Tastes of Charleston

Final impressions of Charleston wouldn't be complete without, well, impressions themselves.  In a

final thought of the city, Charleston is a sort of throwback to the dying values of charm and authenticity, something many American travelers complain about when they visit any number of other urban hub alternatives including Chicago, Minneapolis, Seattle, or even NYC itself.  In an attempt to clean-up pockets of modern cities, travel centers have become somewhat homogenous (I would take plain over crime anyday though), and it's hard to pick-up on what exactly

is the American personality these days except to know that it often shows up in corporate logos like Starbucks and Subway.  Charleston turns all of this upside down – tenants of historic Charleston have to work with what they've got, and so Husk is in an old three-story residence

with a little city yard and veranda; the Inn at Middleton is an old facilities building; the Grill 225 is a part and parcel of the City Market. There are new buildings – especially in the wake of earth shaking

hurricanes – but that architecture, for the most part, stays within that standard of southern charm and preservation.  "New" is everywhere, but it comes in the form of remod, not always tear down.  Rainbow Row, known as the oldest string of Georgian architecture in America, looks fresh

and lively up against a sheet of sunshine in a way that modern dullness has a hard time competing with.  Cobblestones roads, once a concoction of quarried rock and oyster shells, still stand as main

line roads. Small gardens, not ostentatiously set out in front of small homes, but hidden like tropical mysteries barely seen from

tilted wrought iron gates, provide the passer-by with the beginnings of stories but not ends.  Pineapple fence posts indicate old city symbols for visitors welcome, and later show as fountains

down by a waterfront which does merge the old and new wisely without the common rush of neon signs.  What is created, on purpose or by accident, is not an American city at all, but old-world

Europe.  Only in the mazes of Nice, Venice, Aix en Provence, Paris and who knows how many others can you find the magical authenticity of the travelers dream: "what might lie around the next corner?"

To double this with extremely low crime rates is likely an enormous reason why Charleston has topped out many lists as the number one travel destination in America for several years in a row now.  One night, as Jan and I found an hour or two to get out of the room on our own, we thought and thought about where we could walk to that was within a block or two for a drink and a bite.  I mentioned I saw a miniature sign that said Jazz on it half a block away, didn't even remember the name.  We scooted quickly across the street and could hear the faint toot of a horn warming up inside.  The hostess was kind but said the Mezzanine was right now full as far as she could tell and the band was starting in a couple of minutes.  She smiled and ducked quickly upstairs to take a final look – this was to be a recorded session of the house band and tickets had been reserved in advance.  She said if you come up, maybe we could work something out, so we did and stood up near the bar for a few minutes until the band members themselves

cleared from their bar seats, which we took and listened at what I came to realize later was the number one jazz venue in the city.  When a city itself is art, anything is possible.  

Tastes of Charleston

Most of the reliable guidebooks to Charleston advise that in order to get to know the South Carolinian 'Lowcountry,' you have to get out of the city, out onto the marshy lowlands and the ocean itself.  In other words, don't just get stuck walking around the French Quarter of the city looking for your next meal the whole while ...."get out on the water!" Flying over Charleston in an approach to the city, it becomes obvious that what truly dominates the scene isn't merely the city on the peninsula, but the networks of nearly perfectly cut water trails through the lush

green high rising flora and fauna, as well as the nearby 65 degree wave-lapping beaches.  As  

Folly Beach, 15 minutes away from downtown Charleston

our resident trip advisor for this vacation, I thought the kayaking tour around the Middleton Place might suit us well,

a place that is recognized as an ongoing symbol of the low country.  Middleton is internationally acclaimed not only for its history (family as members of original Continental Congress, and a Signer of the Declaration of Independence), but for its gardens, considered the oldest and finest in America.  What better way to get to know the 110 acres (65 acre garden), than kayaking around its outskirts in among the man made rice fields (alligators included) and tidal marshes guided by Captain Luke, whose website Heart Marsh Outfitters begins with the only three words you need to know: "Nature-History-Adventure" ...

Middleton Place Trail Network

Garden grounds overlooking the creek we just kayaked

Dinner bell...sounds familiar

Further along the tour – for those of us who like water, history, adventure, nature, but are still looking for their next meal – there happens to be quaintest little restaurant on this side of the Ashley River,

where the tea is sweet and the shrimp and grits, the local meal, would be hard to imagine better at any old Husk, SNOB, Grill 225 or 39 Rue de Jean.

Tastes of Charleston

After a morning of strolling around the city Farmer's Market on saturday, we had some choices to make

on our third day in Charleston – the air was heavy, hot and predicted to rise up into a heat index of over a 110 degrees.  On a walking tour of a southern city located directly on the top of tidal marshes, heat can change your plans some...although you might not guess it by the masses of college students

walking and biking around the mazes of city streets.  The girls found some relief by picking up water guns in the park, then slipping into a smoothie shop to cool from the inside out.  Carly and I decided to hoof it a couple of miles down Calhoun St. to the South Carolina Aquarium for some indoor entertainment.  After a few stops in some public coolers (Starbucks, Public Library), we finally found what turned out to be a very worthwhile excursion.  The Aquarium is known for its contributions in sea

All Sea Turtle species currently on extinction list. Without the aid of bio-medical
assistance such as found at aquarium these grand creatures might no longer exist

turtle rehabilitation – both the Florida and South Carolina coasts as birthing grounds for what have been called the most prehistoric creature still living on earth.  When visiting zoos and aquariums, sometimes you don't see a thing, but sometimes you get lucky and see the very animal in the very pose you hope for.   Carly had a moment on this visit when she sat down on the bench leaning in toward the aquarium window to look at the two circling blue sharks, when our prehistoric friend decided to swim down to our corner and nestled in the rocks for a little eye contact and a great little photo op.

We petted some fiddler crabs and sting rays, watched the Pelicans being fed on the shore of an outdoor

mango creek, then moved onto the final stages of the Madagascar lemur cage (top pic Carly inside the display), and then into gift shop for turtle sweatshirts, books and movies.  On our way out, we decided we might take the covered trolley back closer to our room, and a police officer walked over to us and handed us two

cold bottles of water and mentioned that the heat had risen to 117.  This time we travelled in air conditioning and plotted our next two excursions to be inside at the Charleston Museum and the restaurant 39 Rue de Jean for a little slice of Paris (ratatouille for Julia!)

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.

Tastes of Charleston

We were glad our tour guide Denny Stiles knew the City Hall armed guard at the entrance.  It was our first morning in Charleston and we took a great leap in booking a tour guide

who, thankfully it turns out, said he didn't really dumb down his tours for kids.  Denny was
an ex-Air Force Pilot, a poet, an historian, a dad of five himself, and gave it to you straight.  So we found ourselves in places like the upstairs of the temporarily vacant city hall  

Washington portrait in between two white wall statues

chambers (the guard gave us the keys...she loved Denny) where we were able to stand, alone, inches away from an original Trumbull painting of George Washington, who had visited the city in 1791 with an enormous entourage as part of the very first of its kind American Presidential Tour.  Washington visited local dignitaries (several original signers of Declaration of Independence from Charleston), dined, drank and worshiped in the Church box of the then Royal Governor (visitors can touch the wood Washington sat in).

View of the Pulpit from church box Washington visited, Tiffany stained glass in the background

We went on to learn why the city was called the Holy City (a massive hodge podge of world religions congregated here including the countries largest synagogue), about its eclectic and often colorful architecture,

its pirate legacy (Blackbeard once patrolled the harbor), its slave-trading past, and its unprecedented importance in both the Revolutionary and Civil Wars (first shots of Civil War shot in Charleston!).

As we finished our tour at the historic Battery Park,

which stands on the peninsular end of the city overlooking the harbor

we took Denny's recommendation for the best lunch in town, ducked down to the end of the park for a quick cool down near Vendue St.,

and onto SNOB, the wise-cracking title that stands for "Slightly North of Broad" (making fun of a street name often associated with food a little less than savory north of the line)

and sat down for what we decided later that week in our room at Restoration on King, our
greatest and most memorable find of where the locals eat.

The Tao of Food

"Trees in winter lose their leaves.  Some trees may even fall during storms, but most stand patiently and bear their fortune."












The recipe called for a Cornish game hen, split apart by kitchen shears, seasoned, then laid down on a roasting pan to heat.  The game hens at the store were still rock solid frozen and would likely take upwards of 30 minutes to defrost in a sink of lukewarm water.  Even then, often the middle cavity of the small hens are still cold and crystallized and a chore to cut.  I seasoned six drumsticks and two split breasts instead, pan fried them to brown and sear the seasoning onto the skin (roasting does a wonderful job cooking interior meat slowly, but does not do the browning itself).  Over the top,

I laid down long slender slices of yams and cucumbers – cutting each of those the long way into eights or even skinnier depending on the size of the original vegetable.  The steam from the chicken batch rose up to steam the vegetables, which came out tender, colorful, and good for you.  Carly ate four drumsticks, Abby looked over the edge of the pan for more cucumbers.