Whew! My step counter is in shock...we walked the streets of Charleston, visiting the Museums/Houses in what is billed as Charleston Museum Mile. My body and step meter says that their mile and my mile are slightly different. We walked over 8 miles yesterday...then went to the beloved Oyster Roast and BBQ and stood up for 3 hours with our familiar plastic name tags hanging round our necks. Like I said, throwback Thursday.
There are homes that are part of different Historical Society, Foundations, and independently operated homes, it is obvious that each group thinks their homes are the finest and their docent led tours are the best...one group even have the folks from the Williamsburg archeological society here taking down plaster walls to discover rats nests with fabric samples and threads to determine the color or stylings. Good grief...and being news, if I join their Instagram accounts, I can get live feeds of the next rats’ nest discovery. The docent was so excited she was giddy...I think I will wait until I get home. No need to scare TSA or airline stewardess/attendants with squealing video of century old rats discoveries on our way home.
To say that folks from Charleston are proud of their founding families, homes, history is a bit of an Understatement. The roots of these family trees are deep, long and intermixed (as in they marry cousins). Despite the loss of wealth post Civil War, these folks have managed just fine...the number of historical homes with the all too familiar permits tapped to the windows, various craftsmen painstakingly renewing and restoring places and the general lack of abandoned properties says Charleston economy is thriving.
Having traveled with Eddie for so long, I know him well. He depth of knowledge on the Foundering Fathers, colonial times, and Civil War could move him to the head to the trivia games here, or at least give him a job as a docent in one of the homes...except for the not well air conditioned part. Thank goodness we have most of the authors or historical stuff at home....the bookstores are just full of load more books for Eddie to buy and conquer...alas, we are in small rolling suitcases, per Eddie.
On to the Oyster Roast. I thought I has pretty much had seen it all in eating with your fingers. It takes the cooking equipment, tents, tables and buckets of a crawfish or shrimp boil and kicks it up a notch with protective gloves and oyster knives...add booze, country music, no see um gnats...now that is a Low Country Roast. So, here we are on the banks of the Cooper River Marsh lands, in a lighted tent, with my cute top that I did not Preshop for and along with 400 other plastic name tag folks, popping shells, dipping the half steamed oyster in a cocktail sauce, slurping it down and toss the shells into a 5 gallon bucket by your feet. Not wanting to look like a total tourist, I watched and modeled after the people lined up near us. The roasting hopper looks like a fairly large commercial crawfish boiling rig, only you don’t submerge the oysters. About two sacks to the basket, steam then throw on the tables. The steam should be some new spa facial thing...like “organic pearl steam”or something....hair and makeup were lost out here. You grab the oyster with your gloved hand looking for the partial popped opening, insert your knife and twist...be careful, there is water in most of the shells....stab your steamed oyster with the knife, dip in your sauce and eat, wash it down with your drink of choice. Hmmm, I think I will wait for the bbq portion of the offerings. Eddie was at the table for a good hour....as were most of the other native South Carolinian folk. Sure enough, the bbq lined open and most folks moved from the tables to the bbq-queue. Only the die hard remained as the oysters kept coming. The bbq was from local Rodney Scott, the 2018 James Beard SE chef of the year. Yeah, it was probably the best I have ever had. Their fresh pork cracklings were outstanding. All served with collard greens, Mac and cheese, chicken, salad, cornbread, and banana pudding...if that does not say Low Country, I don’t know what does. After doing what lawyers do, talk about court cases and other lawyers, we returned to our hotel for the night, but not without pick up our party favor-an oyster knife with a leather looped belt holder...for each of us. Guess we will be checking bags on way home for sure.
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