Road Trip, Or, How To Consume The South
What is it about a road trip that makes me think it is okay to eat the worst possible food imaginable? Like because I'm going to be behind the wheel for the next six hours, that completely justifies eating an 1,800 calorie Cinnamon Bun from one of the many identical rest stops on the turnpike.
Well I didn't actually have a cinnamon bun this time around, though as I write right now the option is tantalizing, but I did eat a lot of other things, most of which would make Michelle Obama want to throw her dinner plate at my head.
The goal: get to Charleston in three days, meet my mother, swap cars with her (we've been borrowing each other's for the past year - long story) and drive back to New York in two days. That's about 26 hours of driving in five days. It sounds painful, but my fiance and I were mentally prepared for endless hours in the car; it would be a good test of our commitment to each other.
The trip began by heading south on the Turnpike just after five on a Friday, and while you'd expect that to be a disaster, it was actually pretty easy. Traffic was moving well and, except for one asshole who got his van stuck on a barricade because he started out on the southbound ramp and meant to be on the northbound ramp, there weren't too many dick Jersey drivers. At least, not more than usual.
Our goal was to get to Alexandria that night; knowing the next day's drive to Raleigh was going to be a lengthy one we wanted to make sure we got through DC so there was nothing but open road ahead of us. This was the justification for our first meal: a Taco Bell thirty miles north of Baltimore. I had the 2 chalupa combo (it comes with an extra soft taco) and my fiance, bless her heart, had two crunchy tacos. How she subsides on that is beyond me. There's something about the guilty pleasure that is Taco Bell. Once you get over the fact that you're eating grade D meat, which I originally thought was reserved for dog food, you have to just kick back and relish in the fact that what you are eating can easily kill you if you do it often enough. But sometimes you've just got to think outside the bun. One meal down. $9 spent.
The next morning we pulled into Fredericksburg around 10 am. Fredericksburg, Virginia is a beautiful town with lots of antique shops and beautiful old colonial era buildings. The main street, Caroline Street, is pretty spot on to Joe Dirt's mental image of Silvertown. For breakfast, we each had a simple scrambled egg and biscuit sandwich from Foode, a quaint coffee-shop / bakery on Caroline. There's something about a good southern biscuit. It's got the same untouchable status as New York pizza or eating a massive artichoke in California (you know they keep all the good produce for themselves out there right?). Or maybe a better example would be sourdough bread from San Francisco; you just can't get that on the east coast. The outsides of the biscuits had that toasted crustiness, like the one you want on a good pie, and the inside had that warm butter-milky goodness that I'm at a loss of words to describe. Usually adamant that it isn't really breakfast without bacon, having just scrambled eggs on a biscuit seemed like it might leave me unsatisfied, but I left completely content and ready to move on. Two meals down, total spent: $17.
The next stop was Raleigh, North Carolina, where we stayed with a former co-worker of my fiance's. After the four hour drive that was Virginia and the rural stretch of U.S. 1 in northern North Carolina, we quickly downed a beer to calm our nerves and were whisked away to the pride of Raleigh: The Angus Barn. The Angus Barn is a true southern chop house. If I had to describe its vibe I would have to go with proud: it is proud of its size, it has multiple rooms and floors with seemingly oceans of tables, not to mention a couple 'private rooms' that I figure any proud father has to book for his son's high school graduation, proud of its wine cellar, a massive complex containing a library of wines that in my lifetime I doubt I'll come within shouting distance of experiencing, proud of its clientele, with thousands of celebrity photos on the wall and an endless strand of anecdotes about visits by recent super bowl champion Eli Manning, wealthy businesspeople who fly in for dinner and fly out for whatever city they actually need to go to, the UNC basketball team, the Duke basketball team, politicians and pro-atheletes of all sizes, shapes and colors, and most importantly, proud of the fact that it ain't some dainty New York restaurant where they serve you a friggin' shrimp on a plate with a single green bean and call it a meal (I was told this is how us New Yorkers eat - I chose not to correct it on the grounds that it wasn't worth my time). The food here is unapologetically heart attack inducing. The bread is grilled in butter, the steaks are huge (I wasn't exactly ridiculed for ordering the 7 oz bacon wrapped fillet instead of the 10 oz but I definitely got the 'could have guessed' look) and the sides are clearly intended to challenge even the best conditioned arteries (creamed spinach, stuffed potatoes, fresh cut homemade onion rings to name a few). After god only knows how many rounds of drinks and bottles of wine and nearly causing a scene fighting over who would pick up the check, our hosts graciously bought us a meal I will never, ever, forget. Three down, still at $17.
We had to get out early the next morning. Charleston was still a good four hours away, and we wanted to get there to check out the many amazing things we've heard about the city. We rolled out of bed at seven am, surprisingly not hung over from the previous night's activities (maybe there's something to be said for eating a 4,000 calorie dinner). Not about to let visitors get away without experiencing the best of Raleigh, our host drove to get us food from one of Raleigh's most renowned hangover cure spots: Bo-jangles. Bo-jangles ("It's Bo' Time") is the southern fast food establishment known for its fried chicken and biscuits, and for breakfast that is exactly what I was served, with a sweet tea on the side. I could have gone without eating until the next morning, but here I was mere hours after praying to god for forgiveness from the wreckage I had done to my body the prior evening, mowing down a fast food fillet of fried chicken and a biscuit. I'll admit, it did cure whatever ailed me. The biscuit wasn't on the level with the one I had in Fredericksburg, but it was damned good. My fiance was offered the very berry biscuit, the same biscuit covered in a layer of faux-blueberry icing. I had some of that too; it was a as good as it sounds. Four meals in, an extreme level of guilt, still at $17.
That night we made our way to Husk Restaurant in downtown Charleston, South Carolina. Husk was recently named Bon Appetit Magazine's best new restaurant for 2011. It is owned by James Beard award winning chef Sean Brock (Husk is Mr. Brock's second highly notable restaurant in Charleston, the other being McCrady's). The idea with both of his restaurants is to bring southern cuisine back to its roots; all of the ingredients used in the two venues are from the south, though our server did admit that sourcing southern made olive oil was a bit of an adventure. Both the drinks and the food at Husk lived up to their lofty expectations. We started in the restaurant's bar, which is a stand alone town house just to the right of the Colonial looking home that is the main restaurant. The bar is a two story affair. Downstairs it is a bar with a back rail and stools, and upstairs is a loft-like area with tables and servers. The vibe is great, if I lived in Charleston I'd go there every Saturday night and just chat up everyone in the place. I ordered a "Fire In the Orchard", which is billed as "a seasonal riff on the Old fashioned". It was very old fashioned-like, but with smoked apple juice and pickled jalepino, two additions that knocked it out of the park. I'm not usually a cocktail guy; a lot of the time I think some of the obsession with over-done artisanal cocktails is a bit silly, but this one was awesome to the point that I might have it served at my wedding. It had just the right amount of smokiness, just the right amount of sweetness, and the jalepino kept it exciting. As for the meal itself, everything was perfectly done. It was traditional southern at its best. We each had a first and a main course, and we each tried each other's, and all were perfect. My first was a cheddar pimento and shaved country ham (almost like a queso dip) served with house made benne crackers. Maybe not the most refined food on the planet, but it confirmed that I'll do whatever it takes to get invited to this guy's super bowl party next year. My main was country fried lamb with broccoli and an assortment of root vegetables. I'd compare the country fried lamb to the best breaded veal parm (obviously sans tomato sauce and cheese) that I've ever had. My mother was convinced that her duck was possibly the single greatest thing she's ever eaten. Once again we lost the fight over the check (everyone wants to buy a young engaged couple a meal I'm finding). Still at $17.
Breakfast the next morning came with the hotel room, and the room itself was very reasonable. If you happen to stay in Charleston, I highly recommend staying at the Vendue Inn. The hotel staff optimizes southern hospitality, the rooms are charming and unique, and the breakfast included with the room is surprisingly well done. I had a simple meal of eggs, bacon and cheddar grits, when in Rome, and couldn't have left happier. Since it was included with the room, I'm going to have to say that this was yet another free meal. Six meals, $17, and I deserve a kick in the groin for eating this well.
The nine hour drive from Charleston to Washington DC is no laughing matter. It isn't for the faint of heart. You need to be totally mentally prepared, and fully stocked with food, drinks, and enough music to get you through a few hours of pretty lightweight radio options. If you ever have to drive north to get out of Charleston, I'd highly recommend eschewing the traditional highway route recommended by most mapping algorithms and go with state road 41 that brings you through Francis Marion National Forest. It is a stunning and isolated drive and not really much of a detour (the road is so desolate and straight that you can go 70 the entire time but feel like your floating along nice and slowly). Just make sure you've got a half a tank of gas because it is a ways to the next gas station and cell phone service is unheard of in the forest. You've been warned.
We drove. And we drove. And we drove. The Carolinas don't look all that big on the map, but they're big. They take a long, long time to get through. We wanted to try to make it to Virginia before stopping, but it wasn't in the cards, so we stopped in the small town of Kenly, North Carolina only because the name of the street was Truck Stop Road. If you happen to be in the neighborhood, I highly recommend checking out the truck stop on truck stop road, you won't be disappointed. I'm not going to get into the details, but suffice it to say that it has an entire section devoted to selling Pirate of the Carribean swag. It also has a Wendy's, and after initially laughing at the idea, group think got the best of us. We each got a cheeseburger and a can of coke. Seven meals, $23.
We kept driving. Compared to the long, flat, desolate stretches of the Carolinas, Virginia is not only scenic, but a short, pleasurable drive. We zipped through it without much of anything to make note of, and drove straight to our last culinary adventure, Ben's Chili Bowl. A lot has been written or documented about Ben's Chili Bowl in the past (in fact, they were taping an interview with a guy who might have even been Ben while we were there), and for all the great things I've heard, somehow I managed four years at college in DC without ever eating there. That is really odd when you consider the fact that chili dogs might be my favorite food (how's that for culinary snobbery?). We each had a chili dog and we split an order of the chili cheese fries. The guys in line before us had two chili dogs and an order of chili cheese fries EACH - I'm still shocked they made it out of there alive. The chili dogs were very, very good, but more than just that it is the ambience of the instituion that makes you feel like you're part of something special. Ben's Chili Bowl is its own unique experience. There aren't thirty more of them popping up all over the beltway, trying to take over the east coast, the way another famous DC institution has, ruining the unique experience, and frankly, the food, in favor of becoming a household name (shame on you, Five Guys). Ben's Chili Bowl is original, fun, and everyone gets treated the same, unless your name is Bill Cosby or Barack, then you get to eat for free. Eight meals, $38.
The next day we awoke and I drove directly back to New York, making it solely on snacks we had packed for the trip. My fiance had to stay in the capital for work. I made it back to New York in one piece. Somehow, someway, my fiance and I ate our way to Charleston and back, both good and bad, for $19 per person. We were lucky enough to dine at one of the world's most renowned new restaurants, we were able to pig out at a few regional landmarks, and we were able to indulge ourselves in some guilty pleasures. But hey, all rules get thrown away when you're on a road trip.