Charleston Journal

This post is the second journal entry from Charleston in April. The first post was my very first blog entry back in May.

April 20th 9 am

We are back on the porch this morning and Gene is commenting on the blue sky. I amsurprised it's so nice out since I thought I heard rain last night. Breakfast looks to be a crab quiche with oranges, grapes and berries on the side. We are parked in our "usual" corner wicker sofa, being served orange juice and coffee as I write. Yesterday morning we reserved the inn's bikes, only to find out one had a broken seat and the two others were already out. So we decided to walk through the residential district, heading down Legare Street. It reminds us again of New Orleans garden district, with walls of ivy and sidewalks broken up over the years by old tree trunks. I snapped my camera like crazy as we admired iron gates, doorways and gardens. It's hard not to imagine living here and on Legare Street I could certainly picture it. 

We landed at the Battery overlooking Charleston Harbour. The park was majestic and the revolutionary war cannons led us to discussions about history and presidents (Gene spoke, I yawned). As we wandered along the water, the cell rang and the inn had bikes for us. We headed back east toward the water on our red old-fashioned big seated bikes to resume our tour of the wharf and waterfront park. I highly recommend avoiding the cobblestone streets on bike, although it was the best laugh I had all day when I watched Gene's face go from serene to pained. We locked up the bikes to enter the market, which is identical to the French Market in NO. The first items I came upon were rattan woven purses from Bali. I'm in Charleston I thought, and I don't want anything from Bali, or China or Thailand. I had my mind set on long-sleeved t-short for Taryn and me, which I found along with bags of benne wafers for the gang at the office, which are local sugar cookies made with benne seeds (similar to sesame seeds).

We cruised by Marion Square, where we had seen kids playing frisbee on our ride into town, and just missed the Saturday farmer's market. We wound around by the College of Charleston, through some streets where college apartments were. Back at the inn, Gene napped while I got closer to finishing Cause of Death by Patricia Cornwell. At promptly 4:30pm, the wine, cheese and a chocolate cake appeared on the dining table, along with other house guests who crawled out of the woodwork. Trudy and Tom are here from Annapolis for their 10 year anniversary and the ladies who joined us in the study were a mother and two daughters from Michigan, here for one of the daughter's 40th birthday. It made me think that a niche market for travel here is special occasion travel. Maybe I would call it "splurge" travel. 

We all exchanged sightseeing and dining adventures with each other and I shared with them our stop at the Rhett Aikens House. It reminded me a bit of the Paul Revere house in the North end of Boston, with its original furniture, yet differed as this house was large and ornate in its day. Rather than being a restored landmark, this home is preserved - which means every inch is covered in peeling wallpaper and paint, old uncleaned upholstery and unpolished floors. The audio walking tour was very interesting and we were led through slave quarters, stable and first two floors of the home. The family resided there for 150 years until 1975 when the latest heir donated it. I figure these home are so expensive to maintain they end up being given away to the city or a historical organization. Definitely a recommended tour.

Our dinner reservations at SNOB (Slightly North of Broad) were at 8:15pm, so we walked up King and over to the pier by the wharf, where we swung on suspended benches while a container ship crawled by. At the restaurant, we were greeted by our server, who looked, spoke and smiled like my college friend Gwen. She brought us each a glass of rose champagne, compliment of the inn (nice touch). I opted to go with house specials across the board, since the ingredients were touted as local and in season. The crab chowder was creamy and fresh. My salad was a poached pear with cranberries, toasted pistachios and blue cheese crumbles over a bed of spring mix. I ordered the soft shell crab over an asparagus, chick pea, green bean and tomato salad topped with cucumber yogurt sauce. Gene insisted I order 2 crabs, which gave him a whole one to take back to the room.

Gene had a pureed red bean soup, caesar salad, and an assorted pate plate. He claimed the caesar rivaled my Uncle Paul's recipe, which I chided him for. We were too stuffed for dessert and too fuzzy after the bottle of shiraz to go to the bar atop the Vendue Inn which we had planned to do. We walked home and were greeted by one of the hostesses, who informed us that two chimney swifts were trapped in the dining room. Someone had been called to help guide them out safely, but they wanted us to walk quietly through the room so as not to cause them to fly around and hurt themselves. An extremely authentic ending to an authentic Charleston day.