I was reading a restaurant review in the New York Times. A squab tastes like "illicit rides in late-night cabs." Watch your back, it's the Travis Bickle of squabs! In the same paragraph, a lamb loin "is low-whistle-and-chuckles food." Both descriptions are positive in context, very positive, in fact. I have not been so excited since the "explosive percussive burst that has the glistening texture of sunlight on a snowfield."
