Hi. It’s me again. The 10-year-old food expert who actually knows what’s going on.
My mom (you know, the one who thinks she runs this blog) has let me use the computer again, probably because she’s busy trying to figure out how to use the “boomerang” feature on Instagram without looking like she’s having a seizure.
Anyway, I need to tell you about last night.
Last night was supposed to be a normal night. A glorious, beautiful, parent-free(ish) night. It was a PLAYDATE. My friend—let’s call her “Friend 1” because privacy is important—was over. My 7-year-old sister, who is… well, she’s 7, also had her friend over, “Friend 2.”
So, the house was full. We had four girls, a solid army of giggling, high-energy, and frankly, starving human beings. The plan was simple: watch a movie, eat pizza, and make fun of my sister.
Then, the sky broke.
I’m not talking about a little L.A. “mist.” I’m talking about a full-on, Biblical-level, “find two of every animal” kind of rain. The kind of rain that makes parents look at each other with pure, unfiltered terror.
This is when the night went sideways.
🌩️ The Great 90049 Flood and the Parent Panic
You have to understand, adults in Los Angeles cannot drive in the rain. They just can’t. It’s not in their programming. They act like the car is going to melt.
My mom and dad were staring out the window like they’d just seen a zombie.
Dad: “Well, we’re not going far.” Mom: “It’s pouring.” Me: “So… pizza? Is the delivery guy coming on a boat?” Friend 1: “My mom says driving in the rain is statistically dangerous.” (She’s one of those kids).
Then, all four of us, in a perfect, rehearsed chorus that we definitely didn’t practice, said: “Can we go out to dinner?”
The parents looked at us like we’d just asked for a pet giraffe.
Mom: “Out? In this? It’s dark. It’s wet. The 405 is probably a parking lot.” Me: “But it’s a special occasion! It’s… a rainy playdate!” 7-Year-Old Sister: “I’m HUNGGGGGGRY!” (This is her only personality trait).
A negotiation began. It was intense. We, the “Playdate Army,” were on one side. The “Parental Units,” with their “logic” and “safety concerns,” were on the other.
We had leverage. Four kids, all “starving,” is a very powerful negotiating tool. The noise level was rising. The “I’m bored” was starting to bubble up. The parents were cracking.
Dad: “Okay, fine! FINE! We will go out. But it has to be close. Like, 90049-close. I am not driving to Santa Monica. I am not going downtown. We are going somewhere in Brentwood. Five minutes. Tops.”
Victory.
But where? This is the ultimate 90049-area playdate dinner challenge.
📍 The “Top Places” Veto List
My mom, trying to be helpful, started listing places.
- “What about that nice Italian place?”
- Veto: Too quiet. They use cloth napkins. Cloth napkins mean “don’t you dare laugh.” We are an army of four. We will be laughing.
- “What about sushi?”
- Veto: My sister’s friend thinks “seaweed” is what you find in your bathtub drain. Also, raw fish and 7-year-olds? Bad combo.
- “What about that fancy place with the small plates?”
- Veto: “Small plates” is just a code word for “you will still be hungry and it will cost 1,000 dollars.”
We needed somewhere with a few key ingredients:
- Loud: Not “concert” loud, but “busy” loud, so no one notices when my sister inevitably drops a fork and screams “OH NO, MY FORK!”
- Booths: We are a party of six. We need to be contained. Booths are like a mini-fort.
- Kid-Friendly Food: This means a menu that doesn’t just have “quinoa” and “kale.”
- Adult-Friendly Food: This means a place where my mom can get her “special purple juice” and my dad can get something that wasn’t cooked in a microwave.
Dad: “I got it. We’re going to Wood Ranch.”
…Genius. Pure, unadulterated genius.
🪵 Mission: Wood Ranch BBQ & Grill (Brentwood)
The drive was, as predicted, terrifying for my parents and hilarious for us. It was maybe six minutes, but my dad was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.
We ran from the car through the rain, which was actually super fun, and burst into the restaurant.
Let me tell you about Wood Ranch BBQ & Grill in Brentwood.
The second you walk in, you know you’re in the right place. First, it was packed. This is a good sign. It means the food is good, and it means (see item #1) it’s LOUD. The sound of people talking and laughing hit us, and it was perfect.
Second, it smells like heaven. If heaven smells like barbecue sauce and garlic bread. Which I’m pretty sure it does.
Third, it was dim and cozy. The lighting is low, the booths are huge and dark wood, and the whole place felt like a warm cave we had found in the middle of the rain-pocalypse.
My dad checked in, and even though it was a super busy night, the people at the front were really nice. They didn’t even look annoyed that we were four dripping-wet kids. They saw our army of six and found us a giant, U-shaped booth in the back.
It was perfect. We slid in. The Playdate Army was on one side, Parents on the other. Battle lines were drawn.
🍸 Phase 1: The Parent-Pacification Potion
A server came over right away. He was awesome. He looked at us, looked at the parents, and knew exactly what to do.
Server: “Folks, can I get you something to drink? Looks like a rough night out there.” Mom: “Yes. Please. I need… a Blackberry-Pom Martini.” Dad: “And I’ll get an… I don’t care, a water (because I am driving)”
My mom’s drink came out. It was bright purple and looked like a science experiment. She took one sip and her entire face relaxed. The stress of the rain, the drive, and her two annoying children just melted away. She said it was “delicious” and “exactly what she needed.”
This, kids, is called “pacifying the adults.” It’s a critical first step to a successful dinner.
We just got lemonades. Because, you know. We’re 10.
🍞 Phase 2: The Appetizer Apocalypse
We were hungry. Not “oh, I could eat” hungry. We were “I might eat my own hand” hungry.
Mom: “Let’s get the Spinach-Artichoke Dip! It’s hot and comfy.”
Okay, so this is where things get scientific. The dip came. It was hot, bubbly, and green. It came with a huge pile of tortilla chips and a side of salsa.
Now, a rule: Kids under 12 have a “Green Food Detector.” If a food is primarily green (and isn’t a Jolly Rancher), we are suspicious.
- The Adults: “OH MY GOSH, this dip is amazing!” They were scooping it up, saying how “creamy” and “flavorful” it was.
- The Kids (All Four of Us): No. We’re not eating the hot green goo.
BUT. The chips? A+. The salsa? A+. We, the Playdate Army, formed an alliance. We created a chip-and-salsa-only zone on our side of the table. The parents could have their hot cheese-spinach. We would crush the chips. It was a perfect compromise.
But then.
Then the server brought the hot garlic bread rolls.
I am not exaggerating. These were not “rolls.” These were fluffy, hot, garlic-and-butter-covered clouds. They were like tiny pillows of joy. They were AMAZING.
The four of us kids descended on that basket like a pack of wolves. There was no talking. There was only the sound of tearing bread and happy silence. We ate the whole basket in about 30 seconds.
When the server walked by, he just smiled, “You guys want more of those?”
We all just nodded, mouths full. He brought two more baskets. He was a hero.
🍖 Phase 3: The Main Event (THE RIBS)
This is what we came for. This is the whole point of Wood Ranch.
My mom tried to read the kids’ menu to my sister. “Look, they have chicken fingers… mac and cheese…”
My sister, in the bravest moment of her 7-year-old life, looked at the server and said, “I want ribs.”
He didn’t even blink. “Great choice.”
Here’s the thing: all four of us girls got ribs. We all got the kids’ menu ribs. And let me tell you, this is the way to do it.
My meal: Baby Back Ribs with a side of mashed potatoes. Friend 1: Ribs with a side of “Lauren’s Favorite Macaroni & Cheese.” (She said it was “so cheesy” and I was very jealous). The Little Ones: Kids’ ribs with fries.
They all came out, and the booth went silent again.
This is the ultimate comfort food. Especially on a cold, rainy night, there is nothing better than a plate of hot, saucy, fall-off-the-bone ribs and a pile of mashed potatoes. It’s a scientific fact that hot, carb-heavy foods can actually improve your mood, as they are often tied to positive memories and a sense of safety. I’m pretty sure my brain was releasing all the happy chemicals.
This is also a good time to drop some knowledge on you. My mom makes me read “educational” stuff. Did you know that barbecue ribs, the kind we were all eating, used to be considered “waste”? Apparently, back in the 19th century in places like “Porkopolis” (which is a real place, I looked it up), meatpackers were so busy shipping other cuts of pork that they had tons of ribs left over and would just give them away for free. It wasn’t until later that people realized, “Hey, if you cook these for a long time, they’re basically the best food ever.” So, we were eating something that used to be garbage. (Don’t tell my sister that, she’ll get weird about it).
The point is, the food was so good. All four of us cleaned our plates. My sister had BBQ sauce from her nose to her chin. It was a work of art.
📈 The Kid-Friendliness Report Card
Let’s break down why this place is the perfect playdate location.
- Service: A+. Our server was fast, he was funny, and he understood the “we need 400 napkins” vibe of our table. Even though the restaurant was crazy busy, he kept checking on us.
- The Booth: A+. The “fort-like” nature of the U-booth meant we were contained. We could talk and laugh without bothering the date-night couple next to us.
- The Kid’s Menu: A+. It has all the hits, including a kid-sized portion of the real food (ribs!), not just chicken nuggets.
- Noise Level: A++. It was a perfect, happy hum of a busy restaurant.
- Overall Vibe: A++. It’s nice enough that parents feel like they’re having a “real” night out, but casual enough that kids can be kids.
This kind of social eating is actually super important. My parents read a study from the American Academy of Pediatrics that says playdates are key to helping kids learn social skills, regulate emotions, and handle stress. And honestly, I think negotiating who gets the last garlic roll is a very advanced social skill. Eating together like this, with our friends, teaches us how to share, how to talk, and how to not be a total savage… (mostly).
🎂 Phase 4: The Grand Finale (aka The Only Part That Really Matters)
The server came back. He looked at the four kids, who were all now in a rib-induced coma, and said the magic words:
“Did we save any room for dessert?”
YES. WE. DID. We always have room for dessert. There is a separate stomach for dessert. Everyone knows this.
This is where the parents and kids split.
For the Parents: They ordered the Warm Butter Cake. My mom is very serious about butter cake. She said this one was “fantastic.” It was warm and gooey, with a crispy edge, and came with ice cream. She and my dad ate the whole thing.
For the Kids: We went tactical. We got two different desserts.
- The Oreo Snowball: This thing was WILD. It was a giant ball of vanilla bean ice cream, rolled in crushed-up Oreo cookies. Then (as if that wasn’t enough) they put it in a bowl and poured hot caramel and fudge sauce all over it. It was… I’m getting emotional just thinking about it. We attacked it with our spoons.
- The Flourless Chocolate Cake: My friend is one of those “I love dark chocolate” people. This was for her. It was this super-rich, dense, chocolatey… thing. It was more “adult” but it was so good.
It was the perfect end. All six of us were full, happy, and satisfied. The rain was still pouring outside, but inside our cozy booth-cave, we were champions.
Bottom-Line Verdict
Finding a place to take four kids on a playdate in the 90049 area, especially on a rainy night, feels like an impossible mission. The parents want nice, the kids want fun, and everyone wants good food.
Wood Ranch in Brentwood is the answer.
It’s the perfect cheat code. The parents get their fancy martinis and delicious dip, and the kids get an avalanche of garlic rolls and ribs. It’s dark, it’s cozy, it’s loud, and the service is great. It’s a 10/10 from me.
We finally wobbled out of the restaurant, back into the rain, but this time, nobody cared. We had been fed. The Playdate Army had won.
About the Author
This post was written by the 10-Year-Old Culinary Blogger (Madeline Graham) , the real food critic in the family. Sometimes she keeps her identity a close-guarded secret to protect her from the paparazzi and her 7-year-old sister, who is known to “borrow” (steal) her stuff. When she’s not reviewing restaurants, she’s probably busy doing her homework (ugh) or planning her next playdate.
READ MORE
If you liked this, my mom sometimes has good ideas, too. You can read more of our family’s food adventures here:
- The 10-Year-Old Culinary Blogger Takes on the LA Scene
- Family Dessert Outings
- Top 10 Family-Friendly Dining Spots in Los Angeles
- A Family-Friendly Dining Experience at Benihana (Encino)
- A Delightful Scoop at Bacio di Latte in Brentwood, California
- Dining Experience at Katsuya Brentwood: A Parent’s Perspective
