A Bird in the Hand….

So lookit. It’s been a long time.  I get that you’re probably wondering if I’ve crawled into a cave with Channing Tatum, but the truth is, he’s married.  I know you don’t want to hear excuses, but I wrapped my show The LA Complex (watch that shit here if you’re in the Canadas or on Hulu if you get to vote for Obama), I moved houses, I took four trips to four different locales for four different conventions, and I slept. A lot. Or slept-walked through the shoe department at Holt Renfrew, but listen: I’m back.

And I’m in love.

For those of you that loyally read this mess, it’s true that I’ve gone on many a tangent about my beautiful, beloved city of Vancouver. But can you blame me?  Besides being the place of my birth, which already defines it as a Holy Land, it’s a totally unique and intoxicating little haven of yoga-worshipping, green-living do-gooders, pretty little beaches surrounded in snow-capped mountains, artsy hipster types and charming expats and culturally diverse pockets of neighbourhood that make it the expansive and always expanding city that it is.  Sure, it rains a lot.  But we choose to view it as a romantic thing.  Ever seen a movie where the once-was-doomed couple reconcile while kissing in the sunshine?  Rain = more make-outs. Trust.  Also, I saw Ryan Gosling here once.

So I need to fill you in on my new favorite lunch spot in the ‘Couv, because it is not to be missed if you ever find yourself here in the city of make-outs.  It’s teeny, so you may end up waiting for a table, but suck it up, Princess. It’s called Finch’s, it’s on West Pender, and if you like delicious things, it’s going to change your world.

Finch’s likes to call themselves a teahouse, and yeah, you can probably get a tea here if you’re one of those, but that’s not what all the fuss is about.  Whoever the mastermind is that’s responsible for this place has perfected two of the lunch items I desire most on this planet: sandwiches and cookies.  These are not your ordinary sandwiches. Freshly baked baguettes stuffed with obscene amounts of premium ingredients like prosciutto with blue brie, pear, and roasted walnuts, or gypsy salami with red leaf lettuce, tomato, and pesto-mayo.  They even have vegetarian versions with smoked applewood cheddar, cucumber, and dijon-mayo, or free-range egg salad, or baked brie and grape…. It’s ridiculous.  If you’re one of those freaks that stays away from bread (seriously, is everything okay?), they have insanely generous cheese plates, beautiful salads, and an always-amazing soup of the day, too.

But lemme go off about these cookies.  I’ve got a soft spot for a good cookie, and next to cheese burgers and Valentino purses, they are my biggest weakness. Finch’s cookies are misshapen lumps of doughy, sweet, crumbly, buttery messes of glory.  I have been known to horde them on my person for an attitude adjustment if one is needed throughout the day.  I don’t understand why they are so good, and I don’t think I want to.  I just want them in my mouth.  There are two kinds, chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin, and I’m sure I don’t have to say it out loud, but go with the chocolate chip and do not for the love of Christ buy just one. They sell out fast, and you need to be smart about this.  Also, Finch’s on the whole is becoming rather popular, so get there before 3pm to avoid the disaster of them running out of baguettes or WORSE, COOKIES.

Only gripe?  They don’t serve wine.  And this bird enjoys a little Sancerre with her baguette. In other news by the way of things that don’t surprise you, stay tuned for yet another wine-tasting blog, as well as a rather messy “afternoon tea” excursion with The Wives. How much you wanna bet Buzz is going to get us kicked out of that tea parlour?