No matter what food behavior I describe, people think I am “not a typical American.”  And my descriptions vary widely.  For example, I was born in Columbia, Missouri.  We moved away when I was 6 months old, but my parents were there long enough for my father to enjoy frog gigging and develop a taste for frog’s legs.  Did you know that English word before, gigging?  I had forgotten it.  Frog gigging involves going out at night with a flashlight, stunning the frog with the light, and snagging it with the “gig,” a pronged spear.  Then, just like in France, you skin the frog and fry up or sauté the legs, usually in lots of garlic and butter.  My father loved frog legs and always ordered them in French restaurants when he was visiting.  I like them too, and people always claim I must not be a typical American.