The mere sight of a succulent chicken breast nestled within warm, buttered buns is enough to send The New York Times into a frenzy.

Adam Rubenstein, a former writer for the Times, dropped a bombshell in a recent piece for The Atlantic titled “I Was a Heretic at The New York Times.”

Reflecting on his initial foray into the hallowed halls of the Times, Rubenstein, previously associated with the Wall Street Journal and The Weekly Standard, recounts his first encounter with the newspaper’s peculiar ethos.

On one of my first days at The New York Times, I went to an orientation with more than a dozen other new hires. We had to do an icebreaker: Pick a Starburst out of a jar and then answer a question. My Starburst was pink, I believe, and so I had to answer the pink prompt, which had me respond with my favorite sandwich. Russ & Daughters’ Super Heebster came to mind, but I figured mentioning a $19 sandwich wasn’t a great way to win new friends. So I blurted out, “The spicy chicken sandwich from Chick-fil-A,” and considered the ice broken.

The HR representative leading the orientation chided me: “We don’t do that here. They hate gay people.” People started snapping their fingers in acclamation. I hadn’t been thinking about the fact that Chick-fil-A was transgressive in liberal circles for its chairman’s opposition to gay marriage. “Not the politics, the chicken,” I quickly said, but it was too late. I sat down, ashamed.

According to Rubenstein, the Times seems to have an aversion to anything remotely savory, even going as far as branding chicken as a symbol of malevolence. This startling revelation is just a teaser for his forthcoming book, “Twilight’s Last Gleaming.”

Rubenstein’s exposé is a rollercoaster of emotions, oscillating between tragedy and comedy. It serves as a poignant reminder of the sorry state of contemporary American journalism.