This is less a sign and more a graphic representation. But it is, nevertheless, a gruesome reminder of the times, a reality check on the status of our economy. You may remember a U.S. map that was circulated online in the early part of the decade comparing states’ economic production to the GDP figures of other countries. As a refresher, here it is.

This map was, in a strange way, a source of national pride. In the early 2000s, our little states rivaled some of the world’s strongest economies. California’s economic output roughly equaled the GDP of France, Texas was about equal to Canada, and even tiny Delaware was comparable to Romania, a county with roughly 26 times Delaware’s population. Yes, this map served as a tribute to our economic badassness.

In the last few years, however, our economy has taken an enormous hit. I was curious how our individual states compared to the rest of the world. Did other nations take just as big a blow as we did? Would the economic comparison be similar today? Intrigued, I decided to research the numbers and remake the picture. Following is a map showing the approximate equivalent of each state in 2009.

The new map has a distinctly more “third-world” feel. Instead of Romania, Delaware is now equivalent to Sudan. Massachusetts has moved from Belgium (producer of chocolates and peace accords) to Iran (producer of uranium and global fear). Nebraska was once equal to the proud Czech Republic, a country who overcame the harsh brutalities of Soviet oppression and whose capital city has become one of Europe’s most popular tourist destinations. But now Nebraska is comparable to Angola, Namibia’s neighbor to the north.

Some states, like West Virginia, moved away from the third world, such as Algeria, and toward prosperous countries like Luxembourg. This may seem like an improvement at first glance. However, Algeria has 19 times as many people as West Virginia, while Luxembourg has only about 28% of the state’s population. In addition, California, once on par with France, now generates annually only about 64% of France’s GDP.

As soon as the 2010 numbers are available, I will update this map. But for now, we are left to digest a dismal outlook from the statistics of the first full year of global economic decline.

It’s easy to see why Spätzle is often overlooked. It is essentially a soft, chewy, pleasant noodle side-dish of central Europe. My most recent experience with spätzle was just before a trek up a mountainside in southern Germany.

I ate enough of the delicious, gummy stuff to fuel an adventure into the Bavarian Alps. Well, into the foothills of the Bavarian Alps. Or at least a large cliff in full view of the Bavarian Alps. OK, so I ate spätzle before hiking up switchbacks on the backside of a cliff in full view of the foothills of the Bavarian Alps. And in such an admission comes a concession of greatness, a negative image of the awesome feats I could have accomplished but did not. It is somewhere in this second-rate tier, below greatness, that we find spätzle, so often fulfilling a supporting role to a beef goulash or a pork chop or a generally more exciting food.

It would be natural to say, then, that spätzle lives in the shadows of giants, always an afterthought or a palate-cleanser or a nutritional supplement as a balancer of carbohydrates. Yes, friends, spätzle seems to lead a sad existence. But one must wonder, where would we be without spätzle? We would be overcome by flavor, overstimulated by beef goulash and protein and fibrous meats. We might not appreciate the taste of the main dish without something to humbly ground that taste in reality and pull us back to earth with a tiny tug at our tastebuds. And so, it can be said that main dishes everywhere owe their greatness to the solid and steady existence of spätzle, the base from which we draw distinction, and the rock upon which we build our appetite.

One can imagine (through intense suspension of disbelief) a plate of beef goulash citing Sir Isaac Newton by stating, “If I have seen a little further it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants.” Spätzle, you are that giant. You live not in the shadows of others, but you lift them to their savory glory.

Even standing just alongside the foothills of the Bavarian Alps, I have seen a little further. And I credit that to the food who fueled my ascent, the meal whose energy became mine, the giant upon whose shoulders I stand. I see further because of you, spätzle, because of you.