Without an ounce of embarrassment, the author states that he spent the first 22 years of his life in semi-rural West Virginia. Not even stints in Virginia Beach, Toronto, D.C., and the Valley of the Sun have been able to shake the formative detritus of that era. It's hard, God knows, to find like-minded individuals with whom to share the culinary wonders of a place where people ask how your dinner was by inquiring, "What'd you have good?," but I do indulge every now and again. Even my lady friend, who's Canadian by birth and temperament, turns her face away when I boil up a bowl of elbow macaroni and tomato juice. (It's just like my mom's, except I can never get the butter-to-tomato-juice... More >>>