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Lansing, Michigan, United States
I am a Lansing townie, lawyer, and restaurant reviewer for the City Pulse. I love traveling, reading, yoga, and baking, but my favorite hobby is stuffing my face.

Saturday, November 3, 2012


Last week I got disappointing news from the Board of Law Examiners. I, along with 437 other exam-takers, failed the bar exam. But it's ok. Michigan is thankfully a state that allows appeals of bar exam scores, so I will wage an argument and hope that the Board of Law Examiners awards me two more points.

Yes, two points. That's all I need.

Anyweekspentbeingmadattheworld, my friendsicles have been great. And I needed that. Yesterday I met up with one of my very smartest friends for lunch. He told me a story about a test that he had to take a bunch of times. It made me feel better. It also made me happy that I want to be a lawyer and not a doctor, because MAN doctors have to take some insane exams.

We went to Champps in the Eastwood Towne Center. Why the extra "p" in the name? Why, why?

I'm trying to decide upon one menu item that will become my "thing." You know what I mean? Like, my brother always get a club sandwich. I used to get Philly cheesesteaks, but I'm over that. At Champps I got the Kobe burger, but I'm thinking that something a little more nuanced should be my thing instead. Buffalo chicken sandwich? Patty melt? I need input.

So, the Kobe burger was fine. I particularly liked two things about it- the mayonnaise was already spread on the bun, and the cheese was perfectly broiled. Bubbly.

However, I HATE shredded lettuce. It falls out of the bun and is stupid. I would never request a leaf of lettuce while ordering a burger because I recognize that that would make me sound like a complete jerk, so I will just suffer in silence and be a tiny bit crestfallen every time I see a plate come out with shredded lettuce atop the bun.

But the burger was fine. Nothing remarkable, but solid. We also had crab bread for an appetizer, which was heinous. If there was really supposed to be crab on the bread, as the name implies, I'm sad to report that I didn't see or taste any. The bread itself reminded me of that French bread that I used to eat before swim practice in the form of Stauffer's French bread pizza. Why is that stuff called French bread? It is completely unlike a crusty, thin, gloriously-roof-of-mouth-ripping French baguette.

But, you know, America #1 and all.

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