There are so many amazing nuggets in this week's New Yorker profile of the capture of the guy who ran Mexico's largest drug cartel for more than a decade that you should probably just start reading it now.

(Its author, Patrick Radden Keefe, just won the National Magazine Award for reporting.)

Our favorite was this: the drug lord, Joaquin Guzman Loera, known as El Chapo aka "Shorty," loved gourmet food, and despite living high up in the Sierra Madres to evade arrest, he couldn't resist heading down to eat at nearby restaurants.

When this happened, his security team had to take some precautions. Here's how it went down:

From time to time, he would be spotted at an elegant restaurant in Sinaloa or in a neighboring state. The choreography was always the same. Diners would be startled by a team of gunmen, who would politely but firmly demand their telephones, promising that they would be returned at the end of the evening. Chapo and his entourage would come in and feast on shrimp and steak, then thank the other diners for their forbearance, return the telephones, pick up the tab for everyone, and head off into the night.

What movie is that from again?

Anyway, we also learn about Guzman's ridiculous stint in prison that involved regular meals of filet mignon and lobster bisque; the dozens of "f---'ing cool tunnels" he had constructed to transport drugs, and the secret escape hatches under his bathtubs.