When I was in my 20s, I lived in L.A. for a couple of years. Two of my friends and I had a tradition where we would take the third one out to one of the city’s nicer restaurants for dinner on her birthday. The one restaurant we couldn’t afford was L’Orangerie, but one year we decided to splurge and go there for dessert and coffee afterwards. And that was the first time I had crème brûlée.
Oh. My. God.