It’s not a church thing. There’s no Blessing of the Dunk Tank, no saint’s name on the beer koozies, and if the crowd is here to worship anything, it’s Glier’s goetta, in all its oddest incarnations. A lady selling souvenirs near the goetta vending machine (yes, you read that right) recommends Busken Bakery’s “goobers” (doughnut holes spiked with bits of the pork-and-oat treat). “Really good,” she says. But I’m too busy staring at the three priests queued up for Colonial Cottage’s goetta nachos. Priests? Priests!!! Don’t they have their own festivals to run? The whole affair is spread along Newport’s Riverboat Row, with performance stages at each end. The crowd, which style-wise runs to Daisy Dukes and tank tops, is less family-centric than you might see at a parish party. But there’s still plenty for kids, including a cut-out where your child can get a picture taken with his head on top of a roll of Glier’s finest. It’s enough to make you say Jeeeezus. So maybe it is a church thing after all. —linda vacCariello Riverboat Row, Newport, goettafest.com
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