Tastes of Charleston

We had arranged two major food pilgrimages on our trip to Charleston – one was to visit Husk, the by

now southern mecca for new southern cuisine, and Grill 225, the southern mecca for representing

the traditional steak house.  My own bets, based on so much reading of the hubbub over the new, were placed down on Husk as the more likely of the two to be one of those places you have to be prodded away from the table.  Yet it was 225 that took the jackpot.  Located at the tail end of the open air city

market at the norther end of East Bay, 225 started us out with dangerously unique Nitrotini,

a blended martini infused with dry ice.  Nitrotinis are to be served by bartenders with certificates for pouring the concoction that cannot be drunk for at least three minutes because of its 320 degree temperature (the waiter said it might scratch the throat a little bit if you sipped it right away). The waiters, in white jackets, come out of the kitchen in tandem to serve and bring your eventual entrees out on steak carts.  Janet got the Oscar Filet, Julia an 8 oz. Mignon, and Carly and I

split Lamb Chops that were the best – possibly the best red meat – I had ever had.  Old school table portions of spinach and mashed sweet potatoes rounded out the main course while Sinatra bellowed in the corners of the dining room as if he were walking the room in person.  To lure us ever closer to favoring the old to the new was a chocolate mousse cake that I am fairly certain was picked up at one point inside Carly's palm and smashed into her mouth. Little Sweet Tooth couldn't get enough.  There are steakhouses, and then there is The Grill 225.

Where the Grill oozed southern formality, Husk offered waiters in Levis plaid and modern day haircuts, friendly, laid back and helpful with Julia's no-lactose needs.  We started with the best oysters on earth, shucked, but recapped, and broiled with a sauce simmering inside; a plate of mussels and bread as soft as small pillows.

It was at Husk that Julia out-did another night's courageous order of Ratatouille by eating pig's ear lettuce wraps... loved them.  I tried the quail; Jan fried catfish; and Carly simple chicken.  Located in the heart of what is called the French Quarter, Husk was a romantically exciting and innovative experience.

Built-in jar preserves cupboard outside bathroom at Husk

Charleston is American history itself.  The restaurant scene in the city right now is not so much a clashing of the old and the new but a fusion that feels like new history being made as you eat.