Charleston

I don’t belong in Charleston. I never will, yet somehow, I felt right at home. I had no expectations of Charleston. I just walked as far as my tired feet would take me: down Meeting Street, back up East Bay Street, crossing through alleyways back onto Church Street, and the long march down King Street. I let Charleston take me where it wanted to, and along the way I met some wonderful people, ate incredible food, sipped champagne in fancy hotels I was clearly not dressed to be in, and walked back in time.

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A walk down Meeting Street takes you past some of the oldest and most luxurious homes in Charleston. These “single” houses have been beautifully kept and restored with a commitment to preserving the history and charm of Charleston. This is the part of town locals refer to as “Slightly North of Broad” as in Broad Street. It’s a coveted place to be even though you would forever be referred to as a SNOB -Slightly North of Broad. It ends on East Bay Street which takes you back in the opposite direction. Walking straight up East Bay Street takes you past the famous Rainbow Row -houses that reflect their Caribbean influence.

Every street in Charleston has a story to tell. East Bay Street has many stories, including the bombing of Fort Sumter, April 12-13, 1861. You can see Fort Sumter from East Bay Street, so when the bombardment of Union Forces began, so did the party. The wealthy people of Charleston gathered to watch the “fireworks” and celebrate their rebellion and secession from the United States of America, an effort they believed would only last a few weeks or months at best. It’s easy to judge their naiveté, but who could have predicted that party was ushering in the bloodiest war in American history?

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If you just walk up and down the main streets, you will miss much of Charleston’s charm. Hidden down alleys and side streets are smaller homes, gardens, and enchanting courtyards that give this city its character and warmth.

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Some of America’s wealthiest people live on compounds and estates. You can’t see their houses unless you’re invited in past the gates. The great homes of Charleston are meant to be seen. The SNOBs have built the most polite way to say “look, but don’t touch.” Their gates allow you to get so close, but also let you know how far away you really are.

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If you visit Charleston in the spring, you’ll be treated to a great variety of flowers in bloom. From simple planter boxes fixed under windowsills to old Wisteria hanging over even older walls, the flowers of Charleston soften the old stone streets and antique homes.

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Charleston is not only one of the most beautiful cities I’ve visited in America, I think it’s one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Every street and alleyway treats you to charm and enchantment, and also haunts you. It was impossible for me to walk through the streets of Charleston without a sense of guilt and shame, and outright sadness. Knowing that one of the most beautiful cities in America, was made possible by one of the ugliest practices in American history, turned my stomach. Charleston was heaven for some and hell for others. It’s estimated that over 40% of slaves brought to North America by the Atlantic Slave Trade, were brought through the Port of Charleston. It was hard for me to see this city without viewing it through that lens. I know we can’t erase the past, but I believe with all my heart that we can change the outcomes of today with kindness, empathy, and hospitality. These are attributes Charlestonians have in abundance.

First I have to apologize for not taking enough pictures of food. When you walk into a restaurant or bar by yourself, you already stick out. I didn’t want to draw anymore attention to myself by photographing every dish put before me. You’ll have to trust me, the food in Charleston is on another level! I was not prepared for Charleston’s culinary offerings. The next time I visit Charleston, I will go back with a plan, but even then, I will miss out. Charleston is filled with such a variety of food that is exquisite whether it’s served in a darkened pub like Griffon or the elegant Tradd’s.

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My real culinary mission in Charleston was BBQ! I literally asked every person I met “If you could only eat BBQ in one place in Charleston…?” Without hesitation “Rodney Scott’s!” There were a few who said Lewis if I liked brisket, but stick with Rodney Scott’s if I was after whole hog. I stared at them with a blank look on my face that clearly said I had no idea what they were talking about. Brisket? Whole hog? I was willing to be educated.

I set out to find Rodney Scott’s which is on the opposite end of King Street. King Street is lined with shops on one side and bars on another. Someone said it was like Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Ummm, no, no it’s not. Not even close. Still, based on the crowds, it was the place to be. My BBQ hike took me out of the touristy part of town and into more of a suburban area. This hike was long so naturally I had to refuel with champagne and oysters at Hotel Bennett, a great place to visit, and only stay overnight if you have a trust fund or some other type of unlimited cash flow.

I could have sat at Hotel Bennett’s champagne bar for hours, but then I would have missed out on the best BBQ in Charleston.

Rodney Scott’s BBQ looks like a refurbished fast food joint complete with a drive-thru. To look at it from the outside, you would never know it was a James Beard award winner in 2018.

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I walked up to order and leaned over the counter to tell the cashier “Hi, I’m from Alaska and I have no idea what I’m doing.” She was delighted, “Alaska?!!” I asked her what she recommended, and she said “Well, it’s all good, but we’re known for the whole hog, so get a plate of hog.” A plate of hog for me then! It’s a combo plate so you get to pick sides. Hush puppies? Yes, please? Mac n Cheese? Yes, please.

Rodney Scott’s was an experience. It was well worth the hike, and the hush puppies were almost as good as the BBQ. Next time, I’ll order the smoked turkey and maybe some catfish. This was BBQ heaven.

Like New Orleans, Sunday Brunch in Charleston is quite the event. I had so many recommendations, but only one stomach. It came down to 82 Queen or Husk. Husk had an hour and half wait, so I went with 82 Queen. Nothing like sipping your pomegranate mimosa beneath a 300 year old Magnolia tree.

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What I wasn’t able to get a picture of was the hospitality. It didn’t matter that I was by myself, in jeans, toting my sturdy, dirty, sweat-soaked backpack, I was treated with the kindest, most authentic hospitality in every place I walked into. They treated me like a guest in their home. They gave me recommendations, directions, and delightful conversation. I can’t wait to go back, bring my best friend Jenni (She’ll love King Street and The Rooftop Bar), and see all the places yet to be seen, and eat at all of the places I didn’t have time or room for.

Thank you, Charleston.