Hunt'n for the Good Stuff

The Gospel Travelers serenade customers on the big front porch of Hunt'n' Camp

The night I visited Hunt ‘n' Camp, on U.S Highway 25 North of Travelers Rest, SC, a bluegrass gospel band was belting out old favorites on the restaurant’s big wrap-around porch. The porch was lined with large rocking chairs for the adults and small ones for the kids and they were all full of people listening to the music while waiting for their names to be called.
Inside, the décor is enough to scare the beJesus out of you average PETA sympathizer as the walls are lined with menagerie representing a good portion of the fauna of the upstate of South Carolina, including--and this is by no means an exhaustive list-- a boar’s head, a bobcat, and the heads of four deer. The one above my table, --a nice eight pointer-- had an arrow, presumably the one that brought it down-- resting in its antlers. But I wasn’t there to admire animal carcasses, I was there to eat them.
They have a pretty good menu, but for around nine bucks, you can get that wonderful invention that has kept heart surgeons in BMW’s for many years, the all-you –can- eat bar. The bar features barbecue, and barbecued chicken, rice and hash as well as vegetables, including green and barbecue beans, slaw, potato salad with new potatoes, and that mainstay of menus in South Carolina barbecue joints, sweet potato crunch.
I dove in. It wasn’t pretty. From the first bite I fell into in a self imposed feeding frenzy spurred on by brain chemicals triggered by the deadly combination of sugar fat and salt that, according to Dr. David Kessler’s new book The End of Over-Eating has led to the obesity epidemic in America.
The barbecue was tender and succulent with good smoke and a slightly sweet finish. They had a variety of home made sauces to choose from. The hot sauce, a light tomato mixture, had just the right amount of sting. By the time I got to the sweet potato crunch, the thought of remaining ambulatory had shrunk to the deeper recesses of my pork-poisoned brain.
Hash, made from what Anthony Bourdain might call the “nasty bits” -ground up chunks of left-over of barbecue- is a rarity in this part of SC; it’s more common below the fall line. Several people in line with me were heard to say; “I’m just not a hash person.” They missed out on a treat.
Since barbecue this good should easily place highly in just about any cook off, I looked around to see if I could spot a trophy, but none were visible. Either the owner doesn’t compete, which, if true, is a loss to the barbecue community, or he stores his trophies elsewhere.
The efficient and attentive wait staff kept our glasses filled the whole time. I left vowing to return and hoping my arteries would some day find it in their heart to forgive me.
Diner rating: 5