Fun fact: I got married at a BJ's Restaurant. During a six-month period when I lived in a Southern California suburb surrounded by giant, generic chain restaurants like Applebee's and Outback Steakhouse, my future husband and I developed an unexpected affection for the doughy deep-dish pizzas and hot-pink strawberry lemonades at the local BJ's. Not to mention the Pizookie, a cookie baked in a small cake pan, served hot and gooey with ice cream scooped on top. The Pizookie had a lot to do with it, come to think of it.
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