If I worked at a restaurant, I’d be planting fake engagement rings in every woman’s food, just to see boyfriends panic.
For now, I’m simply a patron. And my friends and I tried a great new restaurant in Hollywood called Birch. The name is a nod to the chef’s hometown in England, where he grew up near a copse of birch trees. I like the piece of branch stitched to the menu. By the way, a “copse” is a British word for a small group of trees. Use it three times and it’s yours.
My new choice for a last meal is Birch’s lobster ravioli. It replaces the McRib, which is only available every six months, and would have bought me some time.
The proof is the milk pudding. And by “proof”, I mean wafers, chocolate ice cream and meringues. It’s four desserts in one – in one belly, that is.
