Exploring Culinary Charleston: Doing the Charleston Chew

I’ve checked into Restoration on King. Built as condos before the recession, it is now a boutique hotel with a privileged location a half block off King Street, the city’s main pedestrian artery. Room 306 is a corner suite suspended over the street, with floor to ceiling windows and contemporary interiors; it’s like staying at an artist friend’s hip loft. The service exemplifies Southern hospitality: continental breakfast is brought in a picnic basket, wine and cheese is served nightly at 5 p.m., followed by milk and cookies at 8.

Before I head out, I stop by Caviar & Bananas, Charleston’s version of Manhattan’s Zabar’s. I grab a tub of pimento cheese and a to-go container of zucchini, cranberry, pecan and feta salad and I’m off to Wadmalaw Island. Cross the bridge (or was it two?) and a lonesome ribbon of asphalt unfurls over the famously picturesque marsh land, Spanish-draped live oaks providing a canopy of shade. This is farmland; hand-lettered signs for tomatoes, corn and peaches punctuate the road’s shoulder.

First stop: the Charleston Tea Plantation, America’s only commercial tea farm. Even if I don’t, tea loves heat and humidity; 150 years ago planters brought bushes from China to the island where they’ve thrived. The tour includes a trolley ride through the fields, a glimpse of the processing and a tasting. I’ve arrived at the moment of "first flush," when tea goes from field to cup in just 20 hours; the result is a rich, aromatic brew. I stock up on the popular Charleston Breakfast and Governor's Gray.

Next, I’m headed for the hard stuff. Husband and wife Jim and Ann Irvin have a funky compound (once used as carriage storage) that comprises their two operations: Firefly Vodka Distillery and Irvin House Vineyards. South Carolina law prohibits signage and I didn’t have cell service, so be sure to ask for directions as you depart the tea plantation.

Created in 2007, sweet tea vodka is the flagship of the state’s first distillery and a nationally popular Southern spirit, but there are seven others, including peach tea. Brags Jim, you can smell the fuzz on the peach. Also in the works, java rhum made with Colombian coffee. It, too, had a powerful nose, though I was partial to the infusion made with Buffalo Trace bourbon.

At Charleston’s only winery, the wines tend toward the sweet (muscadine grapes are the varietal), though I think Mullet Hall red is irresistibly named.

Dinner at the Fat Hen on neighboring John Island is, quite simply, life-affirming. In an unpretentious setting, Chef Fred Neuville is serious about farm-to-table; he has a farmer’s market in his parking lot during Sunay brunch. Vegetarians will be very, very happy: fried green tomatoes maintain their texture with a light panko crust and a smear of goat cheese, a dab of pepper relish and a puddle of tomato jam; the roasted corn and oven dried tomato salad has the one-two surprise of boiled peanuts and green goddess dressing. Oysters—twice the size of my thumb, yet firm, not flabby—are sautéed with country ham and wild mushrooms and served over grilled bread.

There’s so much more: an interesting charcuterie plate, perfectly crispy Pommes frites, butter bean cake with avocado chipotle cream. The special of the day was truly inspired: meaty wreckfish paired with mesclun, fresh corn, wax beans, heirloom tomatoes and lemon cucumbers, goosed with a citrus vinaigrette—summer’s bounty on a plate.

Do not miss the pluff mudd pie (ask your server to explain the name), a fluffy chocolate mousse with an Oreo crust and Chantilly cream. Hands-down, this was my favorite meal of the trip.

Back in Charleston the following day, I had another praiseworthy meal at Amen Street, open just since November 2009. Chef Todd Garrigan has reinvented fried calamari by tossing in corn, tomatoes and green onions, along with bacon for smokiness. His hushpuppies are served with local honey; his mussels with garlic, tomatoes, white wine and herbs have a pleasant sweetness.

Even some locals don’t know about funky Dixie Supply Bakery & Café located next to a convenience store, but you should. I still can’t decide if I like the gooey tomato pie or luscious carrot cake pancakes better.

At FISH the desserts were most memorable, perhaps because of the menu’s engaging copywriting: It’s just ready if the juice doesn’t drip off of your elbow. That’s what my mom always told me about a strawberry, which captures the spirit of the strawberry mojito parfait with yuzu lime syrup sitting between two star anise wafers: a grown-up ice cream sandwich. Cheesecake lollipops were rolled in chocolate gingersnaps served with strawberry lemon curd.

Among savories, the standout was Chef Nico Romo’s bouillabaisse with trout, scallops, shrimp, clams, potatoes, bok choy, mushrooms, carrots and coconut lemongrass broth—a refreshing Asian twist on a classic. The bacon pork loin medallions—the pig was fed with special compost the restaurants prepares—were flavorful but a bit heavy for a summer supper.

At Oak Steakhouse look beyond the chopped salad and filet mignon to the menu’s real stars: killer sides including Brussels sprouts with applewood smoked bacon and lobster mac and cheese. If you have room, there’s a six-layer chocolate cake served with a shot glass of whole milk, and my favorite, a super whipped cheesecake.

O-Ku is an upscale sushi restaurant which has been likened to Nobe. It may be culinary sacrilege to admit, but I am not a big sushi or sake devotee. Chef Sean Park and his gracious staff are working hard to create demand for sushi beyond bargain rolls. I enjoyed sipping refined, chilled sake —- some milky, some clear —- with mellifluous names like Snow Maiden and Bride of the Fox while noshing on mandoo, delicious dumplings stuffed with kimchee. The bar also makes an award-winning passionfruit mojito, sour and refreshing and a steamy Southern night. The presentation is impeccable, the attention to detail graceful, from escolar to otoros, big eye and yellow carpaccio. Ask your server for wasabi stems to enliven everything. If you’ve got a sweet tooth, steer toward the pineapple crème brulee.