Fourteen countries set up kitchens on the same four blocks, and for three days the whole town smells like something your grandmother would have made if your grandmother had been from everywhere at once.
It runs on a principle most food festivals abandoned decades ago: no entrance fee, no VIP section, and no sponsor telling you which direction to walk. You show up. You eat Brazilian food beside a stage playing Irish music beside a booth selling Greek pastries. The line for the gyros touches the line for the lumpia touches the line for the schnitzel. You lose a child in the kids' street and find them covered in face paint holding a stick of something fried.
Old Towne Orange, the historic plaza at the center of it, eight stages running continuously, crafts booths down every street. Bring cash — plenty of vendors take nothing else.
Come hungry, and bring the person who claims they have already tried everything. Watch that hold up for about ten minutes.