Ancient yet modern at once, Greek cuisine radiates with sunshine and bright, fresh flavors. Succulent lamb enlivened with rosemary and garlic, a classic dish, is as redolent of Greece as it is of springtime. And as is true of anywhere with a shoreline, seafood is center stage. Always present are plates of local feta, stark-white and salty, and olives whose depth of flavor will keep you from ever opening canned olives again. For dessert, honey forms a sinful pact with walnuts and cinnamon, or yogurt made in-house just that morning cozies up to macerated cherries.

A Greek dinner is lovely to prepare and a joy to eat. Many of the ingredients are staples you probably have in your kitchen, such as lemons, herbs, eggs and olive oil. Here are some ingredients you might want to try.

The Basics: Olives and Feta. Olive oil is central to Greek cooking. The essential Greek olive is kalamata. They should be deep black and packed in an olive oil and vinegar brine; a taste should reveal a distinctive, fruity flavor and a firm bite without mealiness. Here's a great recipe for using these beauties. There are other Greek cheeses beyond feta, but this standard should be available in every cheese case. The cheese should be pure white with a gently pocked surface, lounging in a clean bath of salt-water brine (never buy dry feta).

Yes, you read that right. Thanks to the modern phenomenon of solutions to problems no one has, there exists concept design for a device which, depending on your viewpoint, is genius, preposterous, useless, or somewhere between the three. Please meet the CHOMPr hamburger grasper, which according to the copy is "a conceptual hamburger grasping device for high-end restaurants." Looking like two coffee tables from a dollhouse from the Eames era held together by those pins Ikea gives you to keep your bookshelf from collapsing, the CHOMPr seeks to ameliorate the conflict between the informal process of eating a hamburger and formal surroundings.

To some, whether you need a hamburger grasping device beyond those at the ends of your arms is sort of, well, silly. But it is very interesting as an etiquette question, because it raises the related issues of utensils as a dimension of table manners and hands as a dimension of utensils. For the former, utensils are a mark of civilization precisely because they aren't your hands, and the development of utensils has followed a trajectory more or less complimentary to the Industrial Revolution, culminating in the Victorian era, when a fully outfitted silver trousseau could top out at 500 pieces and counting.

On the one hand, I have to admit that I am a little creeped out by the amount of coverage that the Obama family is getting. There is no reason that I need to know the menu options offered by Sidwell Friends School or the identity of Michelle Obama's favorite clothing designer. These things have no impact on the President's ability to govern or on my day-to-day life.

On the other hand, I, like so many of my fellow Americans, am fascinated by my new President, and the more I learn about the little details of his life, the more human and real he seems. While I admit to being a little disturbed by the nascent cult of personality that seems to be developing around President Obama, I feel like I can trust him to keep a clear head, no matter how hard the country seems to be working on giving him a messiah complex. In fact, the man who emerges from this National Geographic trailer seems as level-headed as they come.

As the ongoing recession/inflation/credit crunch drives the cost of food higher and higher, British chain Sainsbury's has begun working to minimize food wastage. Meanwhile, ever-increasing numbers of consumers are cooking from scratch in an attempt to stretch their food budgets. Clearly, thrift is back!

As you rush around in your search for cheap things to eat, it's worth remembering that, in the kitchen at least, poverty can definitely be the mother of invention. Although cheap gas, greenhouse gardening, and factory farming drove down the price of food for most of the last century, the vast majority of human history has been characterized by the desperate search for sustenance. Keeping that in mind, here's a reminder about a few of the techniques that long-gone chefs once developed to preserve the harvest, get their vitamins, and avoid throwing anything away:

Organ meats: In the days before easy canning and greenhouse gardening, it was incredibly difficult to get the necessary daily allowance of vitamins. Lacking access to fresh fruits and vegetables, medieval farmers turned to organ meats. For example, rich in iron and Vitamin A, the liver was a dietary staple for generations. Similarly, kidneys, sweetbreads, and brains are also great sources of necessary vitamins. Much later, immigrants and the lower classes continued to eat these organs, as they were healthy and relatively inexpensive.

Over the past few years, as wine has undergone repeated studies, it has started to seem like the modern-day fountain of youth. According to its various supporters, it can fight off streptococcus bacteria, reduce the risk of Alzheimer's disease, and flush one's system with antioxidants. Still, all of these pale beside wine's greatest claim to fame: the so-called French paradox.

For years, scientists have wondered how the French, who have one of the most saturated-fat rich diets in the world, manage to have such a low incidence of heart disease. While they haven't been able to scientifically determine the mechanism at work, anecdotal evidence has suggested that France's impressive wine consumption might have something to do with the paradox. Recently, scientists at Hebrew University in Jerusalem have confirmed the link and have even determined part of its mechanism.

According to the researchers, when the body digests meat, particularly turkey and red meat, it produces two toxic chemicals, malondialdehyde and hydroperoxide. These compounds can cause cancer, inflammation, and heart disease. However, red wine contains polyphenols, a particular kind of antioxidant, that neutralizes the toxins and prevents their absorbtion into the bloodstream.

Warning: this post may offend people who like cute little furry guinea pigs.

A few days ago, I wrote a post about chicha morada, the amazing Peruvian blue corn drink. Thinking on it further, I am becoming increasingly convinced that Peru produces some of the best dishes in the world; with that in mind, I plan on writing a fair bit more about the wonders of lomo saltado, papas a la huancaina, and other treats. However, in the interests of total honesty, I also have to acknowledge the dark side of Peruvian cuisine, the surreal side, the side that dresses up guinea pigs in colorful costumes then roasts them with cheese.

The twisted tale of the Peruvian Guinea Pig Festival begins in a cute, whimsical way. In the small city of Huacho, located north of Lima, somebody came up with the bright idea of holding a regional carnival to honor the cuy, or guinea pig. Now in its third year, the event features contests for fattest, quickest, and best dressed cuy. People from the surrounding communities primp and preen their top animals, preparing them for the race and dressing them in the height of rodent fashion. It is not uncommon to see the animals dressed in bright silks and taffetas, sporting little hats and crowns, and generally looking like a cross between a fur mitten and the infant of Prague.

While the winners of the fastest and best dressed contests are spared from the final competition, the remainder of the cuy become fodder for the greatest test of all, a battle royale that pits woman against woman, village against village, and cuy against cuy: the fight for tastiest guinea pig. Amidst an orgy of stuffing, roasting, skewering and smoking, the women of Peru demonstrate their skill with one of the country's traditional delicacies.

As I wrote several weeks ago, a pig pickin' is a North Carolina tradition involving a pig, a converted petroleum drum cooker, a bunch of charcoal and a whole lot of time. But a pig pickin' is not the only way to cook a whole hog - cultures across the world have been spit roasting, grilling and burying pigs in hot ash for thousands of years. In many places, pork is the cheapest meal available, making pig roasts an affordable way to have big festive meals for the whole community. Here are a few whole hog traditions from around the world:

Hawaii: Possibly the most famous whole pig preparation of them all, the kalua pig is a staple of the Hawaiian luau. The pig is "dressed" (gutted, the outer layer of skin and hair removed) and salted and placed in an imu - a banana leaf-lined pit filled with hot stones. The pig is covered in more dirt and left for hours until smoky and falling apart tender.

Cuba: Cubans love their lechón (suckling pig), a Christmas Eve tradition. Pigs are often cooked in backyard roasters made from bricks or cinder blocks. One popular version of the homemade roaster is called a "caja china" (a Chinese box), a rather coffin-like device in which the pig is placed on the metal-lined bottom and a tray of coals is placed on top, cooking the meat through indirect heat.

Italy: At the annual Sagra del Maiale festival of pork, Italians grill whole pigs over a food fire and lovingly dis-articulate them to feed the whole village. Skin becomes crispy and meat is buttery soft and succulent. And not a big of the porker is wasted - even the ears and trotters are fair game. Not headed to Italy any time soon? Some Italian restaurants in NYC and other cities have their own Sagra del Maiale.

The Philippines: The image of the golden-skinned pig spinning on a spit over a roaring fire is a reality here in the South Pacific, where Filipinos adore stuffing the pig's belly with herbs and spices, impaling it horizontally, and roasting it until the skin crackles and the meat is meltingly tender. The dish, known as lechon baboy, is a festival day favorite.

Berry jams are probably the most popular in the U.S. When it comes to jams, we rarely consider plums. I love plum jams because they have a unique candy-like sweetness that is tempered by a little acidity and a smooth texture. Below are three types of plums that produce exceptionally one-of-a-kind jams:

Mirabelles: If you have even the slightest sweet tooth, these plums are seriously addictive. Mirabelle jam has dark yellow colored chunks of juicy sweet mirabelle plums. Don't be surprised if you start eating the jam straight from the jar with a spoon. This jam is delicious on buttered toast. These plums are a specialty in the region of Lorraine in France.

Reines Claudes (Greengages): These green wild plums produce a vibrant orange-brownish colored jam. Eating this jam is like eating a decadent confection produced solely for royalty. Reines Claudes are cultivated in the United States, England, and France. The name "Reine Claude" originated from the 16th century in France and refers to queen Claude, the wife of Francis I. Its other name "Greengage" refers to the Gage family that brought the plums from France and cultivated them in England during the 18th century.

Quetsches: They look like large luscious deep purple grapes. Quetsche jam often has a delicate succulent sweet flavor. Quetches come from the regions of Alsace and Lorraine in France where they are used to make desserts and eau-de-vie, clear colorless fruit brandy. Try this dessert at home: Questche plum tart with walnut cream.

I've used herbs and spices my entire life without ever stopping to think about what the difference is between them. I was excited to find a blog post on the subject at the Supreme Spice Blog. It's always fun to find the answer to a question you didn't know you had.

"The leaf of a plant which is used in cooking is referred to as a herb and any other part of the plant that is used to flavor food is termed as a spice."

The blog gives some examples of spices and what plant part they are from: "Cloves (bud), ginger & turmeric (roots), fennel, cumin, coriander (seeds), cinnamon (bark), peppercorns (berries)."

Be sure to check out the Supreme Spice Blog for more about spices. Supreme Spice also sells a line of spice extracts in some unique flavors. I just made an Indian cupcake using their tea masala extract. I had never even heard of tea masala extract until I saw their product.

Lemons + a dirty microwave oven = clean microwave oven!

Tired of seeing the bottoms of your copper pans looking all black and discolored? Here's how to clean them.

Have you ever stood at your stove cooking pasta sauce and you realize it's too watery, and you don't have any tomato paste, flour, or corn starch? Here's how to thicken it.

A couple weekends ago, while on a road trip, a friend mentioned she'd heard you could tell a person's personality by their donut choice. We all immediately began discussing our favorite donuts - classic glazed, chocolate frosted, buttermilk. I favor Dunkin' Donuts - chocolate glazed or coconut - despite having grown up half an hour away from a drive-through Krispy Kreme store where you could get hot , melt-in-your-mouth glazed donuts right off the conveyor belt. Not that those aren't good - I just like the greater heft of a Dunkin Donuts cake donut. You can eat two and actually feel full. Or eat, say, five and feel really, really full.

So I Googled "donuts" and "personality" and came up with several quizzes and guides to donuts and human nature. The What Donuts Are You? quiz tells me I'm a Boston creme, tough on the outside but a gushy traditionalist within. Fry My Bacon's guide to donut personality tells me that my choice, coconut, makes me a mostly serene creature with a yearning for tropical places, yet prone to sudden fits of rage. Interesting. And woe on the double chocolate lovers - greedy, decadent, but never truly satisfied!

Ok, are you a popsicle fiend? Do you eat those ice cream treats that come on a stick? The real question is, do you have tons of those sticks lying around the house and you just don't know what to do with them? Here is one thought: build a boat.

While you're at it, make it a seaworthy replica of a Viking boat, and then sail it to England (or somewhere maybe a little closer if that's a bit far for you). Of course you must remember to reinforce it with fiberglass, first please. An American living in the Netherlands did just that when his wife kept complaining about all the popsicle sticks lying around. I must admit that this would not be my first thought of a solution.

The Viking ship took millions (15) of sticks and tons (2.2) of glue to make, not to mention many years (sorry, the story's not that specific). Even though I wouldn't have thought of this, I am glad that someone did. We all need a dream to reach for and something to smile about.