Off the Map: Fork?! What Are We Going To Do With a Fork?!

Caramel Apple -- Charleston Candy Kitchen, Charleston, SC
Charleston Candy Kitchen

Let's just completely spoil the ending and let you know that our experience at Charleston Candy Kitchen ends with the phrase, "I can't believe you bathed yourself in a fountain."

Nope, Not That One...

...THAT One

To be fair, few things would make Vodka's friend, Diet Coke, shower herself with pools of publicly available water, but the caramel apple which Alex Guarnaschelli took a liking to on the ON A STICK episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate is one of those things.

Gamechanger Apples

To backtrack a bit, it is nothing short of a miracle that we managed to get our grubby paws on this apple in the first place, as when we first arrived at Charleston Candy Kitchen, they were out of the plain caramel variety, and only had the chocolate and/or peanut flavors from which to choose.

Way to Annoy Vodka, #32: DON'T HAVE BEST THING I EVER ATE DISH IMMEDIATELY AVAILABLE

When Vodka inquires about this missing flavor to the girl behind the counter (who, let's just say, is a "character" and is not exactly into her job), she is told that a new batch of plain caramel apples is being whipped up as we speak and will be ready "soon."

In the Meantime, Apparently We Should Help Ourselves to Some Store-Brand Candy

And herein comes Vodka's first lesson about Southern timeframes.  To Vodka, "soon" means "within 3 minutes -- preferably less."

In Charleston Candy Kitchen, "soon" means "maybe possibly sort of finished in 3 hours."

We have a long night ahead of us.

The Fact That They're Missing An O Is The Smallest Problem With This Bulletin Board

Not being wise enough to question this "soon" demarcation at first, Vodka and Diet Coke wander around Charleston Candy Kitchen in search of souvenirs, only to discover that all of the treats stacked up against the walls were created at SAVANNAH Candy Kitchen.

What now?!

Where are we?!

Things That Make No Sense, Charleston Edition

Indeed, it seems as though the only items the Charleston Candy Kitchen staff whips up in house are the caramel apples, the pralines, and some sad-looking hunks of fudge.  Everything else is either a brand name or being packaged in Paula Deen's neck of the woods.

The whole place is, in essence, confusing.

Every Treat You Can Imagine... Shipped Across State Lines from Georgia

Still waiting for "soon" to arrive, we hover by the praline counter for entirely too long before we are finally granted the most miniscule free sample of praline ever -- ironic since there are signs plastering the joint advertising this giveaway.

If You're Going to Make Such a Big Deal of Your Free Pralines, HAND THEM OVER

The praline, from what we can taste of the crumb we are given, is pretty good, though it could stand for some more butter (and perhaps a side of caramel apple.  Hint hint).

Note: The "Sample" We Received Was About 1/16th Of This Size

We re-approach Ms. Personality behind the counter and ask again when the caramel apples will be ready.  She points to a giant vat of caramel behind the praline display and mumbles a vaguely incoherent explanation about them making the caramel now.

The Equivalent of Lucy Ricardo's Candy Kitchen

We are then assured the apples will be ready in "25-30 minutes."

So we leave.  And then we come back.  And guess what?

STILL NO APPLES.

We go back to our old friend and ask about the apples, and she now seems resigned to the fact that she is not going to get rid of us easily.  When she confirms that the apples are still not -- and seemingly not even close to -- being ready, Vodka (ever the queen of patience) says that she will take one of the peanut one behind the counter.

"As A Matter of Fact, Just Hand Us a Granny Smith and a Wrapped Caramel and We'll Make Do"

"Those are stale," Ms. Personality tells us.  "They been sitting there for days.  Come back later and new ones will be ready."

Knowing it will be fruitless to ask when "later" is, exactly, we go to dinner and return a full three hours later.

And the apples are -- believe it or not -- "ready."  The quotation marks are intentional.

Real Live Caramel Apples

You see, the apples are assembled on the tray right next to the vat of caramel, and they appear as though they were completed mere seconds before.  With no sign of Ms. Personality in sight, we ask the only visible worker for one apple to go.  He looks around the store blankly.

TURN AROUND, BUDDY

"They're behind you," we tell him.  Listen, we've been here three times in as many hours.  WE KNOW THE APPLE PROCESS.

We Almost Definitely Could Have Made Them Ourselves in Less Time

But instead of fetching one for us, he merely finds Ms. Personality, who removes one from the tray and packages it up in plastic wrap.  "You should put this in the refrigerator or freezer to let the caramel harden," she tells us, thus confirming our fears that the apples are only "ready" in the figurative sense.

Also, being that our hotel room is devoid of a mini-fridge, this hardening process should be "interesting."

We Are Nothing If Not Resourceful

Vodka asks Ms. Personality for a knife to help us make our way through the apple, and when she provides one, Vodka then asks for a fork.

Diet Coke glances back and forth between the gargantuan, sticky apple and Vodka's earnest expression before blurting out, "Fork?!  What are we going to do with a fork?!"

Touche, Diet Coke.

Come to Think of It, the Knife Is Pretty Useless, Too

We drag our two-pound apple back to our hotel, and after some creative "refrigeration," we take it outside to consume by the pool.  Upon trying to tear away the first layer of plastic wrap, Vodka can already tell she is going to hate this thing.  Because it is messy.  SO messy.  Just about the messiest thing one could ever eat.

And if it is not clear, WE HATE MESSY.

Scenic Caramel Apple Consumption Surroundings...

...Hideous Caramel Apple Itself

Vodka tries to saw through the sides of the apple, and failing that technique, we begin biting into the monster to the best of our ability. 

And the thing almost breaks our teeth.

We're Going to Charge Charleston Candy Kitchen for Our Dental Bills

With first impact, we have caramel on our fingers, tickling our chins, and escaping up our noses, and we are none too pleased.  The green apple inside the creation is crispy beyond belief -- indeed, if there were such a thing as a TOO crispy apple, this would be it, as it is nearly impossible to eat.  The caramel, which is still gooey from its creation, is almost flavorless, at least as far as caramel is concerned.

Question: If the Caramel Had Actually Hardened, How Would We EVER Have Bitten This Thing?!

It would be one thing if Charleston Candy Kitchen had created the most delicious caramel this side of the Mississippi (they did, after all, have THREE HOURS to do so), but this is not it.  To make matters worth, the apple itself is way too tart for the caramel topping, and instead of becoming a harmonious dichotomy, the whole thing is -- literally and figuratively -- a mess.

Another Knife Lost to the Process

Not being ones to eat caramel apples, well, ever, we try to keep plowing through in an effort to find its hidden charm.  But instead of better, things just keep getting worse, and by the end of our quest, we are cursing the entire process.  Vodka gathers the remnants up and goes inside to find a trash can (side note: Charleston as a whole is RIDICULOUSLY devoid of garbage receptacles), and when she returns, Diet Coke can be seen dipping a pool towel into the nearby fountain and rubbing it all over her face.

Are You Pleased With What You've Done To Us, Apple?!

"Desperate times," she says without affect, and we retreat to bed knowing the we have tasted both the best and the worst that Charleston has to offer today.

It's Time to Pull It Back Together, Charleston

And if Diet Coke returns from South Carolina with dysentery from her foray into the fountain, we will all know exactly which candy kitchen is to blame.

And it isn't Savannah's.

Charleston Candy Kitchen's Caramel Apple: 1 star

We Need to Start Frequenting Country Fairs

Corn Dog -- Shake Shack
Shake Shack

Shake Shack has become a bit of a New York institution, which is odd for a place that serves food one could pretty much find at McDonald's.  Don't get us wrong - Shake Shack is good and all, but is it good enough to counteract the excessively long lines, jam-packed space, and screaming children?

Let's just say that neither of us are frequenters of the place.

Cropped to Remove the Legions of Strollers Parked Outside

However, when our BFF Claire Robinson tells us to go eat something on Best Thing I Ever Ate, you can be sure that we will follow orders.  So we go to the Upper West Side Shake Shack in search of an elusive corn dog, which Claire spoke of on the ON A STICK episode.  Said corn dogs are only available over long summer weekends (Memorial Day, Independence Day, and Labor Day), which is clever marketing in terms of hype but seems somewhat unnecessary.  It is just a fried hot dog, after all.

Blessedly arriving at the place ten minutes before noon, we figure we are in the clear from the onslaught of the lunch crowd.  Wrong.  The place is teeming with other folks who apparently eat on a schedule akin to the Golden Girls.  Children and strollers block every turn, and we are becoming displeased and mildly claustrophobic.

Ginger lines up to order us a corn dog while Vodka goes on the prowl for condiments and a table.  By some miracle, a table opens up and Vodka, being without the hindrances of a stroller and/or anklebiters, nabs it.  Ginger returns with our Olive Garden-style shaker which will inform us when our corn dog is prepared, and we settle in for what we assume will be a five-minute wait.  We mean, how long could it possibly take to fry ONE hot dog?

THIRTY MINUTES is the answer.

Good Things Better Come in Small Packages

For once the one harassing the waitstaff, Ginger inquires throughout this half hour as to the fate of our corn dog, and she is finally informed that there is a "delay on corn dogs" because they "only have one station open for them."

Good job, Shake Shack.  Solid planning you did there. 

Ridiculous.

Finally, our buzzer lights up, and Ginger fetches our dog on a stick.  A wooden skewer emerges from a crispy doughy skin of enveloped hot dog.  Ginger bites in and almost burns her mouth off, so we subsequently drown the thing in mustard to cut down on the heat.

We Assume Corn Dog Pictures Never Win Photography Awards

To be fair, we are not really corn dog people.  As far as we can remember, neither of us has ever had one.  Not hailing from families that were prone to visiting country fairs as children, we have nothing to compare this corn dog to.  And frankly, we kind of don't care.

The hot dog itself is delicious - plump and juicy.  The dough around it is crispy on the outside and cakey on the inside, which we assume is a good thing.  This wrapping is mildly sweet, like corn bread, and we're not sure how we feel about the combination of it and the savory hot dog.  Plus, we are generally paranoid about poking our eyes out and/or stabbing the roofs of our mouths, so we don't really like eating off of wooden spears.

The Inner Workings of a Corn Dog

Perhaps if we had eaten a great number of corn dogs in our youth, we would revel over this "upscale" version of the delicacy.  But as it stands, we'd much rather our hot dog be served in a bun.

And in less than thirty minutes.

Shake Shack's Corn Dog: 3 stars

Dollar Menu Corn on a Stick

Grilled Corn on a Stick – Café Habana
Cafe Habana

By this point in the day, after knoblewurst, salmon, a doughnut, dumplings, a martini, a margarita/mojito, hand-pulled noodles, and Italian pastries, we are growing weak from caloric intake.  However, we are easily persuaded by neighborhood convenience, and so we pioneer on to Soho.

If we were playing Oregon Trail, this is the point where we would have been fording the river after losing two oxen and a child to dysentery.

In Soho, we head to Café Habana for Tyler Florence’s number one ON A STICK food: grilled corn Mexican style.  Confused at first by the seemingly multiplying Café Habanas, we eventually realize that we are supposed to enter the to-go stand on Elizabeth Street and not the actual restaurant (we’re a little slow on the uptake).  The corn is a whopping $2, and as we each shell out a buck, we understand that we have reached the Dollar Menu portion of our tour.

Golden Arches-Priced Corn

Now, we know that we complain a lot about waiting.  We are not the lackadaisical types.  And at Café Habana, we are left waiting on our window stools for no less than 25 minutes for our stick of corn.  This wait seems a bit excessive relative to the quantity of corn ordered.  And the addition of our food coma and booze residuals does not help us pass the time.

Eventually, our order is ready.  We escort a gleaming stick of bright yellow corn to our place at the counter.  One side is slightly browned from the grill.  The other side is covered in goop.

Mystery Goop

In another repetitive theme, the corn is ridiculously hot. 

The goop is comprised of – well, we don’t really know.  But it’s great goop.  There is cheese and paprika – that much we recognize.  The rest remains a mystery.  We squirt the provided lime slice onto the goop, which gives a solid dose of tang to the proceedings.  And despite the fact that we can barely bite into the corn based on the temperature (and the lovely tendency of the kernels to stick in our teeth), we like it.  It’s interesting.  It’s not something we’ve tasted before.  It is more than worth the $2.

But it is not worth the 25 minute wait.

Café Habana’s Grilled Corn on a Stick: 3 stars