Off the Map: We'll Go Anywhere for a Hot Dog

Cosmic Dog -- Jack's Cosmic Dogs, Mt. Pleasant, SC
Jack's Cosmic Dogs

For the record, if one is ever attempting to get to Jack's Cosmic Dogs in Mt. Pleasant, SC, do NOT listen to Google OR Apple Maps.  They will both ask you to turn down a dirt road that is PAST the entrance of Jack's.

Thanks for the Help, Technology

Thankfully, Vodka is a big fan of Google Street View, so she had scoped out the area enough to know that Jack's driveway is NOT off of a dirt road, and she and Diet Coke reached the place without incident.

Well, If "Without Incident" Can Be Defined as "Cursing All Map Programs"

When inside, Diet Coke, still full from our jaunt to Orangeburg, is only in the mood for a chocolate milkshake, while Vodka orders Alton Brown's Best Thing I Ever Ate HOMETOWN FAVORITE choice of the cosmic dog.

So Many Hot Dogs, So Little Stomach Space

Now, Vodka is hesitant about this choice for a few reasons:

1. Alton, chocolate pudding aside, tends to have what one would call "weird" tastes.

2. The cosmic dog comes with "blue chz slaw" (note: who trusts restauranz that uze Z's in their dezcriptionz?) and sweet potato mustard (and sweet potatoes are just about the only food in the world that Vodka DESPISES).

And -- Sidenote -- Who's in Charge of the Decor Around Here?!

Nevertheless, Best Thing I Ever Ate rules always apply, and she forfeits the more logical menu choice of "hot dog on a bun" in favor of Alton's pick.

Such a Martyr

We sit at a high top table and await our order, which takes all of 60 seconds to produce (and costs about $5 -- that's a pricing plan we can live with).  Diet Coke is claiming a certain "allergy" to the nitrates found in hot dogs (ironically, she has no such reaction to the same nitrates found in red wine), and she sips contentedly on her milkshake (which tastes like it was made with actual milk and ice cream instead of chemicals -- good job, Jack).

A Step Above McDonald's, But Just a Step

(We Mean That As a Compliment - McDonald's Milkshakes Are Godly Creatures)

Vodka, meanwhile, contemplates how to consume this dog, as it is almost as unwieldy in size as the caramel apple.

Does This Thing Come with Instructions?

The roll, which is soft and nimble, is about three times the size of the hot dog, and the whole thing is smothered in a gargantuan portion of the blue "chz" slaw.  Diving in, Vodka is shocked for a few reasons:

1. She doesn't hate it.
2. The sweet potato mustard is actually tasty.
3. She has yet to come across the actual hot dog.

Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are

Moving further into the creation, she finds herself unexpectedly enjoying it.  The hot dog itself is juicy (if impossible to see), the blue cheese (we've had enough of the Z business) is crunchy and flavorful, with healthy dollops of blue cheese throughout, and the roll and mustard pull the whole thing together.

Jack's Side of Pickles, Though, Could Stand for Some Improvement

Overall, this cosmic dog is ten times better than such an odd combination of ingredients has any right to be, with one small caveat:

The hot dog itself is virtually non-existent.

Holy Lot Of Bread, Batman

Indeed, similar to our complaints about Weiner's Circle hot dogs in Chicago, the meat itself at Jack's Cosmic Dogs is almost beside the point.  In this case, unlike in Chicago, it's kind of okay, because the concoction is still delicious, but still -- would it kill them to beef up the dogs a little?

One Last Question -- Does Oscar the Grouch Live in Their Trash Cans?

With this 4 star conclusion, we climb into our rental car and head back to the city for our final night in Charleston.  And we pray that we do not end up on any dirt roads along the way.

Country Roads, Take Us Home

Jack's Cosmic Dogs's Cosmic Dog: 4 stars

Off the Map: You Really Need to Get Out More

Hash -- Dukes Bar-B-Que, Orangeburg, SC
Dukes Bar-B-Que

On Vodka and Diet Coke's second day in Charleston, they decide to do some venturing to new and faraway lands -- first to the Charleston Tea Plantation in order to drink their weight in tea....

So What You're Saying Is, You DON'T Have Any Vodka to Spike This Tea With?!

What Kind of Plantation Is This?!

...with said tea followed directly by a journey to Orangeburg, SC for some hash at Dukes Bar-B-Que, as recommended by Sunny Anderson on the HOMETOWN FAVORITES episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate.

Toto, I Don't Think We're In Charleston Anymore

The potential problems with this plan?

1. Orangeburg is an hour and a half away.

2. We have no idea what hash is.

Plowing onwards, we blast a strange combination of showtunes and Kanye West in our rental car until we reach the exit for Orangeburg, where we end up driving on -- wait for it -- FIVE CHOP ROAD.  On our way to get bar-b-que.

Only in South Carolina, folks.  Only in South Carolina.

Oh Yeah, Your Car DEFINITELY Looks Cooler Now. Solid Work

After a short "scenic" tour around Orangeburg ("There's a 'no parking' sign on that grass"), we arrive at the dirt sidelines that serve as the Dukes parking lot.

Luckily, the Army Is Here to Protect Us

We take our first tentative steps into the place, feeling decidedly out of our element, until we arrive inside.  Where it is dead quiet.

::crickets:: ::crickets::

PACKED, but completely silent.  Eerily silent.  Reverently silent.  Instead of boisterous conversations over plates of all-you-can-eat bar-b-que goodness, the dining room patrons are all huddled over their respective plates, eating quietly.  Le Bernardin couldn't get their customers to be this respectful of their food.

This must be some darn good hash.

The Le Bec Fin of South Carolina

We approach the main counter and hand over $9 each for our share of the goods.  Before us stands some recognizable items -- fried chicken and macaroni and cheese and green beans -- and some decidedly less recognizable items -- namely, the HASH.

Yes, Hi, We're From Up North. Please Help Us

Indeed, after Vodka picks up her styrofoam plate, she looks at the food spread out in front of her and purposely skips over the first container of brown, chili-looking mush.

"What is that?" Diet Coke asks.

"I don't know," Vodka answers.  "It's not hash."

We're sure you can guess where this story is going.

Spoiler: This Is Hash

Piling on a helping of stripped-down meat that Vodka is convinced is the hash, we overhear a conversation in line behind us concerning the gooey brown stuff.

In truth, we overhear a conversation about THE HASH.  And guess what?  It is NOT the item that Vodka is scooping onto her plate with wild abandon.

NOT HASH YOU FOOL

Backtracking through the (thankfully now empty) line, we each place some sticky white rice on our plates and then top it with the ever-confusing hash substance.  Still not trusting her instincts, when Vodka reaches the end of the line, she points to her plate and asks one of the (very patient) workers, "Is this the hash?"  Assured that it is, we take our seats at one of the long tables and folding chairs assembled throughout the room.

They're Very Into Styrofoam in Orangeburg

Pouring ourselves a healthy portion of the sweet tea that Dukes keeps stocked on each table, we raise our plastic forks and prepare for our first foray into hashland.

Hash Stash

And you know what?  The stuff is delectable.  We don't know what the heck it is, but it's fantastic.

Relatively fine in texture, the hash somehow manages to hold itself together over the rice.  The taste is tangy like a beautiful combination of ketchup and bar-b-que sauce (clearly, Diet Coke takes exception to her no-condiments rule when they're combined in an unrecognizable substance), and we believe we can discern bits of meat, onion, and possibly potato.  Whatever is in this concoction, however, is unimportant -- we like it.  We like it much, much more than we thought we would.

Time to Go Back For Seconds... and Thirds... and Fourths...

The rest of Dukes's food is equally satisfying.  The fried chicken (our third of the trip -- it will be a miracle if we can fit on the plane home) is traditional and yummy, and the mac and cheese stupendous.

And Our First Taste Ever of Sweet Tea is Equally Satisfying

Plateful of Plenty

The only thing on her plate that Vodka is not crazy about is the pulled pork, but primarily because of the level of confusion it caused earlier.

"I thought this was hash, by the way," she tells Diet Coke, pointing to the overflowing portion of pulled pork.

"You really need to get out more," Diet Coke retorts, and we dissolve into laughter that is ten times louder than anything else going on in this room.

Already full from our one plate of goodness ("They really made a profit off of us"), we deposit our trash and prepare to leave, but not before Vodka returns to the main counter to photograph the food trays.

What? Everyone Doesn't Take Pictures of the Hushpuppies?

When she is given a slightly quizzical look by the same woman she had questioned about the hash, Vodka tells her, "I don't get out much" by way of explanation.

"IS THIS TRUE?!" --Vodka, the Gullible Southern Tourist

This comment, like everything else in this establishment, is met with silence.  Clearly in the South Carolina lowcountry, nobody talks about the hash -- they just enjoy it by the styrofoam plate-full. 

As, we suppose, life should be.

Dukes Bar-B-Que's Hash: 4 stars

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