Off the Map: Gettin' Our South On, Ya'll

Pimento Cheese with Flatbread -- Magnolias, Charleston, SC
Magnolias

By this point in Vodka's trip to Charleston, she is sure that Ginger is going to be devastated for missing out.  Why?

She has stumbled into a place called "The Gin Joint."

Eat Your Heart Out, Ginger

In an effort to get appropriately liquored up for their foray into some "authentic" Southern dining, Vodka and Diet Coke wile away their time with some top-shelf gin, leaving just enough time to wander the nine seconds Google Maps says it will take us to walk across the street to Magnolias.

In actuality, the trip takes twelve seconds.  Get it together, Google.

With This Kind of Shoddy Information, Who Can We Trust Anymore?!

We are escorted to our table and approached instantly by our waiter, whose first order of business is to encourage us to choose our cocktails.

Waiter, I Think This Is the Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship

"He's your kind of waiter," Diet Coke whispers, and we settle on a glass of red wine (Diet Coke) and some lavender gin drink that arrives looking entirely too much like a virgin cocktail (Vodka).

Um, Is This Gin or a Club Soda?

The first taste of it confirms our Shirley Temple fears, but Vodka, ever the martyr, plows through on consuming it anyway.

You're Welcome,America

In the meantime, we go about ordering our meal -- shellfish over grits for Vodka, buttermilk fried chicken for Diet Coke, and the housemade pimento cheese with Charleston flatbread as our appetizer.  Said cheese dish had been recommended by Tyler Florence on the REGIONAL FAVORITES episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate, and we are optimistic about it primarily because it contains the word "cheese."

Bonus Points Would Have Been Given Had It Also Included the Words "Bread" and "Salt"

As we wait for our proliferation of food plates, Vodka asks our waiter where the bathroom is.  "It's really far," he answers, before walking her eight feet to the ladies room.  "Sarcasm does not go well with the South," Vodka mumbles upon returning to the table, but she is temporarily appeased when she sees the beloved bread basket has already appeared.

Saved By the Bread

Even if this waiter doesn't know good snarkiness, at least he understands the importance of a prompt carb delivery.

"Why Are There So Many Knives?" "Must Be Southern Thing." "They're Exactly the Same!"

The sourdough bread is warm out of the oven and comes with a homemade chive butter ("What kind of butter is that?  Not that I care...," Diet Coke, hater of condiments, asks).

Butter of the Gods

The bread is fairly stupendous -- crunchy on the outside and chewy on the inside, and the butter is nothing less than ideal.  We are thus in the perfect mood to award Tyler Florence's cheese a solid 5 stars.

Until, that is, we actually take a bite.

Here's a Hint: Things Are About to Go Downhill

Now, perhaps the warmth of the bread has spoiled us into assuming that all of Magnolias dishes arrive hot out of the kitchen, but while spreading the pimento cheese spread onto the flatbread triangles, we make a cruel discovery:

The cheese is cold.

And Also Hidden Amongst a Thousand Triangles, But Mostly COLD

Being that we are not connoisseurs of pimento cheese, it is probably our fault for assuming the stuff would be warm, but still.  We are at once disappointed, and the first tastes of this appetizer does little to downplay this emotion.

PS This Presentation Is a Mess

It's not that the pimento cheese is bad -- it is just not very... cheesy.  It seems to be some kind of descendent of the olive tapanade, and it is jam-packed with bits of vegetables (particularly, it seems, red peppers, as that flavor is by far the most abundant).

Anyone Have Any Spare Velveeta?

In fact, this dish seems to be a misnomer all around, as the "cheese" tastes more like a "veggie spread," and the "flatbread" would more accurately be called "wontons."  We wish that the cheese flavor were stronger -- like a feta or a goat cheese -- and we prefer the spread on the delicious sourdough over these mediocre "flatbreads."

The Wontons Are Waving the White Flag of Surrender

All in all, this pimento cheese is not remotely offensive -- it is just so far from what we were expecting that we're having trouble recovering.

First the Gin and Now the Cheese? Come ON, Magnolias

Moving onto our entrees, Magnolias proves that their appetizer section is the weakest part of their menu (well -- that and the cocktails), as the shellfish (shrimp, scallops, and lobster) and grits is one of the best things we have tasted in Charleston thus far.

Creamy Sauce = Instant Improvement Over Everything

Bathing in a lobster butter sauce, the grits are thick and slightly lumpy (which Vodka finds the ideal texture), and the fish is all prepared to perfection.

Cream of Wheat, Southern-Style

This dish is the clear stand-out of Magnolias choices, as the buttermilk fried chicken, while certainly good, is of the standard, classic variety, and the potatoes, collard greens, and biscuit that accompany it are nothing out of this world

That's Some Impressively Sized Chicken You've Got There

Apparently, We Should Have Just Called This Trip the "Fried Chicken and Grits Tour"

If we have any complaints about our entrees, it is that they are so rich that we linger over them for well over a half hour, consuming them one bite at a time (in fairness, our long-suffering waiter makes no judgments about this practice).

Three Hours Later, We're Still Plowing Through

By the time we retreat out of Magnolias, we are satisfied that we have tasted some authentic, if upscale, Southern cuisine, and we are beginning to feel as though we have conquered Charleston.

If only they would learn to microwave their cheese.

Magnolias's Pimento Cheese with Flatbread: 3 stars

Off the Map: We Don't Usually Look This Way

Smoky Bacon Cornbread -- Husk, Charleston, SC
Husk

To summarize, Charleston initially charmed us with bowls of chocolate pudding, gravy-smothered biscuits, and pleasant personalities.

And then, the place almost killed us.

How Far the Mighty South Has Fallen

Vodka and her friend, Diet Coke, chose to take a bus tour of downtown Charleston, which was to be followed directly by a boat ride to and from Fort Sumter.

We Prefer Forts of the Pillow Variety

The whole thing should have taken four hours, leaving us plenty of time to make our 2:15pm reservation at Husk.  Clearly, though, we have not yet become accustomed to "southern time," as at 2:10pm, we are still on the boat.

Can Anyone Throw Us a Life Raft?

Vodka calls Husk and asks the hostess if it will be okay if we arrive late.  "We stop seating at 2:30pm," she answers (in a tone, we might add, that is much more NEW YORK than SOUTH CAROLINA.  In other words, she is hostile).

"So as long as we arrive by 2:30, we're okay?" Vodka confirms. 

"At the very latest," Miss Congeniality says.

Translation: Start Swimming

At this point, we have two options: we can forfeit Johnny Iuzzini's Best Thing I Ever Ate SMOKY dish and hope to return to Husk later (thus completely screwing up our down-to-the minute) itinerary, or we can try to cross 1.3 miles of Charleston in 18 minutes or less.

Naturally, we opt for the latter option.

An Overeater Has To Do What An Overeater Has To Do

Now, this choice would not have been so precarious had storm clouds not been lingering in the Charleston skies all day, adding a decidedly swampy atmosphere to the proceedings.  With our carefully honed power-walking abilities, we manage to make it within 3 blocks of Husk by 2:27pm.  By this point, our hair, skin, and ensembles have been thoroughly disheveled by the humidity, so we decide to go for broke.

We run.

As a general rule, Vodka does not run.  Not ever.  To say it does not become her would be the understatement of the century.  But despite this lack of skill, she and Diet Coke stumble through the front door of Husk at EXACTLY 2:30pm.

And it goes without saying that we are a hot mess.

Never Been So Happy to See a Restaurant Sign In Our Lives

We gasp our request for a table to Miss Congeniality (who remains on the phone for the first 90 seconds of our huffing and puffing, building up paranoia that she will turn us away because she is not watching the clock).  She seats us in the middle of the dining room, and we struggle to maintain composure while our water glasses sit empty upon our table.

Too Bad We Can't Drink Antlers

Thankfully, our waitress is ten-times more affable than Miss Congeniality, and she refrains from judging our scarecrow hair and bright red faces as she fetches us glass after glass of water.  "We don't normally look this way," Diet Coke sputters out, but by this point, we are too far-gone to really care.

Just Bring On the Stupid Cornbread and We'll Get Out of Your Hair

Getting down to business, we order the skillet of "real" (as opposed to fake?!) cornbread with Benton's smoky bacon, along with wood fired chicken wings with Husk BBQ dry rub (Diet Coke) and a fried catfish BLT (Vodka).  Additionally, finding no suitable gin cocktails on the menu, our waitress suggests that she have the bartender make Vodka a stiff one of his own choosing.  (Needless to say, said waitress soon becomes Vodka's favorite person ever).

It Is OBVIOUSLY Gin O'Clock

The cornbread arrives first -- a flat cylinder of dough within a hot black skillet.  With the skill of a plastic surgeon (apparently cardiac activity has a positive effect on her coordination), Vodka carves the bread into eight equal pieces, and we take a bite.

And it is, well... it's certainly smoky.

Vodka Should Own a Pie-Cutting Shop

The gist of this cornbread's problem is that we should stop eating all dishes from the SMOKY episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate.  We don't like smoke!  We don't enjoy smoky flavors!  WHY ARE WE DOING THIS TO OURSELVES?!

Simple Answer: We're On a Mission and/or We Never Learn

Besides being entirely too smoky (which, in Husk's defense, is kind of the point), this cornbread is on the dry side, even for cornbread, and it tastes like it's been sitting out for a while and was merely reheated.  Crispy on the outside from the oven, the insides tend to fall apart, and the flakes of sea salt that are visible on top end up being its only saving grace.

And Have You Ever Known Us to Turn Down a Bread Product?!

We are unimpressed to begin with, and when our best friend, the waitress, arrives seconds later with a basket of complimentary rolls and butter, the cornbread becomes even less appealing.  After all, who would ORDER BREAD when you GET BREAD FOR FREE?

Husk, You Are Just Being Silly

Plus, the rolls are much tastier than the cornbread -- salty and dense like a perfect brioche.  The pork fat butter that comes with it is decidedly less appetizing (especially to Diet Coke, who despises condiments in all forms), but these rolls have it all over the cornbread.

For the Record, That Slice Is All Of Said Cornbread That We Consume. Poor Showing, Husk

Vodka's specialty gin cocktail is minty like a mojito and a tad too sweet for something that Vodka specified "not be sweet," but overall, it is fine (after all, it has gin in it.  How bad could it be?).  It gets bonus points for the giant ice cube inside, which seems to be Husk's specialty, and said ice cube should, in fairness, be on Best Thing I Ever Ate ahead of the mediocre cornbread.

Honey I Shrunk The Kids-Sized Ice

Diet Coke's chicken wings are equally unimpressive -- tasting of red pepper and honey, the chicken itself seems undercooked, and the rub makes for an odd combination. 

The Original Wing Dings

The Bowl Is More Appealing Than the Chicken

In truth, Vodka's fried catfish BLT is the only thing saving Husk from us writing it off completely.  The roll is moldable and fresh, and catfish perfectly crispy, and the spicy mayo plentiful.  Indeed, if this were the dish featured on the show, it would have received 5 stars.

Strange Picture Proportions = BLT Looks Like a Slider

Mayo Makes Everything Better

Yet Another Specialty Condiment Which Diet Coke Won't Taste

Unfortunately for Husk, they're saddled with their smoky cornbread.  And that bread is just not worth our marathon run across the streets of Charleston.

How the South Was Not Won

Actually, not much would be worth our running in stifling humidity.  But a bevy of free cocktails just might get the job done.

Husk's Smoky Bacon Cornbread: 2 stars

Off the Map: This Ain't Bill Cosby's Pudding Snacks

Chocolate Pudding -- Hominy Grill, Charleston, SC

Hominy Grill

The good thing about falling squarely on the side of "not quite sane" is that we have managed to procure friends with specific interests almost as bizarre as ours.  It is for this reason that Vodka finds herself weekending in Charleston, SC, with her friend, Diet Coke.  

No Comment on the Lack of Booze in Diet Coke's Moniker

You see, Diet Coke is on a lifetime mission to visit every state in the union and thus wants to make South Carolina #32 on her list.  Vodka merely wants to eat everywhere, so it is a solid match.

Traveling the Country, Nerd-Style

Our first destination (after both Vodka and Diet Coke get upgraded to first class on their flight, and thus became insufferable human beings) is Hominy Grill, home to Alton Brown's favorite chocolate pudding from the CHOCOLATE episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate.  

This Sign Should More Accurately Read "Breakfast Lunch Dinner PUDDING"

Truth be told, we are hesitant to begin our trip with a selection of Mr. Brown's, as his Best Thing I Ever Ate choices thus far have fallen anywhere on the spectrum from "interesting" to "downright bizarre."  However, the chipper attitudes of Hominy Grill's staff soon puts us at ease, and Diet Coke remarks, "You leave the mid-Atlantic and realize that people are happy." 

Presumably because they eat pudding for breakfast.

And Drink Out of Coffee Mugs the Size of Their Heads

In an effort to not be placed on a diabetic watch list for ordering pudding at 8am, we deign to choose the country breakfast (Diet Coke) and the big nasty biscuit (Vodka) for our entrees.

Followed immediately -- if not sooner -- by said chocolate pudding.

Always Begin Your Day with a Big Cup of Dessert

Set up in the manner of a country dining room (thankfully with individual tables -- we don't commune well), Hominy Grill is bright and homey and decidedly warm (as in temperament -- not temperature.  If it were hot inside, this review would be scathing).  

You Know You're In the South When...

...the Flowers Come In Mason Jars

It therefore comes as no surprise that their food is equally satisfying.  The big nasty biscuit (which, to be honest, Vodka ordered because it had the word "nasty" in it, and she loves a villain) consists of a piece of fried chicken sandwiched between a thick, hearty biscuit, all covered by a healthy portion of sausage gravy.  

So In Other Words, Low-Fat

This dish is almost astoundingly good -- the chicken juicy and just crispy enough, the biscuit doughy and thick, and the gravy one hundred-times better than any breakfast sauce should be.  

A Heavenly Heart Attack on a Plate

The Leaning Tower of Deliciousness

Diet Coke is similarly satisfied by her eggs, grits and toast, even if they do make for the whitest platter of food this side of the Mason Dixon line.

White-Washed

For Once in Her Life, Vodka Thinks They Could Have Sprung for Some Parsley

And then, of course, there is the matter of the chocolate pudding.

Cue Choir of Angels

Now, Vodka loves a pudding, but she is strictly a vanilla type of girl, so she's not sure how well this choice is going to pan out.  In contrast, Diet Coke is insistent that she hasn't tasted pudding since her elementary school Jello-cup days, so when she watches Vodka take the first bite and sees her face glaze over into a show of ecstasy, she leaps for her own spoon faster than she ever has before.

And within seconds, both of us are completely won over.

Yes, We'll Take a Dozen of These To Go, Thanks

This pudding manages to be both thicker and smoother than any we have ever tasted -- almost the consistency of cake batter rather than the soupier pudding varieties.  

The Visual Representation of the Word "Yum"

It has the decided taste of melted milk chocolate, and it is just sweet enough to not be overpowering.  The huge dollop of whipped cream on top is much less sugary than the pudding itself, which manages to cut into the flavor and make the whole thing less overwhelming.

The pudding is downright stupendous.

A Literal Spoonful of Sugar

It is so good, in fact, that we polish off the whole bowl despite the just-after-sunrise hour, and we continue to speak of returning to Hominy Grill to fetch some more pudding for the remainder of our trip.  

And Alton Brown - We Apologize for Ever Doubting You

Indeed, if this is the quality of food we'll be eating in Charleston, the rest of the country better start adjusting its taste buds.

The South Does Pudding Right

In the meantime, we'll be alerting Bill Cosby that we have a new endorsement idea for him.

Hominy Grill's Chocolate Pudding: 5 stars*

*Certifiable Best Thing We Ever Ate