Gage Henry, Grady JOUR5590 Food Critic Extraordinaire
Good food can be the perfect conversation killer. This is one thing I learned during my weekend getaway to Charleston, SC, where I participated in the 32nd annual Cooper Bridge Run, along with around 40,000 other runners and walkers-- soon to be hungry customers of the city's many local eateries.
Joseph's Restaurant, owned and operated by the local Passarini family, is a brunch and lunch cafe set among the spiky palm trees and grandiose southern mansions of downtown Meeting Street. Featured on Food Network's “$40 a Day” with Rachel Ray, this was the hands down suggestion from our weekend hosts.
Averaging around $10 a dish (tip included), they referred to Joseph's brunch as a delicacy worth waking up for, and the sidewalk's overflow of people waiting for an open table proved this was common knowledge.
The staff handled this hubbub with unblinking professionalism, cordiality and just a dash of militance. Waitresses sought out empty coffee cups for refills, asked how the food tasted and were always ready to lend their advice to the fickle hearted. The hostess impatiently barked out party names with pursed lips, a friendly push to ensure a steady flow of satisfied diners-- rushed into their restaurant of choice, but never out.
The abundant brunch menu is a pill for anyone who is indecisive. My eyes darted from the sweet potato pancakes slathered with pecan butter, to the French-toasted French bread dusted with cinnamon and sugar, to the fluffy omelets stuffed with meaty concoctions-- and don't even get me started on the choice of side.
Solution: allow the roasted green and red pepper omelet to replenish my 6.2 miles worth of spent energy, and leave the pancakes and French toast for my four friends to order.
After ten minutes of sipping full-bodied coffee and doodling with crayons on the paper table covering-- an endearing element that relieved the restaurant's formal tension--, the waitress had our food on the table, and thus began the silence of feasting.
I was pleased to see my omelet took up half my plate, while the roasted breakfast potatoes filled the other, also accompanied by a pair of pineapple and cantaloupe slices. The spongy, golden and half-moon yolk bulged with peppers, onions and cheddar cheese, and demanded more than a cursory glance before diving in. The potatoes were a mushy conglomerate of spices and trace vegetables, soaked in a temperate, but zesty sauce with enough punch to heat the tongue without scalding.
I've always found great victory in making the perfect omelet, but Joseph's masterpiece had me eating my own humble pie-- and savoring it. Its contents were a scrumptious mess, and well proportioned with crunchy peppers, juicy sausage and sautéed onions, held together with creamy cheddar cheese. It was the most fun I've had clearing my sinuses.
The restaurant's every interim was alloyed with some kind of entertainment. For those waiting on a table, there was the Charleston's multifarious cityscape to admire, or Battery Park-- where the first shots on Fort Sumter began the Civil War. For customers waiting on food, options range from scribbling on the table, perusing the intricate flower paintings on the wall-- fitting for a blossoming business-- or listening to the live, clarinet and guitar duo deliver jazzy melodies. Rather than waiting, it felt as if I were being treated.
I proceeded through my meal with childhood instincts and an unwillingness to share, huddled around my plate like a prisoner guarding his dinner from a table of inmates. For these brief dining moments, Joseph’s brought out the worst in me, in the best possible way. It wasn't until our plates were cleaned did conversation spark again, this time about our own personal, food-induced hypnoses.
www.josephsofcharleston.com
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