"I ordered a biscuit sandwich called the Honey Chicken and Pickles, expecting some crinkle-cut pickle chips atop a fried chicken breast. When the server set the sandwich in front of me, though, I could barely see the chicken beneath a pile of Jacob’s Hot Sours, shaved into countless thin slices. The ratio of pickle to meat was nearly one-to-one. The pickles, permeated with the heat of chiles de árbol, cut through the sweetness of the clover honey. I devoured the whole plate, lost in a transgender rapture."
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