83-Word Valentine to Citizen Public House’s Fried Chicken Skins

Illustration by Steven Stankiewicz

To the fried chicken skins at Citizen Public House: They say beauty’s only, well, you deep. Sure enough, your double-sided crispiness—begotten only by flour-dredging you alone, sans bird, before your hot-oil regimen—puts every chewy pretender to shame. The come-hither smoked-paprika aioli you wear merely adds to your allure. You’re a cheap date ($6). You make my heart go pitter-patter (though my primary-care physician uses a more-technical term). And, most of all, you pair beautifully with a glass of pinot noir…preferably chilled.