Pearlz (downtown)

Your average twentysomething Charlestonian has consumed Pearlz's (Pearlz'?) food many times, but I hesitate to say many have actually eaten it. Among my peers, Pearlz is best known for their oyster shooters: a raw gulf oyster is shucked and dropped in a shot glass where it hovers, almost prenatally, in a slurry of pepper vodka and cocktail sauce. There's fierce debate over whether to chew the oyster or just swallow it whole, but either way probably doesn't give a fair shake to the kitchen's capabilities.

On a particularly dreary Thursday evening, Maggie and I trudged to Pearlz with our mutual friend Carly who was visiting from New York. We settled in at one of the long communal tables that form a nave through the center of the restaurant. Most days Pearlz is well lit from the bank of windows facing East Bay St, but this particular evening the restaurant was calm and moody, complimenting the dark wood furniture and exposed cement frescoes.

We ordered a dozen Gulf oysters on the half shell. The Gulf oysters are often the cheapest single oysters available, but I think they're often the best. Call me unsophisticated, but to me the most important characteristic of an oyster is size. Frankly, the really big ones freak me out. They're gross. I'm sure someone out there will try to convince me of the merits of such-and-such an oyster, with its superior flavor profile, particular texture, etc, but if it's too big, forget it. The Gulf oysters are delicious, inexpensive, and have the good sense to stop growing when appropriate.

Pearlz' head shucker (I'm not sure if that's the actual title, but he introduced himself as Chief (I'm equally unsure that's his actual name) and couldn't have been nicer) judiciously inspects each oyster, either shucking it and serving immediately onto a bed of ice, or discarding it. Maggie, Carly, and I took them down as fast as Chief could produce them. Just great.

Our food took a little longer than I would have liked to arrive, but was hot and fresh when it did. Maggie's lobster roll was enthusiastically toasted to a slight burn, which I actually liked, and filled with plenty of buttery, mayo-covered lobster salad. I thought I detected a bit of crab meat, but it was difficult to tell. Either way it was decadent and fantastic. My hamburger (yes, I ordered a hamburger) was perhaps slightly undercooked, but tasted perfectly of grill char without loosing its meatiness or flavor. The wildcard dish of the night was Carly's crab pizza. Though it looked enough like a pizza, the flavor profile was something else entirely: salty, tangy, and from the ocean. While not unpleasant, it took some getting used to and wasn't necessarily what any of us expected.

Pearlz is not in the same league as the heavy-hitters of Charleston cuisine, but for the price I'd find it tough to beat their winning combination of fun, upscale atmosphere and fresh, well made food. I'll have a hard time resisting a few appetizers next time I'm there for a drink.

153 East Bay St

Charleston, SC 29401

(843) 577-5755

Flavor Tripping at Caviar & Bananas

Caviar and Bananas is not on the list of restaurants this blog intended to cover, but sometimes opportunity calls and in response you have eat obscure West-African berries. And so we did.

For the uninitiated, "flavor tripping" has been quite the rage in gastronomy circles for the last year or two. A small, red berry, known colloquially as Miracle Fruit (and pedantically as Synsepalum dulcificum), is what the excitement is all about. A chemical in the berry's flesh does something very scientific and undoubtedly complex to the tongue that makes everything taste as though it were mixed with one-too-many packets of Splenda. Flavor tripping popped up on the radar in Charleston some months back with a Guerilla Cuisine event catering to the bizarre effects of the Miracle Fruit. Caviar and Bananas has gamely brought it back to the city for a second go-round.

Settling into our table at C&B, Maggie and I gnoshed away on the flesh of a small, red berry for a minute or so, allowing the juice to coat the inside of the mouth. Most of us trippers at this C&B event were first timers. Anxious glances and hushed questions raced across the tables, each group worrying that they did not apply the berry correctly.

"Should I eat the seeds?"

"Don't eat the seeds!"

"What seeds? There's a pit - should I eat the pit?"

"I think I missed a spot near my molars."

Some more instruction from the staff couldn't have hurt, but a lot of worries proved unfounded as we slugged back shots of balsamic vinegar, mistaking it for Port, and sucked suddenly-sweet lemons to the last drop.

Ignoring the tastes for a moment, the effect itself was difficult to measure. On one hand, sights and smells did not change, so the oeuvre of the lemon was complete as I brought it to my mouth. And though the taste was utterly unlemonlike, it did not seem particularly strange. My mind was clear, my senses functioning, and all was right with the world. I found myself wondering "Might a lemon have always tasted this way? How often do I eat a raw lemon anyway? This berry is hardly doing a thing!".

In this sense, it was a trip of the highest order. My mouth didn't feel funny and there was nothing beside my second-guessable memories to indicate that a fresh lemon ought to taste of anything other than faintly flavored sugar. The unremarkableness of the whole experience tied my brain in a knot.

The highlight of the experience, unquestionably, was a simple goat cheese tart. Consisting of nothing more than pie crust and warm goat cheese, the unaromatic tart blossomed in the mouth into a perfectly balanced bite of cheesecake. Our waiter explained that diet restaurants have sprung up in Japan, serving unsweetened, low calorie food like this to patrons under the influence of the small red berries.

I wish there were more foods to sample at C&B, lord knows they have enough on hand. I've also heard great things about the berry's effects on the flavor of liquor. I'd like try it again, maybe in the comfort of home with a few friends and foods of my choosing. In the end, flavor tripping is and will always remain a gimmick, but that doesn't mean it's not fun.

Bambu

Come with me once again fellow gastronauts, as we journey across the Ravenel to Bambu (sic).

The occasion: A double date with our neighbors before heading off to Boone Hall Fright Nights to get in the Halloween spirit. Also, it's Thursday.

The relatively new (have they even established a Cougar Night yet?) Bambu in Mt. Pleasant is strikingly chic in its strip-mall-esque surroundings. Situated in the Moultrie Plaza shopping center, it shares parking with the likes of Senor Tequila's, Boater's World, and Wild Wings. But Bambu immediately distinguishes itself - a beautifully configured outdoor area houses a cabanalike bar, tasteful rock gardens, and ample seating. Inside is not quite as compelling, but decorative touches like jellyfish lanterns and hand painted wall treatments made me feel well cared-for.

Thanks to the double date we managed to sample a number of appetizers off Bambu's unnecessarily large menu. The Edamame Spinach dip stood out in particular. It arrived piping hot with fried Wonton chips I would have happily eaten dry. Well into our appetizers though, we were still spelunking through the menu trying to decide on main courses.

I'm not sure if it was a function of menu size, but they were out of two types of beer my friend ordered and the main course (lo mein) that I wanted. The waiter did a good job of recommending an alternative (fried rice with beef, rice, and chicken - savory and satisying), but if the menu is regularly this inconsistent I'd like to see Bambu scale back the ambition.

All said and done, the food was on par with other upscale Asian bistros (PF Chang's comes to mind). The sushi was well made and fresh and the service fast. I wish the menu was a bit more prescriptive, but the overall experience was definitely positive. The outdoor area really sets Bambu apart, and I can't think of many other places I would rather sit outdoors and have a drink and appetizers. I imagine I'll be back soon, if not for dinner, then for a nice evening with friends.