There comes a time in every reporter’s life when he or she becomes aware of a higher purpose, hears an undeniable calling, and is ready to take the next step. Risking life and limb simply becomes part of the job, as they attempt to tell a story in all its truth. For some, this means reporting from a battlefield as an embedded journalist. For others it means standing on the beach with nothing but a camera and microphone as a category five hurricane barrels down on them. For this correspondent, the revelation came when I stared down the most menacing foe I have ever encountered: the Kentucky Fried Chicken Double Down sandwich. Something told me I had to write about it. But first, I had to–against my better judgment–eat it.

The Double Down is packaged in the same Colonel Sanders-adorned,  innocent-looking box into which KFC might put, say, their moderately healthy grilled chicken sandwich with extra tomato, hold the mayo, please. But the box is meant to draw you in and deceive you, for when you open it, you are greeted by the villain in disguise, the Double Down himself.

The sandwich consists of two fried chicken breast fillets, bacon, American cheese, and a tangy sauce whose purpose, I would venture to say, is to distract you from the fact that you are holding a breadless chicken sandwich in your hands.

As any seasoned journalist would do, I first stared at the sandwich for a while. Then I took pictures of it. Then I asked it a warm up question. Then I asked it a trick question. After eliciting no response from the sandwich, I determined that it was at least somewhat safe to consume. And the adventure began.

There’s something oddly unnerving about holding fried chicken fillets in your hands. And there shouldn’t be. Fried chicken is often considered finger food. But that’s when there are bones to eat around and little morsels of unknown goodness to uncover, or when the chicken is in the form of fingers or nuggets. When you’re holding two slabs of meat glued together with cheese, bacon, and sauce, an internal warning bell of etiquette violation starts ringing immediately. The experience is permeated by the constant thought, “Did I lose the bun?” Surely this is not what Taco Bell meant by “Think outside the bun,” even though I did purchase this sandwich-like thing from a KFC/Taco Bell.

The bottom line for the Double Down is that the novelty wears off after ten seconds. You have grease all over your hands and all you really want is a bun. Or a fork. Or a trash can.

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.