What do you do after completing a punishing tour of duty as food critic for the New York Times? If you’re Frank Bruni, you eat four kinds roast chicken over the course of four concurrent nights. Bruni writes about his decompression period in the Atlantic’s food blog, noting that his critical ways aren’t likely to fade fast:

“On a flight from New York to Seattle, I immediately notice the chef Todd English’s imprimatur on some of the Delta cuisine, and in my head I’m grading him on, and admonishing him for, the ‘grilled chicken gyro in pita’ that I decide to try. It’s much heavier on the Romaine and diced cucumbers than on the grilled chicken, and the pita pocket is stuffed so full that there’s no way to get the ‘tsatsiki sauce’ on the side into it at this point. The sauce should already be in the sandwich.

It’s a good read, and you also get to vicariously enjoy Bruni trying his first Honeycrisp apple, which has been popular out here in the Upper Midwest for years. If you dig the Honeycrisp, just wait until you try the SweeTango

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