Death by Nachos

Chicora Alley has been a downtown Greenville, SC destination for years, so when they opened a place in the nascent foodie haven of Travelers Rest, I had to give them a try. They occupy a building that was once the city firehouse, ergo the name “Firehouse" on the store front.

It is nice to walk into a place and see the wait staff smiling when they don’t have to. A large U-shaped bar commands the main room. We were ushered into the long narrow side room which once housed the fire trucks.

I opted for the barbecue nachos (12) and my partner went with the fish and chips special (14) I also ordered a Highland Brewing Company Oatmeal Porter from nearby Asheville (4).

After about an average wait, the server arrived with a mountain of nachos so large that I almost looked for the busts of dead presidents carved into the side. When she saw the look on my face she said, “With nachos we don’t play.”

"With nachos we don't play."

They had thoughtfully provided two plates so I could share. There was no barbecue on the chips, meat was extra.  Instead they were covered in a nice fresh pico along with black beans and corn, meximelt cheese and barbecue sauce, which added a slightly odd, but not totally off-putting twist. Another waiter stopped by and joked that if I finished the plate, I would get a free T-shirt.

My partner raved over the fish and chips (she’s still talking about them a week later) and offered me a sample. The cod was tender and flaky, and the beer batter was well balanced.

The Fish 'n Chips special

Imaginary or not, a T-shirt was not in the offing due to a bit of bad planning on my part; I had already consumed over half a tray of the chips they had served as an appetizer, so after a heroic effort I had to reluctantly push the plate away. They asked if I wanted a carry out box, but I demurred. Nobody likes soggy nachos. Next time I’m going for the Jerk Shrimp.

Rating: 🐷🐷🐷🐷

Soapstone Church

 Meat and three with dessert Here's what twelve bucks get you at 

Soapstone Church. Drink included.  

The first time I entered Soapstone Church  I was slightly taken aback. There was Polka music echoing from the dining hall. Polka Music is rare enough here in the land of NASCAR and Kenny Chesnee, but it is especially surprising to be heard on an African American church.  But Soapstone church is just that kind of place. Nestled in the foothills of the Appalachians, with a million dollar view of the blue ridge escarpment, Soapstone is the heart of the Liberia Community, which, like the country with the same name, was founded by freed slaves after the Civil War.

Million Dollar View The grounds of Soapstone church offer a 

breathtaking view of the Blue Ridge escarpment. The boulder in 

the foreground is the soapstone that is the church's namesake. The 

sign at the right enjoins people from chipping off pieces of 

the rock

The church is named for a huge soapstone boulder on the grounds. Soapstone is a soft metamorphic  rock that the indigenous people once use to make bowls and utensils.
The grounds boast the first local African American school, which is still standing, and an historic grave yard, that is visited by thousands each year, but even more popular are the fish fries that the church offers on the third Saturday of each month, January through October. on these Saturdays the place is packed with customers, mostly white, affluent retirees from the nearby gated communities, who come to enjoy a big plate of what used to be called soul food back in the day. For twelve bucks, customers can get a plate with fried flounder, barbecue. or fried chicken, three vegetables, a drink and dessert. Everything is seasoned to perfection, from the collard greens to the squash casserole, to the braised potatoes, that are so popular they always run out. The fish fry is ably supervised by Mable Clark, an elvish woman with a gigantic personality who does most of the cooking and makes a point of visiting every table to greet the diners with smiles and backrubs. Mable's claim to fame is the fried flounder which is breaded with her own secret recipe. She tells of a chef from an upscale eatery in nearby Greenville, SC, who ate there  three times, trying to pry the recipe from her brain. Finally she relented and said if he would make a donation to the church she would share her secret. He didn't donate, and has not been back.

Long Day  Mable Clark (center) puts in sixteen hour days 

managing the monthly fish fries but still finds time to visit

with her patrons.

 Years ago, Mable promised her father who was the pastor at the time that she would do what she could to keep the church open after his passing. The fish fry was her way of doing that, but with the membership of the church having dwindled to less than a dozen, it gets harder each year. Recent articles in local papers and consumer magazines have helped to keep her busy for the time being, but who knows what the future holds? At least for the present we still have a circle on our calendar around the third Saturday of the month.
🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷

The Hungry Drover

John Wilson and Sheila Springfield have a vision of a place where neighbors meet to share gossip and good food. They wanted their restaurant to be a kind of community center in the tradition of the town where they operate, Travelers Rest. Their café, at the intersection of Tigerville and Locust Hill roads features a long table in the center of the room designed to bring neighbors and strangers together.

I was there for breakfast a few days after they opened in August, 2012. John, an affable and avuncular sort, welcomed me at the door and offered a sample of their breakfast fare: Country ham, grits, and a huge biscuit slathered with country gravy.  The ham was excellent and not overly salty and the biscuit and gravy were grandma-good, but the grits took best of show; soft and creamy, almost melting in the mouth. Sheila came around in her customary black apron and permanent smile, and confessed that, though she is the head chef, John is in charge of grits.

Sheila is a fan of Southern Appalachian cooking and her menu consists of recipes she learned from her grandmother, and old favorites as well as those she has researched from old and new southern cookbooks.  The cafe offers a seasonal menu of country fair made with locally sourced ingredients.

Visitors are invited to browse the shelves of art and crafts from local artists, and may even pick up a gallon of local raw milk, honey or a bag of local tomatoes to take home. The hungry drover is a welcome addition to upstate fare.

The Hungry Drover is open Monday-Friday, 10AM-6PM and 8AM-2PM on Saturday.

Backcountry Barbecue

My friend Marc Hoffman has been nagging me to check out this restaurant for a couple of years. Over the recent holiday weekend, I finally got a chance. Backcountry Barbecue is located just off I-85 at the Linwood exit near Lexington. Which any Lexingtonian will tell you is the barbecue capital of the world. It is also the home of the world famous Lexington Barbecue Festival held in October, which draws thousands of people to the area.

Lexington is where I cut my teeth on barbecue, so to speak, when I was living in nearby Salisbury and through my girlfriend at the time, I was introduced to “The Monk”, which was the local name of the  world famous Lexington Barbecue restaurant, where I experienced my first “lean brown course chopped tray.” For aficionados, memory of their first real barbecue often ranks up there with memory of another first (if you know what I mean.)

One of the features of Lexington barbecue is that you can get the regular “chopped” meat or “course chopped.” Mentioning the word “pulled” is likely to have the same effect as the guy who used to say “Would you please pass the jelly?” on the telly.

Back Country Barbecue is in a non-descript building by the side of State 43. Like most good BBQ joints around here, interior decoration seems to have been an afterthought, but, as I always say, you don’t eat atmosphere, you only pay for it.

Like the rubes we were, we sat out front on the Formica®, while the locals opted for the cozy dining room with its red (painted) brick wall and faux mantel. There was also a counter, but it was crowded with papers, menus, spoon and fork dispensers and the like.

I ordered the course chopped sandwich and received a bun full of thumb-sized chunks which, though slightly dry, had excellent smoke and the bark(which is the reason you order course chopped) was immensely acceptable.

The hazard of ordering course chopped pork on a bun versus the tray mentioned earlier, is that the watery Piedmont sauce soaks through the bottom of the bun much faster than with the regular chop, giving it the consistency of mucilage. This is a feature which I had forgotten in the thirty years since I had eaten my last course chopped Q.  As I mentioned before, turning the bun over mitigates the issue to some degree, but alas, by the time I remembered this, it was too late.

An indication of the quality of the meat is perhaps reflected in the fact that I can usually count on eating one and a half sandwiches at these places because my wife seems never to be able to finish hers, but here I was out of luck. I looked up from my plate to see my wife wiping the last morsel from the corner of her mouth.

It’s tough in the BBQ business in these parts because the competition is fierce and the expectations are high. Backcountry Barbecue is in for the long haul.

Diner rating: