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Omnivore - Maureen Dowd's culinary passion

I get teased a good bit about my fondness for the fried chicken (and biscuits) at Popeyes. After complaining a year about the service at the one at the corner of Boulevard and Ponce de Leon, things finally improved — only for the place to be closed by a fire.

Sunday morning, I was pleased to read the words of another Popeyes lover — Maureen Dowd of the New York Times. She begins a column about Barack Obama this way:

I was covered in barbecue sauce, somewhere over Texas, when Barack Obama loped down the aisle of the plane to chat with reporters.

I felt guilty, because I had been covering his speeches urging parents to make their kids give up chips and Popeyes. I hadn’t yet come to grips with the notion of giving up Popeyes when Obama — slender, chewing Nicorette and perfectly groomed in his crisp white shirt — came upon me. I was splattered with so much red sauce it could have been a scene from “Saw IV.” Not only on my face and hands but all over the candidate’s picture in the U.S. News & World Report I was reading.

Go, MoDo!





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