Joel had to turn off my alarm several times, as I was completely unconscious in the morning. But motivated for breakfast at Hominy Grill, I got my act together and drove us towards our next culinary stop. We arrived at 9:03 AM, three minutes after opening. The place was packed and we had to wait. We killed the time by debating what was the difference between y'all and all y'all.
Hominy Grill **** - A small, quaint establishment but clearly very popular. Many locals and many tourists. I was eager to get in there. Both Adam Richman and Anthony Bourdain have been here to have The Big Nasty: a large chicken biscuit lathered in cheese and sausage gravy. This was my goal. If I had to narrow this Charleston trip to one goal, this was it. But I had other goals too. The she crab I found much better and meatier than at Hyman's. (This was the third soup I had in Charleston and was happy to continue the trend.) The double-cut bacon was doubly delicious. The sausage was good. The service was prompt. The atmosphere reminded me very much of The Loveless Cafe in Nashville (my favorite breakfast place in the U.S.); it felt like you were having a Sunday breakfast at someone's home and you felt welcome and warm there. Then came The Big Nasty. It's big. It's nasty. I lifted up the chicken biscuit, and on the plate was silhouette of the biscuit in a puddle of gravy. The biscuit never touched the plate again. Oh. My. Goodness. If this sandwich is renamed, it needs to have a religious adjective like "holy" or "immaculate." I don't know even remember what everyone else got. I was happy. And so were the other five.
Nothing could contrast The Big Nasty more than a return trip to the Battery and south of Broad. Walter showed us around and it was picture perfect out (for winter): pushing sixty degrees Fahrenheit on the water. Alison took us for a quick stop for lunch and benne wafers. Benne is gullah for sesame seeds. Benne wafers are these quarter-sized pastry chips of heavenly, buttery, and sweet goodness. I haven't even left Charleston and I already miss them.
Normally, I'd say a boat ride in the January would be a bad idea. But the next stop was Fort Sumter and it was well worth it. I enjoyed learning the history and seeing it in person. Plus, the views of the Charleston skyline (and the bridge which dwarfs it) amidst a blue sky was beautiful. Sure, it was cold and my lips were chapped. A small price to pay. Though I will say Christy was so cold that, in Alison's words from her blog, she changed into a Union soldier (she bought a Union hat). Alison let me borrow her digital camera and I split off and went camera happy at the fort.
On the boat ride back, we divided responsibilities: Alison and I brainstormed restaurants, Christy looked assessed the menus, I tried to see if reservations were available, and Joel napped. When we landed, we hopped back in the car. We ate more benne wafers. I dropped Alison off. I dropped Joel & Christy off. I checked into my ridiculous hotel (more on that later). I met Joel & Alison at their hotel. We walked to dinner.
Cypress **** - Yes, I'm realizing the number of **** I'm giving to these Charleston places, but we shot for the best and certainly the investment yielded impressive returns. It was an old building with a modern interior, an impressive wine wall, and a great balcony overlooking a glass-roofed kitchen. When we arrived, I couldn't tell if Joel was uninterested, tired, or both. That radically changed as dinner progressed. Another wonderfully pleasant and informed waitress. The waitress had me sold on the potato & leek soup and typically I've always disliked potato-based soups: this one was spot on in every aspect. Christy and Joel ordered the charcuterie and house cured meat: all fantastic, though the three beast stood out. Though we were all tired and not quite hungry, each bite did seem to bring more and more excitement. The red peas were delicious. I went with the lamb duo: the preparation with collard greens melted away. The fried chicken was darn good fried chicken. Joel was not even hungry; he happily devoured the wasabi tuna. The portions were much larger than anticipated (in the most pleasantly good way), leaving little room for dinner. But the small amount of lemon cheesecake I could fit in my system simply told my brain, You should just go to bed now. Now I don't have the refined tastes of Joel & Christy. Joel rarely uses the word "impressive" and he used it. Christy bought a cookbook; she's a chef.
We dropped by Tommy Condon's Irish Pub to see Walter play. Though half unconscious and half dead, I ordered an alcoholic beverage to defeat the last remnants of consciousness. I drew two conclusions from the Irish pub: the mandolin is a sweet instrument and Walter played the shit out of it.
I made it back to my hotel. I watched Transformers. I fell asleep.
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