Growing numbers of parents are looking for ways to teach their babies to learn a second or third language, reports Jenny Anderson in the New York Times (8/19/10). Some are hiring foreign-language babysitters (-: while others are investing in products like Spanish in a Basket :-). In some cases, it's because it's easier to learn foreign languages at a younger age. In others, it's because the parents have some kind of connection to other languages. It's also because they think it will make their children smarter, although there's some debate over that.

"Once you are trilingual, your brain can break down new languages that make it so much easier to learn your fourth, fifth and sixth languages," says Simona D'Souza, whose three kids speak German, Spanish and English. Research does indeed show "that learning a second language makes it easier to learn additional languages." But psychologist Ellen Bialystok says that doesn't necessarily mean being multilingual makes you smarter. "There are documented cognitive developments," she says, "but whatever smarter means, it isn't true."

Ellen's own research finds that multilingual kids "tend to have smaller vocabularies in English than their monolingual counterparts," and that they "have to work harder to access the right word in the right language which can slow them down" -- if only by milliseconds. But research also shows that "bilingual children do better at complex tasks like isolating information presented in confusing ways," and some believe this flexibility can be helpful in science and math. "We view it as a gift we are giving him," says Nir Liberboim, who "hired a Peruvian nanny to speak only Spanish" with his 18-month-old son.

"I'm the realest leprechaun you are ever going to meet," says Jess Buzzutto in a New York Times piece by Susan Dominus (3/16/10). That's what Jess tells people -- little and otherwise -- when they ask him "if he's a real leprechaun." Jess can't blame them for asking; in fact, he encourages them. Bearded, chubby, always dressed in green and standing just five feet tall, he certainly looks the part to his friends and neighbors in Yonkers, New York.

He even accessorizes with "shamrock and leprechaun pins" on his green hat. It wasn't as if he always knew he looked like a leprechaun, though. Jess began wearing a green, wool cap in his 20s, and in his 30s he grew a beard that came in red. One day, while wearing a green shirt, a stranger asked him if he knew he looked like a leprechaun, and Jess thought that was ridiculous. Then he realized it was obvious and began "wearing all green all the time."

"Anyone who looks like this, and doesn't know he looks like a leprechaun is a dunderhead, for crying out loud," he says. So, now, at 68, and his beard more gray than red, Jess embraces his inner elf (just don't ask him to affect a brogue). "By now it's Pavlovian," he says. "I go to New York City, and every time a car honks, my arm flies up." One admirer set up a Facebook fan page for him (link). But wait -- Buzzutto -- is that Irish? "A little," says Jess, who also says he makes a mean lasagna.

"Whenever we go to war with a country, we bring back the food," says Crisantos Hajibrahim, a retired lance corporal, in a Wall Street Journal article by Tamara Audi (3/15/10). So much so that Crisantos and his wife, Denise Hazime, are now running "Dede Med's Shawarma House -- the first Arabic food stand -- " at Camp Pendleton, California. The idea was Denise's, and the couple are enjoying a "lucrative market" on the base, "which has a daytime population of 60,000 hungry Marines and civilians."

Lane Jones, the communications director, explains: "They're deploying to that part of the world and they're developing a taste for that kind of product." Indeed, "more than two million military service members have been deployed to the Middle East" since 2001. "... Those sent to villages and neighborhoods quickly learn about lamb, flat bread and the ubiquitous chickpea ... shared meals are often a key part of forming bonds and winning trust."

When Denise contacted the base about an Arabic food stand she already had an online following, at Dede's Mediterranean Kitchen featuring recipes and cooking videos (link). She admits to some trepidation opening her stand after a Muslim pyschiatrist "allegedly killed 12 in a shooting rampage" at Fort Hood in Texas. However, as Denise notes, "This is not about war. This is not about politics. This is about shawarma ... And falafel." Alexander Harris, back from Afghanistan, agrees. "I love the shawarma," he says. "I'm glad we finally have it here," adding, "Now this is exciting."

"It brings us back to Guatamala," says Eugenia Flores, explaining the appeal of Pollo Campero, reports Michael Arndt in Bloomberg Businessweek (3/22/10). Pollo Campero, which in English means Country Chicken, is "the fried chicken chain that's the McDonald's of Guatamala and making a dent in the U.S. fast-food market, with 53 stores in 15 states since its 2002 arrival." Pollo Campero already has a total of "325 restaurants in 13 countries from Equador and Mexico to Spain, Bahrain, India and China" and has a global goal of "1,750 franchises over the next decade."

This would include about 500 locations in the U.S. alone, "expanding beyond its Spanish-speaking base" across America. This fall, a Pollo Campero "will replace a McDonald's in Walt Disney World's entertainment district near Orlando. The company is also testing a restaurant inside a Walmart store in Bentonville, Ark." While expat Guatamalans no doubt appreciate the "fried plantains and milky horchata drinks," Pollo Campero is also attracting the "crossover market" with "dishes such as grilled chicken and mashed potatoes."

Pollo Campero began in 1971 as "an afterthought" by founder Juan Bautista Gutierrez, "as an outlet for his poultry farms," and is now part of a $2.2 billion family conglomerate that also includes lumber, construction and hydroelectric power. The restaurants "feature drive-through windows and brightly colored booths," and boast "bigger-than-average checks in the U.S. because a high percentage of its customers are families ... A 12-piece chicken combo" runs $21.99," which is "more than four foot-long sandwiches at Subway ... Per-unit sales come to $1.7 million a year, nearly double KFC's $950,000," according to Technomic.

Octavio Bajonero Gil had an unusual art collection, a Mexican college was looking for something different, and the result is the National Museum of Death, reports Chris Hawley in USA Today (10/30/09). Octavio's collection includes "dozens of tiny calaveritas," or small, decorated skulls, "along with hundreds of other death-related artworks he had acquired over 50 years." It forms the core of the museum's collection, and museum director Jose Antonio Padilla, thinks it makes for a most relevant exhibit.

"Mexicans have death imprinted all over their art and culture," he says. "So why not a museum about it?" Actually, some Mexicans are less than enthusiastic about the idea, given that the "country is grappling with a wave of murders following President Felipe Calderon's military crackdown on drug cartels. But Jose counters that "this is not a museum of drug violence. It's a museum about a certain artistic tradition." In addition to those really cool calaveritas, that includes "depictions of death from other countries, from American Halloween decorations to small replicas of the terra cotta soldiers of China."

Also featured are various "statues of 'Saint Death,' the grim reaper, which is increasingly worshipped at shrines and chapels in poor neighborhoods of Mexico." Some visitors are so taken by this that they try to leave offerings. "We get some unusual people here," says Juan Manuel Vizcaino, assistant director of exhibits. The Museum of Death attracts some 70,000 visitors each year, about one-third "from other countries, mainly the United States." One visitor, Spencer Garcia-Stinson of New Hampshire, left impressed: "It's definitely kind of bizarre," he says. "In the United States we don't like to talk about death, but here they're dealing with it so openly ... It's amazing."

Nobody knows for sure who made the first pepperoni roll, but it's clear the tradition started with Italian immigrants working in West Virginia coal mines, reports John T. Edge in the New York Times (9/30/09). The immigrants landed in West Virginia in the early 1900s because, according to one historian, coal companies wanted "a more docile, controllable work force than their American-born counterparts." That part didn't work out as planned, as the Italians "were just as inclined, if not more so, toward union affiliation and action." But it did result in an enduring innovation in fast food.

The story goes that "Italian miners loaded tin pails with hunks of hearth-baked bread as well as various American takes on Italian salumi, from bologna to pepperoni." It wasn't long before "commercially baked pepperoni rolls" were being turned out and sold "in taverns and country stores to shift workers in need of cheap and portable food." It's a tradition carried on by bakeries like Tomaro's, located "in the Italian-dominated Glen Elk neighborhood of Clarksburg," which has been in business since 1914. However, it's the Country Club Bakery of Fairmount, founded in 1927 as the People's Bakery, that claims to be "the origin point of the pepperoni roll."

But it's a relative newcomer, Brake's Dairy King, that's been around only since 1998 that sees more potential in the pepperoni roll's future than nostalgia for its past. "You can nuke these in the microwave," says Chris Brake. "They can take it. My rolls can take anything. I'll split them open and pile anything on. I'll put ice cream in the son-of-a-gun if somebody wants one that way." Even traditionalists like Chris Pallotta of Country Club Bakery sees "the prospect for continued relevance as a new generation of consumers applies an avalanche of American condiments to his Italian-American pepperoni rolls," saying "I'm just glad to see that they're starting with pepperoni rolls."

Norman Lear didn't exactly see dollar signs when he first heard a bunch of pop-music chestnuts sung by a group called Playing for Change, reports Mark Guarino in the Christian Science Monitor (9/21/09). "There's no young person or big stars, the songs you've heard before," says Norman, who these days runs Concord Music Group, a record label. "So I didn't look at it and say, 'there's a big buck to be made.' I thought, 'this can be very good for our label because it's so good and so healthy and so deeply touching.'"

That's exactly what Mark Johnson, a recording engineer had in mind. Over a period of about four years, he traveled to 15 countries with his recording equipment in tow. He visited "South Africa, Ghana, India, Nepal, the Middle East, Russia, Brazil and Ireland," and recorded local "instrumentalists, vocalists, choral groups, youth choirs and subway performers, each contributing individual parts to familiar songs by Bob Marley, Sam Cooke, Peter Gabriel, and others. The result was both a CD and DVD -- and a YouTube hit video of "Stand By Me," the "Ben E. King chestnut from 1961." (video)

Mark says his idea was to "show all different cultures and races and political points of view coming together to do something positive." All of the recordings were done "outdoors to capture the environment of each particular location," and "each musician wore headphones, which ... allowed them to contribute their parts in accordance with what was needed." The CD and DVD were distributed through Starbucks and now a tour is planned, featuring "a band of 10 musicians from the recordings, many of whom don't speak the same language, just music."

It's kind of a mystery how Sonoran-style hot dogs came to be wrapped in bacon, reports John T. Edge in the New York Times (8/26/09). These hot dogs are known as Sonoran-style because the Mexican state of Sonora is "often cited as ground zero for bacon-wrapped hot dogs." But the funny thing is that Sonora "is a locus for cattle ranching, not pig farming." So, another possible explanation is a print ad for Oscar Mayer hot dogs, run in 1953, "selling American consumers on the virtues of bacon-wrapped hot dogs." It could be that Mexican consumers, intrigued by American pop cuisine, adopted the idea and made it their own.

Whatever the origin, the bacon alone does not a Sonoran-style hot dog make. The toppings and the bun are just as important -- "a kitchen sink of taco-truck condiments ... stuffed into split-top rolls that owe a debt to both Mexican bolillo loaves and grocery store hot dog buns." Usually this means "a clump of beans and a chop of tomatoes and onions, followed by squirts of mayonnaise, mustard and salsa verde." Sometimes you might get some ketchup, and some innovative vendors, known as los hotdogueros, crumble some potato chips on top, too.

"A ketchup and mustard hot dog is boring," says Tania Murillo. "They're not colorful enough," she continues, adding that Sonora is indeed the best place to get the best hot dogs. While that may be true, Tucson is currently home to more than 100 hotdogueros -- many operate from carts but some, "like El Guero Canelo, with two Tucson outlets, have evolved from carts into full-scale restaurants." And the concept is spreading -- "from Chicago to Denver to Los Angeles, where illegal street vendors, selling so-called danger dogs to late-night crowds, play hide-and-seek with the local health department." As Tania says, "You've got to make them colorful, and pile on the stuff."

Shopping malls catering to Asians and Hispanics are doing better than their "mainstream" competitors," reports Husna Haq in the Christian Science Monitor (8/31/09). In fact, business is so good at Kam Man Mall, in Quincy, Massachusetts, that its manager is planning to open another Asian supermarket in the area. Sales are "up 10 percent in each of the past two years." It's a similar story at the Great Wall Mall in Seattle, as well as La Gran Plaza de Fort Worth, which specializes in Latino-oriented stores.

It's not just the buying power of Asians or Latinos, though. It's also that immigrants "tend to save more" and also "rely heavily on cash, one of the few protected assets in the wake of Wall Street turmoil." In addition, ethnic malls tend to engender loyalty. "Customers are willing to go in and shop there even if it's not the best price," says David Kaplan of Kent State University. Jose de Jesus Legaspi, who runs the La Gran Plaza de Fort Worth, comments: "By focusing on a narrow, underserved demographic, ethnic malls create a funnel to bring people in from far away."

He adds that business has only gotten better since the recession started: "Since the recession, our occupancy, merchant base and number of customers has increased," he says. Even the unemployed are driving growth, he says, as some of them have opened small shops in the mall's mercado. Ethnic malls are also faring better because they typically are "anchored by supermarkets and low-cost eateries," instead of "high-end department stores and ritzy restaurants." The most intriguing question may be "whether immigrants remake American consumerism -- or American consumerism remakes them."

The Greek gyro, as we know it, was introduced to America by a Jewish hippie-type from Chicago named John Garlic, reports David Segal in the New York Times (7/15/09). The idea actually wasn't John's -- it was his wife, Margaret's. She was watching the old "What's My Line?" television show during which a Greek restaurant owner demonstrated his best gyro technique. She and John got their hands on a recipe, "rented space in a sausage plant and cranked out history's first assembly-line gyros," in Chicago, starting in 1973.

Hoping to expand, the Garlics partnered with Peter Parthenis, who was "building rotisseries, but soon realized the money was in the meat." The partnership fizzled, and Peter bought out the Garlics, who subsequently gave up on the gyro business. Others Chicagoans, such as Chris Tomaras and George Apostolou, soon joined the fray, however. "The response to the product was tremendous," says George. "My two brothers and I, we became millionaires in two years' time." Chris Tomaras meanwhile started Kronos Foods, which is now "the world's largest manufacturer of gyros."

Today, some "50,000 vertical broilers" cook up cones of gyro meat nationwide. The cones consist of ground "beef and lamb trimmings," mixed with "bread crumbs, water, oregano and other seasonings." Hydraulic pressure fuses "the meat into cylinders," which are then frozen. After doing time on a rotisserie, they're carved into thin strips, and folded into pita bread with a little yogurt sauce. At about $5 a wrap, gyros are selling well these days. In fact, business is so good that Kronos is about to open a bigger plant, that can "crank out enough cones for 6,000 sandwiches a day."