Dinner on Thursday

Samos Taverna (Mt. Pleasant)

2010-03-04T05:44:00.000-08:00

The unassuming concrete building is, on closer inspection, purposefully so; featurelessly crafted just enough for you to wonder what's inside. And the tease, aesthetically, delivers. The deeply designed metro-Mediterranean interior calms with dark walls punctured and gashed by white chairs and a marble-slab bar. The wine cellar is plainly visible behind plate glass, the bottles stacked on their sides, end to end and floor to ceiling, the effect like a Escher tessellation come to life on the wall.

Samos is owned by a Greek family that purportedly keeps close tabs on the authenticity of the dishes. To whit: the bulk of the lengthy wine list is Grecian. Maggie and I settled for a simple white table wine that made us feel right at home. Sometimes it's a pleasure not to think too hard.

Our waitress was very knowledgeable, though slightly disengaged. I'm not expecting that we become Facebook friends, but a little eye contact goes a long way. But she is redeemed by a great recommendation of a mussel appetizer. Served in a hot cream & garlic brother, they were as good as we've had anywhere in Charleston, including Rue De Jean (which regularly churns out pots of mussels that shame established seafood restaurants).

I had a hardily-portioned Moussaka that I think was actually quite good, but I had sort of forgotten how Moussaka tasted, and I didn't like it. I'm almost sure this is entirely my fault, and not the Moussaka's. The allspice and cinnamon flavors reminded me a bit too much of Christmas, and it wasn't what I was expecting.

Maggie's orzo & shrimp appeared discombobulated: the orzo on one plate and the shrimp on another for no discernible reason. But the flavors were fresh and distinctly Mediterranean, some assembly required.

For the quality and size of the meal, I was happy to have paid just under $70. Oh wait. That's not quite right. I forgot I had to tip the valet. There is mandatory valet parking at Samos. In Mt. Pleasant. I repeat - mandatory valet parking in Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina. For anyone who lives outside the area, Mt. Pleasant is the type of place where driveways have their own turning lane. It is not hurting for space. I have no idea why Samos requires valet parking. The Taco Bell next door seems to do fine without it. So, $74.

I've spent some time wondering what the "scene" is at Samos. And there is definitely some sort of scene. Between the sleek interior, and a clever indoor/outdoor patio with real fireplaces, there just has to be some kind of crowd that frequents the place later at night. Singles? Couples? Cougars? I'd like to know, but I'm not curious enough to valet my car again.

Samos Taverna

819 Coleman Blvd
Mount Pleasant, SC 29464
(843) 856-5055

Restaurant Week Wrap-up (Blossom & Tristan)

2010-02-10T05:40:00.000-08:00

Restaurant week has come and gone in Charleston. Being a mid-priced city, restaurant week here is a fragile thing. The espoused purpose of a restaurant week (or at least what my interpretation of its purpose has always been) is to offer a representative sampling from the nicer restaurants on the cheap.

In Boston, New York, DC, et al, this works well - a $35 dinner at 21 Club or Cafe Boulud is quite the bargain. But in Charleston, things just aren't as pricey. For $35/person, one can escape from most restaurants in town with at least two courses. The vehicles to spend $800 on dinner simply don't exist.

So restaurant week in Charleston toes a fine line. Falling on the successful side of it were both Blossom and Tristan.

Blossom, part of the HMGI-owned East Bay triumvirate that includes Cypress and Magnolias, purports to "take seafood with Southern sensibility to the next level", whatever that means. Marketing pitch aside, if forced to pigeonhole Blossom I would say this - they know how to cook a piece of fish. Both Maggie and I ordered a fish entree - hers a healthy chunk of salmon on tomato-basil risotto, mine an elegantly blackened Mahi Mahi on a grit cake with pickled green tomatoes.

Both were at least 2 inches thick and both were cooked perfectly. And I mean perfectly. There is perhaps a five-second window of perfection when cooking fish - a window I blindly and luckily stumble into every few months on my stove at home, but is otherwise nearly mythical. Blossom's kitchen is apparently capable of cranking out fish like this with the precision of an atomic clock and the regularity of a Metamucil addict.

The accoutrements I found somewhat questionable - oddly sweet pickled tomatoes and a bland grit cake added little to the stellar Mahi Mahi, and Maggie's risotto tasted a bit more like spaghettiO's® than I would have liked. But I chalk this up to the vagaries of restaurant week menus. The impeccable cooking, the friendly and precise service, and the casual-fine-dining atmosphere were as well executed and enjoyable as I've had anywhere. I get warm and fuzzy inside anticipating another meal at Blossom.

----

I didn't see Tristan coming. I knew only that it was smack in the middle Market Street, and that was enough for me to have avoided it until now. When I think of Market Street, I think Bubba Gump Shrimp Co and T-Bonz Grill & Grill (with apologies to the entirely decent Mercato). I didn't expect the technically-advanced cuisine of head chef Nate Whiting and the sleek interior, nearly antithetical to Charleston's aesthetic traditions.

The food is New American with an experimenter's touch of molecular gastronomy. More than Blossom, at Tristan one feels that $35 for three courses is a real bargain. The abbreviated menu was fascinating, yielding enough information to intelligently order, but leaving the presentation and character of each dish a mystery until it was served by our enthusiastic waiter, thrilled to have such brisk business in the middle of January.

This isn't my favorite genre of food, but there is nothing else like it in Charleston. Tristan reminds us that every now and then it's refreshing to break from the charm of the Holy City and feel a bit more metropolitan.

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Blossom Cafe
171 East Bay Street, Charleston, SC 29401-2126
(843) 722-9200‎

Tristan Restaurant

55 South Market Street, Charleston, SC 29401-2004
(843) 534-2155

Alluette's Jazz Cafe

2010-01-21T05:00:00.000-08:00

How to even start.

At the beginning, I suppose.

4:15pm - Maggie sends me a text. She wants to see some Sinatra-esque music and go dancing. Sounds like a plan. Except...Charleston really doesn't have anything like that. I fire up Google and discover Porgy's Other Place, a jazz cafe I dimly recall seeing while waiting in line at Trio. This is where we'll go.

5:30pm - My friend Adam calls to see if we're up to anything. I explain The Plan. He and his girlfriend will join us for dinner at 8:30pm.

7:30pm - I start getting nervous about the menu, since I haven't seen it. Many Google searches later I discover that Porgy's has in fact closed. But I swear I've seen a jazz cafe recently in that location. I Google the address (137 Calhoun St). It appears Porgy's closed and reopened in June 2009 as Alluette's Jazz Cafe. Digging a little more, there is an Alluette's Cafe (evidently of the non-jazz variety) on Reid St. downtown that serves "organic soul food". The titular Alluette Jones recently expanded to the aforementioned Calhoun St. location, opening the jazz cafe with an abbreviated version of the original cafe's menu. The reviews for the original location are great, but I cannot find a single review of the new location. Odd, but I am assuaged.

8:30pm - We arrive. There is no band in sight and the place is abandoned, save two customers seated at opposite ends of the bar. I make up elaborate backstories for them. Tony and Will used to be friends (played together in a billiards league, in fact) and would often get a postprandial cocktail together at Alluette's to escape their wives. But after a Craigslist lawnmower deal went south (what a coincidence that it was Will anonymously selling his mower, and that it was none other than Tony who replied!), they aren't on speaking terms, though both continue to frequent Alluette's, preferring the improvisations of the Oscar Rivers Trio to their wives complaining about window treatments.

My daydreaming is interrupted by a woman in an overcoat who asks us why we are here. I realize she is a waitress, though she looks more customer. We tell her we're in for dinner. She seems genuinely shocked, but recovers quickly and leads us to a table in the back, near the stage.

8:40pm - Adam and his girlfriend, Carly, arrive. Adam didn't bring a jacket in spite of the cold weather. As the evening wears on, this proves an ill-fated decision.

8:45pm - We order drinks. I ask what types of beer are available. Our waitress starts slowly naming the standard domestics, but also lists something called "Red Fire" that I've never heard of, and wind up ordering.

8:50pm - My "Fat Tire" arrives. Surreal service experience begins in earnest. We order some lamb sandwiches and tilapia off the sparse menu.

9:30pm - Forty minutes have passed. No food has arrived. Our sandwiches are evidently more complex than the menu would indicate. Our waitress has come by a number of times, not to update us re:our food, but to literally interrupt our conversation so we can talk about that various places she has lived. She is so nice and oblivious that we can't be upset. Also, it's freezing cold due to the band having propped open the door to bring in their equipment. Recall, Adam does not have a jacket. It is approximately 40° F. We swaddle ourselves in Bourbon & Cokes.

9:40pm - Adam begins to shake from the cold. We quickly order two more rounds of Bourbon & Cokes.

9:50pm - Food arrives. We are ravenous, and dig in. But wait, what's this? A few bites in, no one has said a word. Is the food...actually good? Like really, really good? Farm fresh produce? Piping hot, properly cooked fish? Yes. With lamb sandwiches for $10, this ain't 5-star dining, but against all the odds, the food is super fresh and rock-solid good. It's too bad it has to be served in such a bizarre, apathetic environment. The food is compelling enough to make me want to try Alluette's original location, but the experience is bad enough that I'll never go back to the jazz cafe. It is especially disappointing because I love live jazz and there is very little of it in Charleston.

10:15pm - The Oscar Rivers Trio, the house band, finally comes on. They can really play, but it's too late and we soon head home.

Alluette's Jazz Cafe
137 Calhoun St
Charleston, SC 29401

Chappy's on Church (Nashville)

2010-01-04T05:42:00.000-08:00

Located about forty miles outside New Orleans, Chappy's Seafood Restaurant had been a fixture of the Gulf Coast culinary scene for over twenty years. But when Hurricane Katrina hit in 2005, John "Chappy" Chapman lost both his restaurant and his home. Less than a year later, Chappy was resettled in the West End area of Nashville, TN and reopened his restaurant as Chappy's on Church - a high end restaurant specializing in traditional Creole and Cajun seafood dishes.

Maggie and I both went to Vanderbilt University, so we have a bond with Nashville and decided to spend New Year's Eve there, visiting a few old friends and enjoying the live music that pours out the door of nearly every restaurant and bar in the city. We picked Chappy's for our New Year's Eve dinner.

Ducking into Chappy's from an unseasonably cold Nashville night, the first thing we noticed was the size and scale of Chappy's main dining room. I have no trouble believing the web site's claim that they can seat 220 for dinner. It's a giant rectangle of a place with French Quarter-inspired lights dangling from the ceiling and red and green taffeta curtains draping the windows in front, and the booths in the back.

Open and boxy with a huge aisle flanked by tables running down the center, if it were empty there couldn't be a more depressing layout. The word "intimate" would just bounce around the place laughing like a poltergeist. But on this night, Chappy's was packed. I don't know what a normal dinner service looks like, but at capacity Chappy's ambiance is cheerful enough, even if it feels a bit impersonal and, as one of our dinner companions pointed out, looks a little bit like a Chinese food restaurant.

Our waitress came over sniffling and fanning herself with her notepad, obviously sick. A friend asked what types of gin were available, and after hemming and hawing confessed she had no idea. She had a similar amount of knowledge about the specialty martinis. How long had this woman been working at Chappy's? Twenty minutes? When your waitress is too incompetent to take a drink order, there is a problem. We requested a new server.

From then on, service was fine - a slightly too-friendly (slightly drunk?) waitress with decent knowledge of the menu flitted ably about.

Chappy's serves a nice crusty loaf of bread to the table with four house-made butters. There is a garlic butter, a sweet cream butter, a strawberry butter, and an alligator butter. Admittedly, this is sort of a gimmick - the alligator butter just tastes a little extra salty and leathery - but it's a gimmick I got really excited about.

I this point I started forgetting about the bizarre service experience for all the right reasons.

An appetizer of seared tuna in Cajun spices was beautifully cooked and presented, with a generous portion for the table to share. A dark spice rub was complex and savory, with the tongue-satisfying tingle of salt, without tasting the least bit salty. Fried green tomatoes were as light as can be, while still staying Southern and fried and homey. Finding small crawfish tails hidden in the accompanying Creole hollandaise was a pleasant surprise, like a hazelnut in chocolate cake.

Our entrées arrived: seared scallops with spices similar to those found on the tuna, cooked until just past translucent. For me, two braised quails on a bed of Cajun rice that reminded me of Paella. As small game birds tend to be, the quails were difficult to eat, but just as well. I eat quickly and eating tricky food is a good way to slow down. That said, the total service time at Chappy's was 90 minutes - I think that's right on that mark for a 3-course meal at a nice restaurant, especially when the place is packed.

All of us agreed that the food was top notch. It exceeded our expectations in almost every way, but I can't help feeling that the whole evening was teetering on the edge of disaster. Only because we were able to overlook and move past the terrible initial service did we come out unscathed. It would have only taken one more mistake to ruin the dinner, but instead the kitchen did its job and sent us off for our New Year's Eve parties full, warm, and happy.

Chappy's on Church

1721 Church Street

Nashville, TN 37203-2921

(615) 322-9932

Slacking Off/Great Links

2009-12-17T05:37:00.001-08:00

I'm not trying to slack off here, but between the holiday parties and visiting families, Maggie and I haven't had a free Thursday in some time. I have another review or two on tap, but in the mean time I'd like to share some food-related links I've enjoyed recently.

First up, here is an absolutely riveting documentary featuring Anthony Bourdain exploring the El Bulli restaurant near Barcelona. The restaurant, voted by Restaurant Magazine as the #1 restaurant in the world five times, is run by chef Ferran Ad ria, a pioneer in molecular gastronomy. There isn't much to the video below - Bourdain simply eats a meal at El Bulli and describes the dishes as they arrive. Yet this is seriously compelling. I'm nearly brought to tears by apple caviar.

Part 1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bg9h5S1VW3w
Part 2: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mS0rttp9EIE

While we're on molecular gastronomy, this gallery of plates from Alinea in Chicago is stunning. Similar to El Bulli, a meal at Alinea consists of dozens of small dishes, each served on a plate/bowl/etc designed by an architect for that particular course. Alinea is the creation of Grant Achatz, who was diagnosed with (of all things) mouth cancer in 2007. Imagine, the greatest chef in the United States got mouth cancer. The New Yorker wrote a fascinating profile of Achatz, focusing on his rise to gastronomic glory and his battle with cancer. I highly recommend reading it.

Finally, I ran across this instructional video from Gourmet Magazine (RIP) detailing the preparation of duck confit. It certainly looks doable at home, but also a bit involved for those of us with day jobs. Also, I don't know where I would get rendered duck fat. I suppose I could always render it myself. Regardless, it's a lot of fun to learn how this great dish is made.

Until next Thursday!

Pearlz (downtown)

2009-11-15T07:54:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-11T09:54:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-05T09:50:00.001-08:00

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.

The Mustard Seed (Mt Pleasant)

2009-10-26T12:36:00.000-07:00

I've heard raves about The Mustard Seed since I moved here two and half years ago. When I shared with friends that I had never been, I generally heard some variation of "YOU HAVEN'T BEEN TO THE MUSTARD SEED??!" Similar to the reaction I have every time Maggie tells me she's never seen the Lord of the Rings movies.

With visions of big portions, fresh ingredients, and fair prices dancing in our heads, we struck out over the Ravenel for an evening at the original Mt. Pleasant location (in the last few years two additional Mustard Seeds have germinated - one on James Island, and another in Summerville).

Fresh, well-seasoned foccacia, warm lighting, comfortable but practical tables and settings - an auspicious start. The menu arrived and, in retrospect, at this point I should have started to worry. Here are three items off the menu, in the order they appear:

- Chicken Enchiladas
- Pad Thai
- Turkey Meatloaf

Really. Normally a baffling grab-bag menu like this would be an immediate red flag (Seriously, re-read those three dishes. I can't get over it!), but TMS's reputation is such that I reacted with only the faintest flicker of neurons, absent-mindedly admiring the chef for his range.

After a middling corn chowder (easily dismissed as well), Maggie's pad-thai arrived along with my (safe-choice!) shrimp & scallop risotto. The pad thai had some kind of odd and overwhelming clam-sauce-meets-lemongrass flavor that knocked out any chance of balance in the dish. The shrimp were overcooked and the bulk of the dish came home in a doggy bag, to linger, uneaten, in the fridge for a few days.

The risotto was better, but not transporting. Sort of upper-middle-class. The scallops were cooked beautifully, to just-past translucent with a nice caramelization. The risotto itself though, was quite bland. To make Risotto you have to stand over a pot, stirring and adding ingredients constantly, for at least an hour. The entire time you're tasting and adding more stock, salt, mushrooms, wine, pepper, herbs, cheese, whatever. The constant attention and slow cook time means it's nearly impossible to make a bland risotto. I have no idea why there was no more flavor than some basic chicken stock. It was fine, but wouldn't have required a great deal more work to make it great.

I think there is something akin to momentum with regard to TMS. Check out this review for an example. How on earth does an undercooked dish and a baffled and rude waitress garner four stars? In fairness there are a huge number of resoundingly positive reviews, but I think in some cases the restaurant's reputation precedes it.

The disparity between what I've heard about The Mustard Seed and what I experienced there is so great that I can't help but think we may have caught it on an off night (I'm falling for its reputation too!). Maybe we'll go back soon and give it another shot. Or maybe not.

La Fourchette

2009-10-11T18:44:00.000-07:00

After getting a parking spot directly in front of La Fourchette at 8pm Friday (I have unbelievable luck parking), we had no trouble getting a table and a glass of champagne. (We had reservations, but the place was half empty. Why??) Settling in, I took a look at the menu: all French.

For me, French menus are dangerous. I've heard enough of the French language to have a good grasp on pronunciation, and know how a printed word should sound, but my mouth isn't as familiar as my ear so when I actually try to say anything, it sounds like someone stepped on a frog and I get weird/embarrassed looks from waitresses. As usual though, Maggie is there to bail me out by drilling me in advance and correcting my pronunciation. So, after barely mangling La Salade De Fromages Chauds and Le Steak Frites (Maggie ordered Salmon cooked in parchment paper, the French spelling of which I won't try to reproduce here), we were treated to one of our best meals yet.

"Intimate" is such a cop-out word to describe a restaurant, but in the case of La Fourchette try to take it seriously for a moment, rather than dismissing it as a cliché. The space was unexpectedly small, but ultimately right-sized. The interior, no doubt aided by the age of the old King St. building that contains it, has a tremendous amount of character for a three-year-old restaurant.

The skirt steak was deliciously crusted and presented with a lightly dressed stack of Bibb lettuce. On the menu, the side was described simply as Salade Verte, so the Bibb lettuce was a welcome surprise. The Frites are deep-friend in duck fat, and the warm cheese plate was properly portioned for two with enough variety to feel adventurous, while also pleasing everyone.

Service was fast, friendly, and French. I don't envy the job of the hiring manager - where in Charleston is there a ready supply of amiable, French-speaking women? Most seem to be working at La Fourchette.

It's too bad we have to wait 43 weeks to go back.

Thanks Digitel!

2009-10-08T05:08:00.000-07:00

Great mention of the blog over on The Digitel. Thanks! If you don't read The Digitel regularly, you're missing out. It's my go-to for information about Charleston. In addition to their own take on local machinations, they pull in content from the City Paper, The P&C, etc. So you're always up to date.

A new post is coming later. I know I'm overdue.

Boulevard Diner

2009-10-02T09:49:00.000-07:00

One of the most authentic diners I have ever been to. Between the view out the enormous front windows onto Coleman Boulevard, friendly waitresses, home cooked food, cheap white plastic plates, late closing time, unnecessarily large antique roadside sign, I feel confident predicting (I didn't have the appetite to test this) that they have wonderful pie.

In terms of food, eating at Boulevard Diner can only be compared to consuming a neutron star for dinner. Everything is slathered, sauced, fried, mashed, casseroled, or minced, with some dishes experiencing more than one of these processes.

Maggie and I ventured over the Ravenel to Boulevard's Mt. Pleasant location (there is also one in West Ashley) for a late bite before bed. It's not 1pm and still can't look at food.

The dense, doughy, spinach & potato pancakes came covered in a thick shrimp sauce and resembled golf balls more than pancakes. Though surprising in shape, a bit gluey and cold in the center, but they were somehow just what I expected.

Boulevard Diner keeps things simple. My "Cajun Meatloaf" turned out to be totally traditional-tasting meatloaf, but was also totally good-tasting. No fancy adjectives here. Just old-fashioned good. I asked our perky waitress why it was called "Cajun", and she confessed to be as baffled as me.

The staff did their best to sell us on the half-baked Tollhouse Pie and spiced Hummingbird Cake, but they must have known we'd turn it down based on the roughly two pounds of leftover green bean casserole and friend green tomatoes left on our plates.

The Noisy Oyster

2009-10-02T09:40:00.000-07:00

The Noisy Oyster on Market Street is right in the heart of Tourist town and delivers everything you would expect of a tourist trap restaurant - OK food, OK environment, expansive menu, and great people watching. The highlight was definitely the wide-open garage-door style windows that open up onto Market Street. The evening weather of Charleston in late September can't be beat. As one of Charleston's serious fault's is a lack of sidewalk-seating for restaurant's, I can recommend The Noisy Oyster based solely on this feature.

Why, you might ask, would we even bother going here? Look at it any way you like, but the Noisy Oyster is a staple of downtown Charleston and we had never been. It had to make the list, and we had to get it out of the way. It was also nice to get a bit of a break on the wallet.

The food was just fine, in the same way Chili's is. Our waiter was great, and Maggie and I bonded with him over our shared Northeastern roots (all three of us are from the Boston area). He generously gave us a $5-off coupon. Totally unnecessary, and very much appreciated.

I feel like I'm reviewing a restaurant everyone has been too, if not literally, then certainly figuratively. Local-sounding dishes that were likely frozen at some point, the decor overemphasizing local culture, and certainly no regulars. Really not bad, but really not good. If you're on Market Street and looking for a quick dinner though, you could do worse.

Oak Steakhouse

2009-09-23T04:44:00.000-07:00

A pair of good friends are moving next week, and invited Maggie and me out to dinner, conveniently on Thursday, for a goodbye. We initially settled on Hall's Chophouse, a relatively new steakhouse offering on upper King St, we switched to Oak because we had never eaten there.

(Hall's, incidentally, is great.)

I'm struggling to say something about Oak that wouldn't apply to any upscale, expensive, well-executed steakhouse. That's not an insult - the atmosphere was refined, but decidedly Southern. Oak feels like Charleston, while also feeling like a thousand other high-end restaurants.

Maggie's filet mignon was delicious (though that's not my favorite cut), with a really well-flavored crunchy crust. My osso buco was seasoned nicely, but the bed of thin polenta it sat in absorbed and obscured the marrow and juices until I felt like I was eating a lamb soup. The perfectly cooked shank deserverd more. Drinks were well made, if a little slow to arrive. Service was otherwise impeccable.

The side dishes do deserve a mention; a light and wonderfully sweet butternut squash puree was a great dish to usher in the Fall. I had heard rumors of a lobster macaroni and cheese that was rich enough to kill, but no one at our table had the guts to try it. Next time.

I also commend Oak for a having more variety on the menu than a typical steakhouse. Between the wide variety of salads, sides, seafoods, and appetizers, even a vegetarian would come away happy. That said, most food was nonetheless steakhouse-like in terms of richness. Think The Palm or Ruth's Chris, with a lot more Southern flair.

In the end, it's hard for me to get excited about spending that much on dinner for anything less than a perception-altering meal. I think steakhouses are just not where you should spend your money in Charleston when looking for a great dinner. Almost any other restaurant will be cheaper and more interesting. Oak is good at what it does, but I just don't care.

Gaulart & Maliclet (Fast & French)

2009-09-17T09:35:00.001-07:00

Teetering on the edge of the commercialized strip of Broad Street, threatening to fall into the residential darkness of the lower peninsula, the hole in the wall of Gaulart & Maliclet (better known as Fast & French) has been a staple of the business lunch crowd for 25 years. Like all the restaurants on here though, I had somehow never been.

The space was surprisingly small, rustic, and immediately enjoyable (despite the seizure-inducing color scheme of their web site).

Thursdays at F&F are Fondue night, an altogether pleasant surprise. Fondue is not common on the peninsula. Maggie and I started with some soups - her a gazpacho, and a lentil for me. Both were flavored wonderfully and cooked well. The gazpacho especially deserves mention, I think. I've found many gazpachos to be no more than the sum of their parts, and others to over-emphasize a particular seasoning like parsley. This avoided both traps; vegetables and herbs blended completely, and tasted like a coherent soup with proper balance. An auspicious start.

The cheese fondue arrived, accompanied by boring bread cubes, and vegetables that didn't seem happy to have been steamed. Along with it, decent looking cubed beef, and oil fondue.

The cheese and butter melted, but never mixed into a proper fondue, leaving an oily layer on top and a dense cheese pancake on the bottom. It was made more disappointing because the flavors were actually spot on. As for beef, it was just too tough. Conversation was replaced by mastication.

The soups were so good though, that we want to go back another night when the chef is a bit more involved. And we will go back. In 40 weeks, when we can repeat a restaurant.

The Fat Hen

2009-09-14T12:13:00.000-07:00

I had heard a lot of buzz about the Fat Hen, so I was really excited to kick off Dinner on Thursday with this restaurant. Maggie and I hopped in the car for a late dinner, plugged the address into the GPS...and discovered we were in for a solid 25 minute drive to John's Island. As residents of downtown Charleston though, the (relative) out-of-the-wayness of The Fat Hen turned out to be the best part of the experience.

Everything about the Fat Hen is in support of having a great meal. The experience of a great meal, not just the food of one. I felt like a local when I walked in (it's debatable whether I really was) - an experience totally foreign to someone who eats mostly downtown, among the crush of tourists and second-homers. At the Fat Hen were groups of friends, huddled around wood-slab tables, enjoying a last glass of wine before bed.

We were seated around 9:15, with last service at 10. After a drink, the wonderful tomato tart (which could have plausibly been served for dessert), not-too-salty just-right-crunchy duck confit, poached salmon, and a crème brûlée, the time had tocked past 10:30. The restaurant was closing, and most other diners had left. Our waitress approached the table, undoubtedly to give us the bill. But no, she wanted to know if we would like some coffee, or another drink. No one has ever been rushed out of the Fat Hen.

Dinner on Thursday

2009-09-11T08:47:00.000-07:00

Dinner on Thursday is simple - every Thursday, visit a new restaurant in Charleston, SC with my beautiful girlfriend Maggie. I'll write a quick review of the restaurant here and keep an up to date list of the places we want to eat, and the places we have already eaten. Any maybe, if it's notable, something about how the date went. I'm going to try and convince Maggie to write too - she's more interesting than me (and has a better palate!).

More about me later, but in brief, I've lived in Charleston for about two years and have visited what feels like a huge number of restaurants, but whenever I actually get to talking about where I've been I realize the huge number of places I still need to go to. Charleston is such a great city for eating out, with tremendous variety, reasonable prices, and interesting atmospheres. I'm really excited!

The restaurants we plan on visiting range in price and style, from diners to steakhouses. I'm keeping abbreviated notes in a Google Docs spreadsheet here.

Some really notable Charleston restaurants are missing from list, probably because I've already been. I might put together a more complete list so any readers out there can alert to places I haven't heard of.

Until next Thursday...