've won a prize. I feel absolutely no shame walking amid thousands of strangers gnawing on my meat trophy, turkey juices streaming down my chin. After eating around the giant knob of bone, it gets trickier grinding through crisp, snappy skin, ligaments and other such meat impediments. I can feel the stares of fowl-hugging vegans and people with weird food phobias . In either case, I'm convinced they are envy-fueled glares. How could anyone shun a masterpiece of succulent turkey meat perfumed in such divine smoke?

Eating turkey legs brings back a Neanderthal instinct that thousands of years of evolution and eating with linens in our lap have buried. No utensils required for this decidedly un-dainty endeavor. Not even a plate. It's gratifyingly basic and simple. Meat, skin and fat on a stick that God created himself: the tibia of a 40- to 50-pound turkey, brined and slow-cooked in a commercial smoker for hours.

Fall signals the advent of outdoor fairs, and the biggest spectacle is the Texas Renaissance Festival, which begins this weekend. I remember coming home exhausted and sleepy-eyed with a face smudged in paint and a crown of flowers and ribbons as a little girl. Now, as an adult, I bring back meat- and mead-induced hangovers.

Perhaps the pageantry, counterfeit accents and exceptional people-watching factor into my enjoyment of the Renaissance Festival. Or possibly the long drive primes my appreciation. But for some reason the turkey legs out there in Plantersville always seem to trump any others in memory throughout the year. In 2009, the Texas Renaissance Festival sold more than 80,000 legs on the festival grounds. Ten thousand legs consumed on a weekend? It feels good to know I'm not alone.

Jenny Wang is a freelance food writer and founder of Houston Chowhounds. She blogs at imneverfull.blogspot.com.