I also felt slightly queasy reading the Journal — apparently the last American newspaper with an absurd travel budget — on where the two candidates eat out when they eat out. I guess it made more sense than comparing arugula and orange juice, but it had a decided taint of stalking to it. (Or maybe I’m just worried some restaurateur will give up the goods on my second glass of wine at lunch.) Overall, the Great Black Hope comes off as the more sophisticated diner, even if he does — as the father of two young kids — succumb to a funky pizza place way too often. The Old Guy at least knows his Arizona-Mex even if the critic didn’t (I would kill for those enchiladas), but I was floored by his driving all the way to Jerome from Cornville for a BLT. The millionaires’ cuisine, after all, is right there in Sedona. Note to this campaign’s Panchito: Check the ZIP Code on the BBQ’d ribs you love so much.