oh dear. Summer appears to be continuing in full force here in Pennsylvania. The past few days have been a glorious expression of warm days and brightly popping fall color...but I can't stop thinking of a short trip my best friend and I took a couple of years ago, in the spring, to Charleston, South Carolina. Though it has no bearing on the weather right now, we are planning an entirely different trip to Montreal in less than a month.
While the Charleston trip gave us a taste of spring and flowers and sea air, Montreal is just as likely to give us wind and rain or snow and require several thousand more layers of clothing to keep warm. Both, though, will be focused on eating a drinking our way through our vacation. Obviously, we'll have to take breaks occasionally to shop and visit museums, as we did in Charleston, right before it's back to the food and cafes and walking between them.
However, with this warm spell, I'm not really ready to fully plan a easily-packed vacation wardrobe that involves scarves and boots and legwarmers. I'm still stuck in seersucker and pink and plaid and pearls, much like the sort of wardrobe I think of when I think of our Charleston trip. That particular vacation did spawn quite a few long-standing stories that we still trot out at dinner parties and just for fun. For example, our favorite restaurant staff friendly pub (where one finds fun people, fab food, & cheap drinks) turned out to be the "best place to meet a sugar daddy" for the late, boozy lunch and after work crowd, according to the local alternative newspaper.
Charleston is a city known for its hospitality (along with being the site of the first shots of the American Civil War), marked by the prolific use of the pineapple as the city's symbol. Though I have no evidence, I believe the fruit is the symbol to represent that hospitality, as well as a way for the residents to flaunt their wealth. An early American city known for its many churches and surprising tolerance, Charleston was a merchant city and gateway for the English colonies and their trade to the Caribbean.
For the wealthy merchants and plantation owners in seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth century Charleston, sharing a tropical pineapple with one's guests is a remarkably polite way of advertising one's wealth. As only the very wealthy could have a ready supply of the fruit for any guests, it was the perfect way to show off and be nice at the very same time. Charleston is also the home of the Rutledge family, source of my favorite Molasses Ginger Cookies.
Charleston is also the home of some very good restaurants. We went to a cocktails and dessert restaurant, a cheap diner/deli, and a number of not-quite-fine but fine dining spots that just made our day. However, the one thing I actually brought home with me was a compulsion to master a fresh cucumber pickle simply set on the table at Jestine's Kitchen. Like every other place we went to, Jestine's was amazing. However, when the owner waits on tables and cleans up in a stained shirt, and is featured on Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations, you know it's the sort of place you want to be. I had awesome fried okra, shockingly average collard greens, the best fried oysters I've ever eaten, and those damn pickles.
I came home thinking about them, scheming and planning how to work past their simplicity to put them on my own table as often as the weather made them feel appropriate. Not really a pickle, these cucumbers are the sort of thing that are made fresh and kept only a day or two at most. Start them before you start any other cooking for a standard half hour or hour meal and you'll have the perfect second veggie or palate cleanser. Also, try them out the next day on grilled hot dogs with mustard and minced onions.
Not-Quite-Pickled-Cucumbers (as served at Jestine's Kitchen in Charleston, SC)
1 or more cucumbers
1/4 large onion
1/3 cup white sugar
1 tablespoon kosher salt
fresh cracked black pepper
1/3 to 1/2 cup white vinegar
Wash the cucumbers, then using a mandolin or very sharp knife cut them into thin rounds. They should be less than a quarter inch thick, but not transparent. Spread evenly in the bottom of a glass pie pan, then cover them with the salt, sugar, and pepper. Then slice the onion into long, very (extraordinarily) thin strips. They should be as thin as possible. Sprinkle over the rounds, then pour enough white vinegar to cover everything. Set to the side. After about 10-20 minutes (however much time you have), gently stir with a fork to distribute all ingredients. Add more of anything necessary to taste.
"Be well. Do good work. Keep in touch." - Garrison Keillor
While the Charleston trip gave us a taste of spring and flowers and sea air, Montreal is just as likely to give us wind and rain or snow and require several thousand more layers of clothing to keep warm. Both, though, will be focused on eating a drinking our way through our vacation. Obviously, we'll have to take breaks occasionally to shop and visit museums, as we did in Charleston, right before it's back to the food and cafes and walking between them.
Charleston is a city known for its hospitality (along with being the site of the first shots of the American Civil War), marked by the prolific use of the pineapple as the city's symbol. Though I have no evidence, I believe the fruit is the symbol to represent that hospitality, as well as a way for the residents to flaunt their wealth. An early American city known for its many churches and surprising tolerance, Charleston was a merchant city and gateway for the English colonies and their trade to the Caribbean.
Charleston is also the home of some very good restaurants. We went to a cocktails and dessert restaurant, a cheap diner/deli, and a number of not-quite-fine but fine dining spots that just made our day. However, the one thing I actually brought home with me was a compulsion to master a fresh cucumber pickle simply set on the table at Jestine's Kitchen. Like every other place we went to, Jestine's was amazing. However, when the owner waits on tables and cleans up in a stained shirt, and is featured on Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations, you know it's the sort of place you want to be. I had awesome fried okra, shockingly average collard greens, the best fried oysters I've ever eaten, and those damn pickles.
I came home thinking about them, scheming and planning how to work past their simplicity to put them on my own table as often as the weather made them feel appropriate. Not really a pickle, these cucumbers are the sort of thing that are made fresh and kept only a day or two at most. Start them before you start any other cooking for a standard half hour or hour meal and you'll have the perfect second veggie or palate cleanser. Also, try them out the next day on grilled hot dogs with mustard and minced onions.
Not-Quite-Pickled-Cucumbers (as served at Jestine's Kitchen in Charleston, SC)
1 or more cucumbers
1/4 large onion
1/3 cup white sugar
1 tablespoon kosher salt
fresh cracked black pepper
1/3 to 1/2 cup white vinegar
Wash the cucumbers, then using a mandolin or very sharp knife cut them into thin rounds. They should be less than a quarter inch thick, but not transparent. Spread evenly in the bottom of a glass pie pan, then cover them with the salt, sugar, and pepper. Then slice the onion into long, very (extraordinarily) thin strips. They should be as thin as possible. Sprinkle over the rounds, then pour enough white vinegar to cover everything. Set to the side. After about 10-20 minutes (however much time you have), gently stir with a fork to distribute all ingredients. Add more of anything necessary to taste.
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