Restaurants

Since 2005, Charleston has been home to the Bacardi Mojito Challenge, a showdown between mixologists from some of the city’s best restaurants.  This popular event raises money for the South Carolina Special Olympics and gives local bar talent the chance to wow judges with creative spins on the classic drink.  Despite its respectable list of contestants, though, the competition has been admittedly lopsided.  In every year except 2006, the team from Coast Bar and Grill has taken the top prize, employing fun ingredients like lychee, peaches, and even Pop Rocks to snag the title.  Its champion mojitos retire to Coast’s bar menu once they’ve won, joining martinis, margaritas, and concoctions like “The Seersucker,” which features local sweet tea vodka.

Coast’s success in mixology competitions – its “Yellow Submarine” triumphed at the 2007 Cabana Cashaca contest – is a good indicator of what to expect from the downtown hot spot.  Housed in a brick-walled former warehouse that’s accented with hanging lanterns, nautical paintings, and exposed wooden beams, the restaurant caters to a lively cocktail crowd.  While it’s well-executed seafood dishes aren’t especially groundbreaking, they nicely complement Coast’s atmosphere of upscale-casual conviviality.

As you might expect, Coast’s calling card is its substantial selection of fresh seafood, which is anchored by a raw bar and a mix-and-match list of grilled fish and accompaniments.  Bright, citrusy ceviches and oysters with pedigrees – I was given a choice between the lowcountry haul and Apalachicolas – distinguish the raw bar from its more ordinary competitors (the glowing pufferfish suspended above its counter doesn’t hurt matters, either).  And the many options for enhancing grilled fish are similarly eye-catching; basic tartar sauce sounds downright dull when listed next to the likes of pineapple-chili salsa, spicy adobo rub, and a basil butter sauce.

If the choices at Coast sound overwhelming, fear not: the waitstaff I encountered were admirably prepared to offer facts and suggestions.  Our waitress advised us, for instance, that escolar and tuna were locally caught, and that the plantain-encrusted mahi mahi would be just as tasty with snapper substituted.  Once she’d helped us navigate the menu, we sat back to taste warm, candle-heated crab dip, unremarkable calamari, and Rio Bertollini’s crab and avocado ravioli.  The latter, served with mixed salad greens and warm goat cheese, elicited oohs and ahhs from all ends of our table.

The exclamations only increased when our entrees were delivered.  Seafood paella arrived in a black cast iron pot, complete with a lid that the waitstaff promptly removed.  Though oversalted, the scallops, shrimp, mussels, clams, and rice were all expertly cooked, without a trace of toughness or mushiness.  The grouper I’d selected was pleasantly charred from the grill, and the chorizo had been browned before it was added to the dish, lending it a deeper, more intense flavor.

Salt marred an otherwise tasty mahi mahi preparation too, particularly in its side of mashed potatoes.  But overall, the restaurant’s dinner offerings were solid interpretations of coastal standards.  After indulging in plate after plate of appetizers, our group still accumulated only a handful of carryout boxes.  Dessert, though, was definitely out of the question!

Our lovely cousin Katie with her landlubber's plate

After two trips (I know; I’ve been lucky enough to break the mold!), I can say that Coast is the perfect spot for a big night out with a big group of friends, for those times when sharing laughs – and maybe drinks – takes priority over trying amazing dishes.  Its food won’t be the focus of your night, but if it’s accompanied by a lively table and an award-winning mojito or two, it’s not likely to disappoint, either.

Like most major cities, Charleston is a socially stratified space with both desirable and dismal places to live, eat, and play.  But it’s also divided along some less common lines.  Tourist favorite or local haunt?  Flood zone or high and dry?  And, for society types, elegant or gaudy?  Old money or new?

In lowcountry lore, Broad Street is the boundary that divides those last two categories; it’s a swath of antique shops, law offices, and banks that cuts horizontally across the lower peninsula.  Anything “South of Broad,” i.e. close to the water and the Battery, has long been considered especially exclusive, while addresses to the North, nice as they may be, are not quite up to social snuff.

What, you might be wondering by now, does all this society section fodder have to do with me?  Well, as usual, the connection is food.  More specifically, it has to do with a great restaurant I recently visited, S.N.O.B.

S.N.O.B. is the cheeky acronym for Slightly North of Broad, a restaurant that lies – you guessed it – on East Bay Street just above its intersection with Broad Street.  And its attention-getting name, a clever nod to geography and society, accurately describes the experience of a meal there.  S.N.O.B was a great lunch spot, upscale but not stuffy, and stylish without taking itself too seriously.

The restaurant is built into an old, high-ceilinged warehouse space, so its interior feels airy and open.  Tall windows spill light into the brick dining room, which backs right up to a chrome-filled open kitchen.  Though the architecture is dramatic, it’s the little touches that really make an impression at S.N.O.B. Its bar stools are upholstered in green crocodile fabric, aluminum stars dangle from the ceiling, and mismatched chandeliers hang over sections of striped tables.  An entire wall next to the bar is mirrored, then overlaid with wrought iron scrolling.  Modern and spunky, the playful decor could be straight off a TLC design show.

While I admired the red lacquered salt and pepper mills on our table, our waiter delivered an order of warm corn bread.  Wrapped in a sweetgrass basket – the specialty of Gullah weavers who live on the surrounding sea islands – it was smooth and buttery, a welcome introduction to our meal.  With good, brewed, iced tea, it kept me satisfied while I undertook the very serious task of choosing an entree from the lunch menu.

I’d describe the list of choices at S.N.O.B. as American Eclectic.  While it nods to Charleston’s Southern culinary traditions, it doesn’t attempt many cutesy riffs on them.  Shrimp and Grits was the only typical tourist bait on a menu enhanced with offerings like a crab salad with basil and sweet peppers, seared local swordfish with yellow tomato coulis, and fried chicken livers. I was surprised to see two standout items- Pad Thai and a Smothered Burrito – on the otherwise unified list, but overall the selection seemed balanced and intuitive.

Torn between the crab salad and a broadly Asian plate of Sesame Crusted Tuna, I asked our waiter for help.  Unfazed, he confidently recommended the tuna, and approved Teresa’s choice of the Grilled Salmon Salad. I continued studying the menu while we waited for our food, already excited about future trips.

My plate, delivered promptly, only heightened that excitement.  It was sectioned into four corners, and each held a component of the dish.  Red-flecked kim chee led to a good-sized portion of sesame tuna, which sat next to a salad of thin-sliced cucumbers.  The dish’s only anomaly, in my mind, occupied the fourth corner; it was a balsamic dressed scattering of arugula, a peppery lettuce that seemed an outlier on the Asian plate.  Teresa’s salmon, accompanied by bright yellow peppers, chunks of feta, and generous slices of avocado, looked just as beautiful.

Aside from medium-well tuna – I’d ordered rare – the dish lived up to our waiter’s praise.  The kim chee was authentically spicy, the cucumbers delicate and vinegary.  It didn’t change my mind, though, about the arugula, which I resisted eating for fear of ruining the taste of miso and wasabi on my palate.  I’d have been happier with bok choi or kohlrabi, for continuity if for no other reason.  Instead of finishing it, I sampled a bite of Teresa’s salmon, which was just about perfect.  The pickled peppers and feta added a welcome tang to the fish, and both were balanced by the savory spinach and avocado.  Tomatoes, orange, and a citrus-shallot dressing gave the dish a bright flavor.  Any more embellishment would’ve been distracting, but as it was, the salad was incredibly well done.

After one visit, I can see why S.N.O.B. has become so popular with locals and visitors alike.  It’s menu and execution aren’t perfect, but their high aims still deliver a satisfying payoff.  Maybe I’m naive about Charleston society, but I’d even wager that a few brave souls from South of Broad have ventured through its doors to see how the other half tastes.  In my opinion, it’s pretty darn good.