The Atlantic has a highly amusing story of espionage in America that seems to center around food and beverages:

On my way to meet [the FBI agent] the next morning, I realized that I didn’t know what he looked like. Not to worry: I was in Adams Morgan, D.C.’s original hippie/hipster neighborhood, and he and his colleague were FBI agents straight out of central casting, with dark-blue suits and close-cropped hair. They wanted to know everything I knew about Vladimir. I had assumed that he was a spy. But I was pretty confident that there was nothing illegal about our conversations. So I spent about 45 minutes telling them what I could. I learned my experience was not that unusual: Cactus Cantina, the agents told me, was the favorite haunt of Russian spooks (and the cringe-worthy tipping I had observed was standard practice).

How much is cringe-worthy tipping?

Do the Russians like Mexican food or are they trying to blend in? It sounds like pizza is acceptable to them also, especially if the name of the pizza includes the letters P-U-T-I-N. The FBI on the other hand go for Starbucks. The American agent’s choice might seem as obvious to us Americans as their stereotypical clothes, but maybe it looks to Muscovites like fancy taco joints are where Americans want to go for lunch.

I can just imagine a KGB bulletin describing the current administration’s culture of tex-mex preferences, with a potential shift coming towards deep-dish (Chicago-style) pizza.

Gee, either it’s lunch time or I’m getting hungry just reading about national security…perhaps one of these savvy beltway insiders/journalists could put together a spook’s guide to dining?